A Gentleman’s Position(15)

He had never quite been able to let go of that as a boy. When he returned from Harrow for the holidays, he had always felt that pulse of excitement as the chaise drew up at Tarlton March, and he had run in to see his parents. His father had been old, grim, and stately, but he had ruffled Richard’s hair and listened to his news. His mother had not, and every time it had been a little blow, because he had always believed this time she might smile at him.

Philip had let go of that belief long before the terrible day. Richard, it seemed, had still not.

Arncliffe House was an uninviting foursquare building in the drab tones of the local stone. The gate was open. Doone brought the carriage up to the house; Cyprian rang the bell. The heavy oak door was opened, several minutes later, by a white-capped woman of some forty years. Her eyes widened as she took in the man on the doorstep.

“Lord Richard Vane. I am here to see Lady Cirencester.”

“Aye, my lord? Well.” She stepped back, opening the door, with a look of grim satisfaction. “I’m to tell ye ye’re too late.”

—

She was laid out in her bedchamber. It was a room that could have been made pretty very easily. Richard remembered his mother liking pretty things. Instead, it was austere, the furniture sharp edged and heavy without being particularly practical, as though it had been chosen for its discomfort.

The body was not pretty either, a day after death. It was skeletally thin from the ravages of the cancer that had killed her, the skin yellowed, lips drawn back. Richard had wondered what he would feel on seeing his mother again, but this frail corpse of an old woman was not his mother. He sat by the bed anyway, holding her hand, because it was the right thing to do.

“I’m sorry,” he said aloud. “I’m sorry I was not in time. I’m sorry I did not know you.” There seemed very little else to say, but he went on anyway, speaking into the silence. “I’m sorry that you did not like me, or Philip. He is an excellent man. You were a grandmother seven times over. Did you know that? Did you never want to see them? I’m sorry that you did not want my letters. I dare say it was an inconvenience for you to receive them, but we were always terribly inconvenient to you, Philip and I. I’m sorry that you disliked us so.” His throat was hurting, but now the words had started coming, he couldn’t stop them. “I’m sorry I could not tell you when I fell in love or seek your comfort when it ended. But then, I couldn’t have done that anyway, and at least I never had to worry about gaining your ill opinion, since I already had that. I’m sorry I never mattered to you in the slightest, because it seems you did matter to me. Why did I not matter?” He stared at the body, wishing for an answer. “Why didn’t you write back?”

Her thin fingers were cold and too light. He let them go. “Well, you rid yourself of Philip very effectually indeed, and now you are rid of it all. I suppose I too should have taken the hint. But I am here now, and I would have come before if you had wanted me.”

That seemed all there was to say. He stood, since the chair was hard and built for slimmer hips than his own, and walked over to the little bureau, looking for duty to do. The housekeeper had said that his mother had been a long time dying and had put her affairs in order well in advance. He was glad of that. He would be glad to leave this loveless, lifeless place.

He opened the bureau.





Chapter 4


Lord Richard had decreed they would stay the night, a single sharp sentence uttered through a half-closed door. It made sense, with the funeral the next day, but it was not a welcoming prospect for all that.

Mrs. Briggs, the housekeeper, had a relish for gloom that David found trying. She offered some reflections on the failings of the Vane family, which he silenced with a few sharp words, and was prevailed on to cook a meal for his lordship at something approaching a decent hour, despite the country habit of dining at six o’clock.

Lord Richard ate alone in the dining room. David served him in silence, since that was clearly required, then had a quick supper with Doone in the kitchen.

“Bloody miserable, this is,” Doone muttered. “How long are we here for?”

As long as Lord Richard wishes was the obvious answer, but David and Doone knew each other too well for that. “I’ll make sure we’re able to leave after the funeral. Can you have the horses ready? I held a room at that last inn, so even if we start late, we can be sure of a bed.”

Doone raised a brow. “All under control, is it?”

“I try to anticipate his lordship’s wishes.”

“Aye, well, I’ll be glad if you anticipate him out of here as quick as you can.” Doone drained his ale. “I’ll go see to the tits. Don’t think much of the stables here, I can tell you.”