“I should be happy to execute any commission there for you, Mrs Hastings,” Jamie said. “Messages to your friends, and so on.”
“I should go to Oxford myself before too long,” Mrs Hastings said. “My little house is still sitting empty there, and it does not seem as if I shall ever return. The attorney has a possible tenant for me, so I must clear out all my belongings and bid my friends farewell. There is the bank, too, to arrange for my modest income to be paid to Brinchester.”
“Then why not come with me?” Jamie said. “I shall have pleasant company on the road, and you will have someone to assist with your business dealings, should you have the need.”
“Well… perhaps,” she said. “Thank you for the kind offer, and I will consider it. But look, it is almost two o’clock. Shall we go and watch the fencing?”
They reached the Marble Hall by way of the northern stairwell, to find the duke enthroned in the doorway to the White Drawing Room, with the duchess and a gaggle of Merrington ladies around him. In the opposite stairwell, a cluster of servants watched with interest. The spectacle was provided by Mr Chamberlain and his valet, Pendleton, stripped to their shirts and breeches. Jamie was not at all knowledgeable in the sport, but he could admire the footwork and the speed with which the combatants wielded their weapons. From time to time, the duke would call out‘Bravo!’, so presumably the skill on display was of a high quality.
His father and Mrs Hastings soon tired of it, and retreated to the study, and the duke’s entourage diminished, too, until only the duchess still stood by his side, seemingly enthralled, for her attention never wavered. Even the servants began to drift away, but Jamie noticed that Mr Richard’s valet was one of those lingering. Quietly, he made his way through various rooms until he came round to the other stairwell.
“Well, Weston, what do you make of it?”
“Very interesting, sir.”
“I never realised before that fencing was a necessary part of a valet’s duties. How is your skill with a blade?”
Weston gave him a wintry smile. “Not up to Mr Pendleton’s, that much is certain.”
“Where would he learn such arts, do you suppose?”
“Not in any establishment that I ever heard of, sir, but I understand that he came into Mr Chamberlain’s service in Italy. Foreigners do things differently, don’t they, sir?”
“Indeed they do, Weston.”
But it seemed an inadequate answer, he felt.
He returned to the study to find his father gone, and the duke rummaging through books on the shelves.
“Your grace? Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“The Baronetage. We must have one somewhere, but it is not with the Peerage.”
“On the table over here, already open at Mr Chamberlain’s family.”
“Ah! Thank you, Hammond. Ah yes, Sir Bradley Chamberlain. I had some business with him, years ago, but I forget what. Around seventy-four, it would have been. Where are the diaries for that period?”
“In the safe, I expect,” Jamie said, pulling the key from his pocket, and opening the cupboard door that hid the safe. “My father went through the seventies some time ago, but I think the diaries for that time are all back now. Yes, here they are. Do you want me to look for references to Sir Bradley?”
“No, no. It will amuse me to read it for myself. I shall take these two, Hammond. The section I want will be in one of these. Heavens, so many words written! Did I really do so much in those days? Now it all seems like a blur, as if the days and years just went flying past, but then… so much happening, so many long summer days and lively winter nights.” He chuckled, suddenly, his bushy eyebrows wiggling as he looked at Jamie. “We knew how to live in those days, my boy. Not like you young ones, who never seem to put a foot out of line. That Chamberlain boy — generations of blameless souls! Now where is the fun in that, eh?”
So saying, he disappeared with the two volumes of diaries from more than thirty years ago, to relive his event-filled days.
Jamie shook his head, and sat down at his desk, but was immediately struck by the sight of Mrs Hastings sitting staring into space.
“Are you quite well, madam?”
She jumped, as if she had forgotten he was in the room. “Oh… oh yes, but the mail arrived and there was a letter from Hertfordshire.”
“Mr and Mrs Payne?”
She nodded, managing a wan smile. “They will be home before the end of the week. Is that not good news?”
“But it makes you sad… another happy couple to remind you of all you have lost?”
“Exactly! And… before too long… I expect there will be an announcement.”
“An announcement? From the Paynes? Oh! A baby!”
