‘As you enjoyed.’
‘As I enjoyed in my youth. He prefers his own company and is more studious than I ever was. He takes after his mother. However, I think he will be amenable to the suggestion. What of Evelyn?’
‘Evelyn is still too young.’
‘Old enough.’
‘The last few years have been turbulent, what with Nicholas’s illness and . . . passing.’
‘And Evelyn’s illness.’
‘Quite. This past year has been calmer. I like the fact that our day-to-day life is now more orderly. Evelyn now accompanies me on my trips to our tenants. She converses with them with an ease I can only admire. They respect her for who she is, not the position she holds in their lives.’
‘You think she is capable of running the estate when you have gone? Even if that means losing the Pendragon name to another family?’
‘No.’ Sir Robert sighed. He had foolishly hoped that once, but not any more. ‘No, I do not. At least, not alone. With a reliable and wise husband by her side taking the lead, I think Carrack House and Estate will be in safe hands. However, given her age and innocence, I think she is too young to consider the proposal of marriage with a logical eye at the moment.’
‘So my suggestion is worth considering?’
Sir Robert watched Evelyn and Mawgan turn and walk slowly away from them, his daughter’s fair hair hidden behind a lace parasol. Mawgan, twenty years old and a few inches taller, walking steadily by her side. The number of occasions they had met could be counted on one hand. They barely knew one another.
Howard refilled their glasses and re-joined him by the window. ‘Tell me my proposal is not off the table.’
Sir Robert thrust out his chin. The cousins were finally out of sight and it became easier to consider his brother’s suggestion seriously. Howard was right; their marriage would be a solution to all their problems, yet he was still reluctant to give his full acceptance.
‘I’m not sure, Howard. She is so innocent.’
Howard drank from his glass and cleared his throat. ‘I was thinking of sending Mawgan on a tour of the Empire after he has finished his studies at Oxford. A year or two spent travelling willprovide the experience a gentleman of good standing requires.’ He looked pointedly at his brother. ‘Experience will mould him into a loyal husband, one who appreciates his roots and his home.’ Sir Robert met his gaze. ‘Give him the wisdom a husband requires . . . that Evelyn requires. But perhaps when he returns?’
Sir Robert returned his gaze to the gardens laid out below and drank deeply from his brandy glass.
‘Robert, is it off the table?’ pressed Howard.
Sir Robert suddenly felt tired, feeling every ache in his bones anew.
‘No,’ he replied. He met his brother’s gaze. ‘It is not off the table.’
Chapter Fifteen
Samuel Timmins, his hands thrust into deep pockets and his shoulders hunched against the evening chill, had lost track of time a while back. He had found the house easily, its situation, warped stony walls and little windows that allowed little light inside. He had often visited Perran Village when he was a young man and knew its tangled lanes and quaint little houses well. Nothing had changed, yet everything had.
He was aware of the fragility of life. He saw it every day, a thriving plant dead within hours of a morning frost, or a bountiful crop diseased and rotting at the turn of the weather. Yet, it always surprised him how a man’s world could change on a spoken word, an object found, a discovery of the truth or in the belief of someone’s lies. This morning he had been ignorant of the facts or he had put them to the back of his mind and ignored them. A man is good at ignoring what he does not want to face. He was the best. He had perfected the skill for a long time now. Not any more.
It was Abel who had inadvertently forced his hand this morning. He had reported to him that he had seen Drake speaking to Miss Evelyn in a too familiar tone. On further questioning, he admitted that Miss Evelyn had not been insulted by his lack of respect, but Abel felt it was his duty to report Drake for overstepping the mark. He had expected the head gardener to dismiss Drake, but it was his accusations Timmins chose to ignore, much to the lad’s irritation. However, unknown to Abel, his words had played on his mind long after the boy had left his office. The truth was Abel had only voiced his own growing suspicions.
On several occasions he had come upon Drake hard at work, appearing oblivious to Miss Evelyn walking away in the distance. He had not caught them talking, as Abel had done, or evenclose enough to hold a conversation, but something unnerved him and made the hairs at the back of his neck prickle. If they had been found alone, her reputation would be compromised and Drake’s apprenticeship would be terminated. He had grown fond of Drake and did not want his training to end. So he had spent the latter part of the morning compiling a list of suitable establishments and a reference to his good character. Drake could undertake his final year of basic training elsewhere and then he would be ready to be a journeyman, the next step in his apprenticeship that would take him from mere gardener to the path of head gardener and, eventually, landscape architect, the profession he hoped to achieve.
He had summoned the boy to his office and told him the good news, fully expecting Drake to be grateful and enthusiastic about the next phase of his apprenticeship. He was wrong. The boy, nay the man, looked him in the eye and refused to go. For a moment Timmins was lost for words. This was what Drake had wanted. This was what he deserved. The familiar feeling of unease resurfaced. If Drake thought he had a choice in the matter, he would be sorely disappointed.
Drake had left then, his fists clenched and a stubborn frown marking his brow. Timmins had watched him through the window of his office, half angry, half inwardly admiring the boy’s growing confidence and ability to argue his point. Drake had a stubborn streak that he recognised and he found himself smiling at the thought. It was in that moment his world changed forever, brought about by enlightenment he had not been searching for.
The legs that had held him up for most of his fifty-four years suddenly felt as weak as a new-born babe’s. He reached blindly for the chair and sat heavily upon it, pale and stricken. There, he remained for the rest of the day, uncharacteristically idle as he was unable to concentrate on the ledgers in front of him. His absence outside went unnoticed by his staff as plantscontinued to be tended, crops harvested and produce prepared. The gardens’ routine remained unchanged, but inside the head gardener’s office, everything had.
Timmins banged on the door with his weathered knuckles and waited. He heard the light footsteps of a woman approach the door. The door opened only wide enough for a woman’s face to look out. Her eyes immediately lifted to meet his.
‘Samuel,’ whispered the woman, wide-eyed at his sudden appearance.
‘Your boy, Drake,’ he muttered, feeling suddenly breathless again. ‘I know he’s mine.’
