Growing Good (6)

Friends Afar (3)

It was really quite unbearably cold, even so cumbered with furs that he must resemble a bear, thought Gillie – Lord Gilbert Beaufoyle, of Her Majesty’s Diplomatic Service, duties somewhat unspecified, at present posted to St Petersburg. Lord, he knew all these parts were cold during the winter months – but somehow fancied 'twould have been different had he lingered along with his friends the Imbremeres on Count Rozovsky’s estate in the Ukraine.

But even there, he dared suppose, they would eventually have received, long behindhand, the English newspapers.

Somehow, however, it would – perhaps – have been easier for him to learn the news by reading it over himself, rather than hearing a couple of fellows in the club frequented by the English community exchanging gossip and downright speculation over this Trembourne business – discovered dead and robbed in St Giles – what do you make of it, eh? – his physician claims he died of some quackery –

He had – sure he had had enough practice by now in keeping a diplomatic expression upon his face – not shown any particular reaction to this intelligence upon hearing it, and had not gone particular impetuous to where the newspapers were kept in order to find the reports and peruse them with observable intensity to find out what had happened and whether there was aught concerning Rosy. For had been – o, was no matter of a few months, was well over a year – that he and Lady Trembourne had gone from being colleagues in the business of gleaning secret intelligence for the nation’s interests to being lovers, despite the difference in their ages.

No, had gone and picked up a handful of papers and did his best to act as if quite idly browsing through 'em to see was there any intelligence, mayhap, of impending marriages of friends &C – whether their nags were showing well on the course –

But indeed one might pause at the report of a peer of the realm found dead in such an insalubrious part of Town! even had one not known his wife.

One might also, in the interests of being able to gossip and speculate, linger a little over the increasingly tangled tale of Fendersham’s runaway bride and her marriage – that might be no legal union – to the rascal O’Neill. Quite the Gothic novel.

And then, in Court news, the mention that the Dowager Countess of Trembourne had gone abroad for her health.

What could that import? He was sure that dutiful Grissie Undersedge – and her husband Greg, that was ever about doing the proper thing – would hardly have expelled her from the family household – one could not imagine Jimsie – now married and the Earl – doing that either –

Might it be – might it? – that Sir Vernon had some business for which Rosy was most particular fitted, and it fell very apt that she had the excuse of being pulled down by grieving widowhood to resort to some spaw?

There was no means by which they could communicate. He could hardly enquire of Sir Vernon! And he could not think of anyone, anyone, that he might write to asking the questions he so desperately needed answering – how is she? where is she?

He did not think – he did not! – none of the speculations tended that way – that she had somehow contrived release. While any who had ever encountered the late Earl entirely agreed that he would not be greatly missed, he had been an irritating annoyance, rather than the kind of husband that wives disposed of. And, were they fortunate, were defended by Mr Geoffrey Merrett in court and found innocent.

But did he remain outdoors much longer he would freeze to death. Even was this the only means by which he could be properly alone with these thoughts, he must go back indoors and get warm. There was little prospect of any milder climate in the near future – he was in anticipation of being ordered to a tour of the capitals and principal cities of the frozen Baltic.

Stamping his booted feet to bring back some sensation, he turned towards lights and warmth.

***

Christie – Christopher Fendersham of Her Majesty’s Consular Service in Lima – looked fondly across the breakfast table at his very new bride, Amanda.

She smiled back at him. I am sure I was never so happy to give up anything as when I resigned my keys to my new stepmama! That has, I saw when I went call upon 'em yesterday, begun upon a fine thorough turn-out, that I fancy Papa finds very disturbing to his equanimity, for she has not omitted his study from her endeavours. I only hope she does not annoy the servants into leaving.

Well, my love, 'tis no longer any problem of yours.

She sighed happily. Quite so. Dear Christie – sure it has not been quite seven years, but you were obliged to wait a deal of a while.

He grinned. But at least here we are, wedded, 'tis not the like of my half-brother the Baron Fendersham. Lord, that was a tale one never expected – that far from having some theological qualm over remarriage, he had a longstanding devotion to that Wauderkell woman, and when her detriment of a husband died, went about to marry her, and then she elopes with some scoundrel, and now it seems it was bigamy –

Mayhap that is what happens does one intend marrying an author. But, my love, I am very prepossessed by the way in which your mother has writ to me – quite the kindest letter – is there some possibility you might invite her here?

Oh, have oft offered to her, since Pa died, but she has formerly pleaded the responsibilities that fell upon her when my brother became a widower with a young daughter still on his hands – she is exceptional fond of Scilla – but now Scilla is so well married, and also now Mama has already ventured to visit Tina in Halifax and seen how comfortable travelling may be in this modern age –

Amanda made a little moue and said, sure sea-voyages were positively pleasant, but traversing the isthmus at Panama was still somewhat of an ordeal – though she dared say, an improvement upon rounding the Horn!

But do you truly wish –

My dearest, is there some difficulty?

Christie sighed. Alas, I became so used to people taking a prejudice against dear Mama in the belief that she was a designing hussy that had took advantage of a man in his dotage – that Pa was not quite when they met, though a good deal older than she was, and of course a widower with children nearly of her own years – and she was of but modest birth, the daughter of a country town physician. But Granny made it quite clear to Tina and me that 'twas more in the nature of a sacrifice – that it was by no means the like of a match she had wished for, but there they were, Grandpapa being the kind of physician whose humane care for his patients extended to not dunning 'em for his fees and having left 'em in some straits. There was Mama obliged to go out giving music lessons – playing for dancing classes – they were having the greatest difficulty in making ends meet even with the strictest oeconomy – and there was the prospect of marriage into very comfortable circumstances – generous pin-money – presents of hothouse fruit and game &C from the estate to Granny and a deal of visiting –

That was a very fine thing, said Amanda firmly.

So there was Mama, that had had some ambition to be the wife of a doctor the like of Jenner, wedded to a fellow that was increasingly invalid and fussing and demanding of her – and the household coming under the domination of my Evangelical half-brother – all exceedingly tiresome, especially after Granny died and Tina and I no longer had that refuge – Tina used to declare that she would marry the first man that asked her just to get away – fortunately at her very first ball she met Alan Gartslade! and that fell out most propitious.

But now, Christie went on with a gratified expression, here is Mama these days moves in very good Society that quite appreciates her qualities – admires her musical talents – &C&C – much invited about –

Though, he went on with a groan, reading between the lines of her letters, because of the goings-on of my half-brother she is finding a deal of responsibility falls to her – for my nephew is a thoughtless creature that thinks of naught but country sports – hound trails – wrestling – hunting – drinking with his cronies –

I see, said Amanda with a fond smile, wherefrom you get your own sense of responsibility, my love!

Christie blushed, and, flustered, said, look at the time! 'twas high time he was off about his business, rose, and went to kiss his bride very lingering.

***

Elspeth Forsyth looked around the table. Across to dear Charlie Darcy, that was supposed her husband, because 'twas a prudent matter for a lady that was an actress in New York to be give out married, and also, added a charm for the audience when they acted opposite one another.  From side to side at their guests, Giovanni di Serrante of Boston, and Alan Gartslade of Halifax, Nova Scotia.

She and Charlie had debated whether to invite Mavis d’Souza, her own dear love, and had felt a certain caution. Mavis gave herself out of Portuguese descent, but they knew that was a way of concealing Negro ancestry, that even in the free air of New York might bring difficulties. Here was Mavey, with a flourishing business in making daguerrotypes, had more to lose than two English thespians.

Sure there were reasons why they had quit their native shore, but as Charlie said, that had been some while ago, and fancied that these days, fresh from triumphs upon the Yankee stage, did it become a necessity they might essay a return.

So, here they were, in convocation with two gentlemen that were, most exceeding covert as one would anticipate, involved with the Underground Railroad. Di Serrante’s father, of an antient Neapolitan aristocratic family, had married into the extensive Quaker Purdew connexion, been converted into a Friend and an abolitionist. Alan Gartslade was the representative in Halifax of the Gartslade shipping interests and several times in the year voyaged down the Atlantic seaboard from the British territory of Nova Scotia to New York.

'Twas, they had agreed, the right thing to do.