* * *
After confronting Mr Burrows, Timmins and Drake failed to find a ride home and were forced to walk; Drake to the bothy, Timmins to his small house on the grounds of Carrack House. A full moon lit their journey as the sound of their boots marked the speed of their progress. Despite their prior alliance, an awkward silence quickly settled between them. Timmins was not a talkative man and Drake was at a loss how to converse with the head gardener. In truth, Drake was a little shaken. Not by the pompous man, Burrows, but the realisation he was prepared to beat the man if he did not leave Evie alone. He had never felt such hatred or a desire to protect another. Evie had brought that out in him. What did that mean? He could hardly discuss it with Timmins.
They had walked a mile when Timmins finally broke the silence. ‘You did well tonight, Vennor,’ he said in a measured tone. Drake looked up, surprised at his praise. ‘You have shown responsibility by bringing a delicate matter to my attention. They are qualities that few labourers have.’
The compliment moved Drake more than he cared to admit and whether it was a change in him, or a change in Timmins, conversation began to flow more easily as their difference in rank was temporarily set aside. Granted, their topic of conversation remained firmly on horticulture, but it was a passion they both shared in equal measures and it allowed Drake respite from examining his own feelings for a girl he could never have.
They eventually left the road to follow a cross-country footpath, which led them through streams, over stiles and acrossfields left to lie fallow. The path reduced their journey by many miles, but the light from the moon, smothered by thickening cloud, no longer lit their way and put their surefootedness at risk. On several occasions a hand of support was needed, offered and gratefully accepted by each of them, in order to avoid serious injury. Each offer of support unconsciously helped lay the foundations for a new relationship between them. Eventually Carrack House came into view. They paused to look at its silhouette filled with golden-lit Georgian windows.
‘It’s time,’ said the head gardener as he chewed on a blade of grass. ‘Up till now I have given you jobs that any unskilled labourer can do. All apprenticeships start at the bottom and those that can stomach it and are willing to study hard can work their way to the top. You have worked hard and done well. It is time your learning really began. We will start tomorrow and I will teach you all I know.’
* * *
Sir Robert removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the headache that would surely come. He stole a glance at his wife across the table. She had barely touched her breakfast. Grief continued to affect her and it was not only her appetite outside the bedroom that remained poor. He could not remember the last time she had invited him into her bed or allowed his comforting touch to stray. She needed a diversion from the loss of her son, although this was not what he had in mind. Even so, he could not hide the latest calamity to befall them, grief or no grief.
‘Mr Burrows has resigned from his post,’ he said, pushing his plate of haddock away. ‘Our daughter is without a tutor.’
‘With no explanation?’ asked his wife. At least the news had shocked her out of her usual malignant trance.
‘Oh, he has explained. Quite thoroughly, in fact, but I have no wish to repeat it.’
Lady Pendragon plucked the letter from his hand. ‘Is this his letter?’ She did not wait for her husband’s answer. Her eyes traced the tutor’s neat handwriting with lightning speed. ‘Can this be true?’ She looked up, puzzled. ‘I find this hard to believe.’ She looked down again, her eyes darting to the words used to describe her daughter. ‘Insolent, lazy, rude, contrary. He says she lacks motivation and a desire to learn. But Evelyn is so quiet. No, this cannot be true.’
‘I thought so too, so I went to the schoolroom and searched her desk. Her work is of a very poor standard. Mr Burrows’ corrections are all over her work and clearly highlights the fact it is unsatisfactory.’ One essay, about Nicholas, was particularly unpleasant to read, but he would not distress his wife with that particular discovery. Sir Robert rang for the butler, who quickly appeared. ‘Fetch my daughter,’ ordered Sir Robert. ‘I want to speak with her.’
The butler gave a curt bow of his head and immediately left the room.
‘A few months ago she told us he had punished her for not completing her work. She was quite open with the fact that she found the work he gave her too much and too challenging.’ He retrieved the evidence to his daughter’s poor behaviour and studied it for a moment. ‘I should have listened,’ he said to himself. ‘Perhaps if I had shown some understanding of Mr Burrows’ difficulties and intervened, he would not have left.’
‘But she appeared eager to improve,’ argued his wife.
‘To us, perhaps, but it seems she showed a more petulant side to Mr Burrows.’
‘Nicholas always spoke highly of him, although Miss Brown did not like him.’
‘Miss Brown did not want to lose her position.’
‘She did think rather highly of herself towards the end. How dare she be so carefree with her opinions and tell us how to bring up our daughter.’
Sir Robert discarded the last remark. He had noticed his wife’s growing jealousy where the governess had been concerned. It proved useful when he wanted to replace her, but it served no purpose here. He had another problem to deal with now.
‘Evelyn is growing up and testing the boundaries. I will not tolerate rude and contrary behaviour.’
Lady Pendragon looked at the letter she still held in her hand. ‘The situation must have been quite dire for him to leave without speaking to us first.’
‘He has always been most agreeable, but I can see that it would have been very difficult for him to broach the subject with us, considering our recent bereavement.’
His wife’s bottom lip began to tremble. He plucked the letter from her hand and offered her a handkerchief. She refused, but withdrew one of her own from her sleeve. He left the table, so she could dab her tears alone. He had seen her weep so much of late that he was becoming immune, even irritated, by her frail emotions.
‘I was afraid Evelyn would not be up to the task,’ he said as he took up his position in the centre of the room to wait for her arrival. ‘Mr Burrows expressed his doubts, but I insisted that my daughter was not like other girls. I told him that she was able to cope.’ He looked at the letter in his hand. ‘Howard will find this fiasco amusing.’ He waved it at his wife. ‘I can see him now, sharing the news with his friends at the club, scornful of my ability to secure a future for Carrack. Laughing at me.’ He scrunched the letter in his hand and threw it across the room. ‘Evelyn has let me down. She has let us both down. And she has made me look like a fool.’
‘Don’t distress yourself, Robert.’
He looked at his wife in some surprise. ‘I am not distressed. I am bloody furious.’
* * *
Evelyn stared at the schoolroom clock. Mr Burrows was late. He was never late. Was this a new ploy to trick her? The thought unnerved her. Had he told her to meet him somewhere? Was he going to use her failure as a reason for ‘The Master’to visit? She tried frantically to recall their last conversation for some clue to his whereabouts. Suddenly, the door opened. It was the butler. Her parents wanted to see her.
