‘He hasn’t said,’ said Cecily, ‘but he toured around here for some years apparently and is now in London. People speak very highly of him.’
‘Then I shall look forward to it,’ said Thea. But then she looked toward the other ladies in the party. Martha was hanging back, rolling her eyes as Emma wiped sheep poo off her shoe, aided by Helena and Winnie Hatchett. She wasn’t sure this would go well.
Emma had the same horrified look on her face as they entered the forty fifth minute of Dr Travers’ demonstration. Thea wasn’t sure where Cecily had found him, but the man was deathly dull. The subject of the display was the thermal properties of almost anything. He had been very clear about that when he gave the detailed, ten-minute introduction, followed by his methodology and an extensive account of the manner of heat transfer through various materials. Many materials, it seemed. He had tried to make it relatively interesting by using, as the demonstration materials, things that people selected from the house of Cecily and Neville. They had so far watched as he had heated a goblet, a candelabra, a decorative porcelain shepherd, a chair, and Doctor Speckle’s boot. The best bit had been when he almost set fire to a cushion, but that hadn’t even gone up enough for it to be classed as diverting.
Thea slipped further into her chair. It hadn’t helped that Cecily had announced the entertainment by asserting that she was sure it would bring the interests of Her Grace the Duchess of Hartford’s interest in science to life. Thea loved her for trying, but the evening had only served, as she feared, to cement in the minds of the group of society ladies that science was something as dull as they imagined Thea to be. Although she willed him to stop, Dr Travers went on for another half an hour before a final flourish in which he warmed up a little wine, and the crowd clapped feebly. Even the scientist looked like he had bored himself, thought Thea.
‘Well, how about some dinner?’ asked Cecily, getting to her feet and clapping her hands as if to reassure everyone that this, at least might be enjoyable. Thea saw Martha go over to Dr Travers, congratulate him and put a hand on his back as he shook his head. Her heart warmed at the sight of her and her ongoing encouragement of others. She had done the same for Thea herself countless times over the past couple of months.
‘I actually fell asleep; did you see me?’ asked Harriet as they trooped through for dinner. ‘Too much wine early on and that godawful demonstration. It’s a good job you take me to the ones in London, or I should think you were utterly mad.’
Thea sighed. ‘And now everyone here is certain of it.’ Harriet looked to her, apparently alarmed at her dejected tone, but they were all quickly ushered to their respective seats, the wine poured and lavish dishes of prawns, baked lemons, veal, curried beef and beans. Thea found herself sandwiched between Crumpacker and Emma Fairclough, and opposite Doctor Travers. She smiled at him as encouragingly as she could manage.
‘My esteemed Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen.’ Knatchbull’s voice wheedled from the centre of the table. ‘It is the greatest pleasure of Mrs Knatchbull and myself to welcome you all to ourhumble abode.’ Murmurs of appreciation skittered around the table. Thea could see George already motioning to the footman to top up his wine. ‘We have been most fortunate,’ went on Knatchbull, ‘to acquire this excellent home and piece of land and I should give thanks to you and also to the patronage of the ruler of this land to whom I owe a great debt of gratitude. May I ask you to stand and toast to our king and queen.’ He raised his glass at the last statement, and everyone around the table stood to offer their toast. Thea watched the smile on George’s face sour.
‘I must also thank you, dear friends,’ said Knatchbull, enjoying the sound of his own voice, ‘for allowing my wife and I into your folds and welcoming us so generously.’ Thea’s eyes flicked around the table. ‘But mostly,’ he said, grinning. ‘I should thank the enslaved blacks everywhere in the empire for being quite literally revolting and providing a buoyant and ever-growing market for the chains, shackles, collars and masks on which I have built the fortune necessary to make all of this possible.’ His prolonged and barking laugh was aimed all around the table, sending spittle along with it. Thea was thankful they had not yet started eating as the wave of nausea his words conjured was particularly violent. She looked up to find George glaring at her, and Martha eyeing her warily.
‘It is also the most happy coincidence,’ said Neville, showing no signs of stopping. ‘That on the occasion of your generous visit to enjoy our modest shoot, I was able, earlier today, to show the gentlemen the most anticipated success of my career in cultivation thus far.’ Thea’s heart stuttered. Surely not?
‘The successful propagation of the seeds of the king protea!’ Neville held his hands aloft as Thea held her breath. If he had, indeed done it, then he had beaten her. So far none of Frankie’s strange treatments had come to anything, so this wasn’t something he had learned through his spying. She stared at Neville, but he didn’t look at her, not even valuing hercontributions enough to think she was worth his gloating. ‘I hope to please Her Majesty with them just as soon as they are grown to an acceptable maturity,’ he went on, as Thea heard her heartbeat in her ears. ‘And I am beyond grateful that Lady Foxmore has generously provided me with more specimens from her travels that I know she is confident I can coax to life in the verdant womb of the Upper Plumbthorne estate.’
God, did this man never shut up, Thea wondered.
‘Excellent work, Knatchbull,’ said Harriet, after glancing at Thea. ‘We are all indebted to you for your hospitality.’ Her eyes flicked to where the servants waited to bring out the food.
‘You are most terribly welcome, Mrs Henry,’ he said with a weasley smile. ‘Let us eat.’ He motioned for the food to be brought, and the serving began.
Harriet’s eyes flicked to Thea, who thanked her silently. Harriet knew how difficult she must have found the self-congratulatory diatribe.
‘Lady Foxmore,’ said Helena from across the table. ‘I understand from my brother that you have spent some time at Hawkdean House this spring?’
‘Indeed,’ said Martha, swallowing before she spoke. ‘The duke has been so kind as to accommodate myself and Mr Crumpacker. We have a great deal of samples to classify from our last voyage.’
‘Ho,’ said Knatchbull, his eyes sparkling. ‘You must stay here in the future, Lady Foxmore. The duke’s glass range is something although I flatter myself that I would have a greater range of environments which would allow your acquisitions to thrive.’ Thea watched George glower at him, but he wasn’t wrong, she considered. With a start she wondered if she was holding Martha back by keeping her at Hawkdean. Between that, the awkward science demonstration and Knatchbull’s diatribe, she was starting to feel a little unwell.
‘You are most kind, Mr Knatchbull,’ was all that Martha said.
‘And I am sure that Mrs Knatchbull can provide any service and entertainment that you have received at Hawkdean,’ went on Knatchbull, terribly rudely, Thea thought. Martha only inclined her head gracefully, tactfully remaining quiet, but Thea saw Harriet’s eyes quickly flick to hers. At least the mischievous smile she flashed made Thea smile a little.
‘Speaking of the acquisitions,’ Harriet said loudly. ‘I wonder if we might prevail upon Lady Foxmore and Mr Crumpacker to offer us some stories of their adventures?’ Harriet’s eyes flicked to Thea again.
‘Of course,’ said Knatchbull, raising his glass in Martha’s direction. ‘What better way to continue our meal than to hear about the savage provenance of these specimens which are returned to us to cultivate in civilisation. What shall we hear about, Lady Foxmore?’ Thea was relieved. At least she would get to hear more from Martha, and while she was talking, Knatchbull wasn’t.
‘What do you think, Mr Crumpacker?’ asked Martha, smoothly engaging the conversation. ‘Which is the story most appropriate to our company, I wonder? The colours of India?’
‘The tiger,’ said Crumpacker, without thinking. He didn’t look any more comfortable in this company than Thea felt and had retreated into himself a little as Mr Fenwick wasn’t here.
‘Ah,’ said Martha, and her eyes widened a little. Thea saw the twitch in her cheek as the table watched. She hadn’t heard a story about a tiger and looked at Martha expectantly. Martha took a little beef from the plate she was offered and looked to Crumpacker. ‘Do you not think maybe the landslip would be more appropriate?’
Crumpacker shook his head. ‘The tiger story is far more diverting for a dinner party.’
‘Goodness, yes, I want to hear about the tiger,’ said Cecily, eyes wide. ‘How big was it?’
Martha pursed her lips and raised her brows, evidently wondering where to start. ‘I suppose you might say moderately big…’
‘Extremely big,’ said Crumpacker. ‘Around three and a half tall at its shoulders and eleven feet long, give or take. This one was on the island of Sumatra which is in the Indian Ocean.’ Thea had the awkward notion that Martha was trying to hold something back.
‘How far away is that?’ asked Cecily, who had stopped eating through all the excitement.
