Page 33
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As he entered his hallway, he was told by Maltby that Lord Flambard had not yet returned, but Miss Rose and her maid had been here some time entertaining the young gentleman in the kitchen. Mr Shilton’s immediate impulse was to go and join them, but he knew he had to protect himself from the turmoil of emotion that, unbidden, rose in his breast on any contact with that disconcerting young woman. In thinking of her as troublesome for disturbing every element of his ordered existence, Ferdy wondered if he was no better than the ignorant pup, Lord Lockhart. Was this yet another necessary refinement of his judgement? In search of uncomplicated consolation, he headed for his library and picked up his well-worn volume of Walter Scott’s The Lady of the Lake, in which the mellifluous words never failed to settle an unquiet spirit.
The front door banged shut with an abruptness never allowed by Maltby. Ferdy looked up to see Max Flambard burst into the room. His lordship was looking vaguely alarmed. ‘Sorry, Ferdy, a maid let me in and the wind caught the door.’
‘What is it, Max?’
‘I thought I saw the Count’s liegeman driving past in a carriage and wonder what he’s doing still in London. I hope not looking for me.’
‘You’re just too distinctive in appearance, you know.’
Max gave a bitter laugh ‘There’s little I can do about that. Would you have me wear a monk’s cowl or a full Venetian mask?’
Ferdy put down his book in exasperation. ‘Max, it’s just I worry about you and your rackety life. You don’t seem to have learned much in your years of exile. Why not give up Mrs Payton and marry and become more settled in your ways?’
Max snorted with amusement. ‘It’s more a matter of whether she will give me up! I’ve noticed something comes over women at forty. It’s very gratifying to a man like me but can be hard to escape.’
Ferdy’s exasperation turned to anger. ‘You don’t seem to see how improper it is to carry on your liaison with the woman whose husband you killed in a duel, the woman who will be my mother-in-law. I have her daughter’s feelings as my first priority, you know.’
‘Don’t tell me marriage is going to turn you all prosy and prudish.’ He scoffed.
‘Having concern for the welfare of another is no bad thing.’
‘It is if it makes you change in some fundamental way, old friend.’ Max was at Ferdy’s side, his hand on his shoulder. ‘Like your taste in clothes. You used to fight at school for your right to wear what you chose. We, as your friends, would join the fray to defend you. I earned many a bloodied nose from those altercations. You can’t now give up your blue and yellow coats, your dandy ways, without a fight!’
This touched a raw nerve in Ferdy, who could barely bring himself to glance at the side of his dressing room where Gordon had hung all his beautifully tailored blue and green coats, even the sunny yellow one that Corinna had immortalised in her portrait of him, now blazing unapologetically in the drawing room. Out of respect for Miss Payton’s feelings, he had turned his gaze on the sombre tones he mostly wore for funerals and official engagements when colour, frivolity and pleasure were frowned upon. Was this a compromise too far? he wondered with some apprehension.
The desire to join the happy throng in the kitchen became irresistible. He could hear Miss Rose’s delicious laugh among the clamour of voices and childish babble. Ferdy left his friend with the sporting pages and the decanter of brandy and walked down the corridor towards the laughter.
He stood on the threshold unseen as he surveyed what the source was of so much conviviality. Billy was crawling round the room, passing in and out of shafts of afternoon sun that flickered through the branches of the beech tree outside. His golden head was sporadically illuminated as he covered the ground with such speed and efficiency that John, the groom, had constructed a gate to keep him from the hot stove, yet give him the run of the large stone-flagged room.
The child paused to investigate the range of pots Mrs Porton had put out for him to bash with a wooden spoon. The cook had placed her celebrated fruit cake in the centre of the table and Mabel, Dot and Miss Rose were sitting with a cup of tea and a generous slice on a plate before them, watching Billy’s progress while chatting in a desultory way. How comforting the sight was.
Miss Rose had been stuffing a calico doll she had made with a cotton-like substance to give it form and suddenly turned to see Mr Shilton standing in the shadows. She started and then smiled. ‘We were just discussing how clever Billy is,’ she said with a laugh.
Mrs Porton stood up, as did Dot and Mabel. ‘Oh Sir, can I offer you some cake and a cup of tea. In the library perhaps?’
‘No, I’d be happy to have it here, Mrs Porton. You seem to be having a much jollier time than I with only Lord Flambard for company.’
Billy had heard his voice and with his evident pleasure in masculine company, he crawled towards Ferdy and hauled himself to standing by clinging to his knees. Mr Shilton looked ruefully at his immaculate buckskins which bore the dirty paw print of the young gentleman who now proceeded to hold up his arms in supplication, saying the only words he seemed to know, ‘For Billy’.
Mabel tried to intervene. ‘I’m afraid he is drawn to the men, Sir. He did the same to Maltby, who’s now searching for the old house bell in the stables for him to bash.’
Mr Shilton was astounded. ‘Maltby? Looking for a toy for the child?’ He turned to Madeleine with a laugh. ‘Well, Miss Rose, perhaps Billy is a magical baby, after all. To soften old Maltby’s heart; the child has much more charm than I!’
Billy was still extending his arms, expecting to be picked up. Mr Shilton looked doubtful and Mabel again reassured. ‘Mr Shilton, Sir, I’ve just changed the boy’s clouts. He’s dry as a bone.’
Mr Shilton could no longer ignore the expectation in the room that he, like everyone else, would be charmed by the lad and put him on his knee. He picked Billy up, aware that seeing them together thus would make the assembled company immediately even more certain that they beheld father and son. He was right; as he settled Billy in his embrace, Ferdy noticed the faces around him soften into sentimentality; Mrs Porton’s, Mabel’s, Dot’s and even Maltby, who had returned from the stables triumphantly carrying the bell, bore a foolish half-grin. He glanced across at Miss Rose, but her head was lowered, concentrating on embroidering the eyes of the rag doll she had made.
Mr Shilton smiled at the comical aspect of its yellow wool hair and bright blue eyes. ‘I presume that is meant to look like Billy?’
Madeleine glanced up and Ferdy was once again caught by the amusement in her striking eyes. In a mad impulse, he found himself longing to have those mesmerising eyes looking at him with more than friendship – with desire. This unwelcome thought was thrust from his mind by the sound of raised voices in the library, one of them unmistakeably speaking French.
He leapt to his feet and motioned to hush the room. ‘Stay here, all of you, including you, Maltby.’ His whisper was fierce and authoritative and no one thought to disobey their master. But not being his servant, Madeleine ignored this directive and slipped out of the room after him.
Ferdinand Shilton was as alert and quiet as a cat in pursuit of its prey. He padded noiselessly into the hallway. The voices in the library had also quietened. Then the deadly sound of a flintlock pistol being cocked chilled Madeleine to the core, and she watched Mr Shilton reach for his swordstick kept behind the clock on the chest in the hall. Of the highest quality, it made not a sound as he twisted the silver dog’s head and slipped out the rapier blade, its thin steel flashing and lethal.
Madeleine was suddenly overcome with fear and stood stock-still, holding her breath. The danger of the situation was clear; with a wrong move, murder could well be done, and her disregard of Mr Shilton’s wishes in following him made her ashamed of her headstrong stupidity in risking his life and hers. She flattened herself against the wall in the shadows by the kitchen door, afraid of alerting this unknown assailant to Mr Shilton’s presence.
