‘Kangra tea,’ said Thea, her thoughts flicking back to that terrible day in George’s study. ‘Miss Bellegarde drinks it. And his mother.’
Thea saw Harriet blink. ‘I see the duke is lucky to have contacts such as yourself,’ she said more smoothly than Thea would have managed. ‘What a valuable contribution you make to British politics.’
‘A symbiosis if you will,’ simpered Knatchbull, missing the barb. ‘It is the very type of reciprocity that politics is built upon.’
And Thea feared he was right.
‘You can’t be serious?’ asked Martha, aghast as Mrs Jenkins pinned her shimmering terracotta dress to her stomacher. ‘That’s been the thing all along? I thought it was something important?’
‘That is it,’ said Thea as Joan held out the dress frame. George had insisted on a wide gown, and she stepped into the hoops. ‘He is giving away everything we have, for tea for his mistress.’
Mrs Jenkins harumphed through the pins in her mouth. Mrs Phibbs shook her head as she tidied the tea things – she wouldn’t usually be here at dressing time but Thea suspected she didn’t want to miss the conversation.
‘Too much power,’ muttered Mrs Phibbs. ‘Goes to their heads.’
Martha furrowed her brow. ‘Surely that can’t be it? He didn’t intercept all those packages and letters, build you terrible glasshouses, and then give away all your best plants and growing secrets just for tea? And also…’
She trailed off as Thea caught her eye. They shouldn’t mention that they thought James’ death had been anything other than an accident in front of the staff, but having a footman forge letters before having him killed seemed extreme for tea.
‘I could believe anything of him,’ said Thea, ‘but it does seem excessive. That said, he would not have considered that the impact on me was relevant. The plants are not important to him and he doesn’t care for my happiness. To him the knowledge is only as much of a commodity as is the tea.’
‘And it chimes with the fact that he has decided to move the glasshouses without consulting anyone other than himself,’ said Martha as Mrs Jenkins fastened her skirts. ‘Part of his motive may have been to limit you all along, to protect his pride. He may not have known it. Men’s egos are fragile things in my experience, especially when they have more confidence than capability.’
‘You mark my words,’ said Mrs Jenkins. ‘Money and rank without purpose is dangerous. He’s been told he’s special his entire life. A wife with alternative but innocuous interests is manageable and sometimes helpful. But once those interests start to give you royal or political connections, Your Grace, and to outdo him, well that is quite an issue for a weak man.’
‘He knew you were talented,’ said Joan, ‘but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it or understand how it could benefit him if he supported you. It is a sad thing.’
‘It must have been a difficult thing for his small brain to wrap itself around,’ said Mrs Jenkins.
Mrs Phibbs let out a little snort. ‘Too true. How long has he been planning the glasshouse move, Your Grace?’
‘Long enough to get the plans drawn up it seems,’ said Thea. ‘Months, I would say.’
Mrs Jenkins harumphed through the pins in her mouth and then muttered something that sounded like, ‘deranged.’
‘Proving to you that he can do what he likes,’ said Martha. ‘Now he hasn’t succeeded in keeping you down in any other way. His argument was never against your cultivation of plants. It was against the cultivation of your success and independence.’
‘I’d like to tell him what I thought of him,’ said Mrs Phibbs.
‘I have almost shared my thoughts with him numerous times,’ said Martha dryly.
‘You must all keep them to yourselves,’ said Thea, aiming her words at Martha. ‘You know what he will do if we upset him – you will be out of here in a second.’
‘You can come and live with me at Denbury,’ said Martha, and Thea knew she was only half joking.
‘And he would keep the children,’ said Thea.
Mrs Phibbs muttered something that Thea thought might have been ‘bastard,’ but she let it go.
Martha sighed. ‘And now a dinner with more of them to massage these continuing political relationships. What a wonderful evening.’
‘As long as George doesn’t drink too much, we should be alright,’ she said, biting at her lip. ‘Some of the relationships in this party are becoming increasingly frayed.’
‘Indeed,’ Martha agreed. ‘You say Knatchbull has already addressed his grievances with Crumpacker over the royal visit?’
Thea nodded. ‘Not that it will make much difference.’
‘And Harriet and Emma are back on speaking terms after the incident at Upper Plumbthorne?’
