‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Martha, clearly understanding.
‘Oh, but we must,’ said Thea sadly.
Martha nodded towards the tutor and the botanist. ‘Look at them. I don’t think we’re the main thing on their mind.’
Thea turned her head. At the table at the other end of the room Mr Crumpacker turned another page of the parchment. Mr Fenwick exclaimed something in a voice entirely unlike any she had ever heard come out of his burly frame and then he laughed – almost a giggle, she thought – and put a hand on Crumpacker’s arm. Crumpacker looked at it, stared for a few seconds and then looked straight at Fenwick, a huge smile on his face.
‘Nobody is allowed to touch Algie,’ said Martha. ‘Apart from Mr Fenwick, it seems.’ She looked as pleased for them as Thea felt.
Thea took a left turn down the wide, marble corridor to George’s study in the east wing. Although ‘study’ was a strong word for it – George ran a little of the estate business from there but mostly, she suspected, he sat and drank brandy or enjoyed Miss Bellegarde over the writing desk. Busts of Crowes past stared at her as she approached – she never lingered in this part of the house, it felt too uncomfortable.
Hesitating outside the door she listened – not wanting to interrupt if today’s activity wasn’t brandy. She heard nothing but Musket’s low growl by her feet, so she knocked. No answer. Should she go in? She almost left, and then thought about Fletcher’s advice – if George’s intended point was uncomfortable, she would rather avoid it coming out at dinner. So she knocked again and entered. Musket hung back – presumably remembering being kicked in this room at some point previously.
George lay on the chaise by the window, one leg up and one flopped on the floor, mouth open and snoring. Sighing, she turned around. She would have to come back when he was awake. But then she heard a snort from behind her. Swallowing, she tried to close the door without making a noise.
‘Who is it?’ barked George, sitting up. She wondered whether to stay, but he was never in the best of moods when he awoke, according to the staff. She slipped down the corridor as quietly as she could but heard a shout from behind.
‘Thea?’ She froze and her shoulders dropped. He had seen her.
‘Sorry to disturb,’ she said, only half turning. ‘I’ll come back later.’
‘You will come now,’ he asserted, and disappeared back into the room. Sighing, she followed him.
‘I understand you have a note from Mr Knatchbull?’ she asked, as jovially as she could muster. ‘Fletcher indicated you may wishto discuss it.’ George sat behind his table and put his feet on it, but he did not gesture for her to sit down.
‘I have,’ he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of a hand. ‘We shall be there in under two months which is why this is extremely inconvenient.’ George threw the letter down on the table. Thea felt a wave of cold fear slide through her.
‘What does he say?’ she asked, keeping her voice as steady as possible and making a quick glance back to check the exit.
‘He says you sent plants to the palace. Milkyweed or something?’
‘I did,’ Thea said. ‘I thought the queen would be pleased.’
‘Indeed she was,’ George said quietly. ‘But I am not and neither is Knatchbull. You know I don’t wish for you to bother important people with your hobby gardening.’
Thea seethed inside, but didn’t dare show it. ‘I thought you would be pleased,’ she said. For better relations with the palace?
‘If you wish to pursue those connections it must be through me,’ said George, ‘as the head of the household.’
‘I see,’ said Thea, not knowing how else to react and keep herself safe.
‘It angered Knatchbull,’ went on George, scratching his fingers through his hair which was currently un-bewigged. ‘He sees it as rivalry and you have caused this upset. Now I will need to work hard to fix it.’ He pressed a fist into the table to leave her in no doubt about how angry he was.
Thea swallowed, hoping this didn’t end up in a temper. ‘I apologise,’ she said, placating. ‘If ever the opportunity comes around again, I shall engage your counsel as you suggest.’ She hated it. But it was necessary.
‘You will,’ he said, glaring at her. ‘And now I have heard from Swadling that Knatchbull has been saying to Fitzroy that I have been seen fraternising with Grenville.’ Thea’s brain tracked thepolitical path. She didn’t hold a great deal of interest in politics but knew that Grenville was in opposition.
‘Fitzroy is still deputising for Pitt?’ she asked, hoping the thought of the Prime Minister would deflect him. It didn’t, and the look he gave her was darker than any she had seen in him before.
‘Yes, Fitzroy is deputising for Pitt,’ he said with a menace in his voice. ‘But the point is that I cannot be undermined by Knatchbull. We must keep him on our side and cannot upset him. Goodness knows how he has the ear of Fitzroy, but it is likely he will become minister, and we must play the game.’
Maybe that was it, thought Thea. That George did actually have some political ambition and was worried Knatchbull would scupper it if he didn’t keep him on side. She felt a strange little relief at the thought of her husband doing something useful, for once.
‘Lady Foxmore has some excellent specimens for Mr Knatchbull,’ said Thea, glad she had thought to call into the library on the way here. ‘I am sure he will be delighted.’
George raised his chin. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘And you will behave yourself at the shooting party.’
‘I will… I am sorry, I will what?’ she asked, trying not to sound too defiant.
