Daisychain Summer. Elizabeth Elgin
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know about him being all right, sir, but I believed what he told me about his wife and bairn and about the army cheating him out of a pension. But I’ll move him on in the morning, if that’s what you want.’
‘I don’t want it, and you know it!’ Ralph Hillier snapped. ‘If the man is genuine then it’s my duty to do something for him. If I gave him a couple of pounds to help him on his way, d’you think he’d spend it in the nearest ale house?’
‘That I can’t say, though if you’ve got a pair of boots you’ve no need of, I think they’d serve him better. The ones he’s wearing aren’t a lot of use.’
‘I see.’ He gazed long into the fire before he said, ‘And if you were me, Dwerryhouse, what would you want to do for him?’
‘I’d want to set him and his family up in Willow End Cottage and give him a job as dog boy.’
There now, he’d said it. He looked down at the toes of his boots.
‘You would, eh? But then, you’re a crafty devil, aren’t you, Dwerryhouse. In need of another keeper, aren’t we? Is that what you’re getting at?’
‘No, sir. If I’m to speak truthfully, I can manage this estate nicely on my own – well, near as dammit. I could do with a hand, though – especially at rearing time. I’m not one for buying fancy feed for chicks; like to make my own. Someone to see to the dogs and mix the feed – help generally with the rearing – would suit me nicely. And him once being a keeper, he could school your dogs – keep ’em in form.’
‘Ha! And how’s that little girl of yours, eh?’
‘She’s grand, thank you kindly. Smiled, this morning, for the first time.’
‘I see. And is that usual?’
‘Alice says it is. Next thing, she’ll be chuckling, I’m told,’ Tom grinned, eager to talk about Daisy yet sad his suggestion had fallen on barren ground. ‘I was doing a blackbird for her – you know, that tock-tocking they give out when they’ve been alarmed. It must have tickled her fancy.’
‘A blackbird?’ Tock-tocking, whatever that was? ‘Willow End Cottage, did you say? But it’s in a bad state, or so I’m told.’
‘Don’t you believe it, Mr Hillier. Nothing that a good scrub out and a lick of paint won’t put right – and fires lit, regular, so it won’t go damp.’
‘Hmm.’ Again the gazing into the fire. ‘All right, then. I’ll hold you responsible for his good behaviour since he’ll come without references. He can have Willow End. Ten shillings a week as dog boy, all the fallen wood he can gather, and the usual rabbits. One month’s trial, after which he can send for his family. Is that all right?’
‘I’d say, sir, it’s a fine and kindly gesture and he’ll thank you for it. And Alice’ll be glad, having another woman living within earshot, an’ all – especially when I’m out nights watching the woods.’
‘Right, then. You’d better tell him in the morning. And don’t forget to let them know in the estate office!’ Abruptly, he picked up his newspaper, the interview over. ‘And not a penny more’n half a sovereign, remember!’
‘Right you are, sir. I’ll see myself out – and I reckon Purvis will do all right for Windrush.’
A bit of a come-down, Tom pondered, from keeper to dog boy, but ten shillings a week, a roof over his head and firewood and rabbits was more than a lot of men had, these days. And with luck there’d be a pair of boots thrown in, an’ all!
Not a bad bloke, Mr Hillier – for an employer, that was. A bit abrupt in his speaking, but he’d pulled himself up from nothing, talk had it, and didn’t have the easy way with words that real gentry were born with, Tom allowed.
He wished his father were alive, could tell him what had happened between him and Ralph Hillier. ‘The job of keeper is yours, Dwerryhouse,’ Mr Hillier had said. ‘I owe your father a favour from a long way back, though you might not know it. If your references are all right, you can start at once.’
That had been two years ago, though what the favour, nor when, Tom had never discovered. Sufficient that a deserter should get a job so easily, he’d thought gratefully and left it at that.
He made quickly for home, and wondering what odds to offer that tomorrow didn’t find Mr Hillier gazing into Daisy’s pram, doing his best to make a sound like a blackbird alarmed, he grinned.
A secret man, his employer, and not given to outward emotions, yet a man with a kind heart beneath his waistcoat, and a man who remembered favours owed …
At King’s Cross station, Elliot Sutton wished his aunt and father goodbye, then took a taxi to Cheyne Walk.
‘I hope you’ll find Aunt Sutton much improved.’ He raised his hat, smiling charmingly at his aunt.
‘I’ll keep in touch with your mother,’ Edward said briefly as his son drove away.
‘Perhaps you should have looked in on Clemmy,’ Helen frowned. ‘Put her in the picture …’
‘At seven in the morning?’ Edward demanded. ‘No, I’ll leave it to Elliot to tell her, though he knows no more than I. And what’s going on there and why Clemmy needs Elliot so urgently is beyond me. She has her reasons, I suppose, and I shall be told when the time is right.
‘Now let’s get ourselves onto the Dover train. We should have a smooth crossing. I’ll send a telegram to Monsieur Bossart from Calais – let him know we’re on our way.’
‘You are a good man, Edward. I really shall be glad of your company and the sooner I see for myself that Anne Lavinia is all right, the better.’
‘But you know I’m fond of her – she’s my sister, after all. It’s my duty to go to her, apart from the fact that I want to. So stop fretting, Helen. We should be there by early evening and till then, leave all the worrying to me.’
‘I will indeed.’ He was so like John; so good, so considerate. He didn’t deserve Clemmy nor Elliot; a pity he’d had to follow the only road open to most second sons and marry where money lay. Clementina, the only child of a wealthy ironmaster, had proved to be his salvation, if salvation it could be called, and now Clemmy was richer than ever, her foundries having profited from the war. Sad that Edward could not have been as happy as she and John; a pity his firstborn had been so indulged by his mother.
‘What are you worrying about now?’ Edward cut in to her thoughts. ‘You were frowning.’
‘Oh, just – just hoping Clemmy won’t worry too much,’ she hastened, blushing.
‘Clemmy will not worry at all. My wife is receiving a countess this morning and cannot possibly spare the time to worry about anything else. That Elliot’s presence is needed there makes me think she has started her matchmaking again. She wants him married, you know.’
‘Just like every mother,’ Helen defended loyally. ‘Now things seem to be getting back to normal after the war, I think Clemmy has every right to expect grandchildren.’
‘She has one in America already, don’t forget.’
‘I mean an heir, for Pendenys. We have Drew – it’s only natural Clemmy should want to see things settled, too. Let’s hope Elliot soon finds himself a wife.’
‘You are too charitable, Helen. All I can hope is that the young lady, whoever she might be, comes with plenty of backbone. She’ll need it, married to my son,’ he murmured as a taxi drew up beside them. ‘But let’s see to Anne Lavinia first and leave Elliot’s future in Clemmy’s most capable hands.’
If anyone could get the better of his eldest son, it was his wife. Clemmy had the money; she it was who called the tune. And sooner or later, Elliot would dance to it.
‘So, you’ve got yourself here at last!