She was waiting in the Blue Room. ‘Shall we meet the rest of the family, Nicholas?’ she said brightly. ‘They are so looking forward to seeing you.’ They were assembled in the drawing room, and Renzi was gratified to see Richard, whom he had last seen in very different circumstances in Jamaica where Richard owned a sugar plantation – they exchanged a brotherly grin. Fourteen-year-old Edward had no doubt about a welcome and little Beatrice shyly dropped him a curtsy. A warning glance from his mother prepared him for his next younger brother. ‘Henry, are you keeping well?’
‘Tolerably, tolerably,’ was all the answer Renzi knew he was going to get from that sullen young man, and he turned back to the others.
‘Nicholas, old fellow, we’ve missed you,’ Richard said breezily. ‘Why don’t we take a turn round the estate before we dine and see what’s changed? You don’t mind, Mama?’
As soon as they were out of earshot Richard dropped the jolliness and looked at Renzi keenly. ‘I hope you don’t believe I broke confidences when I told Mother you were safe and well, and had taken to seafaring? She did so grieve after you, Nicholas.’
‘No, Richard, it was kind in you. I should have considered her more.’
‘Father was in such a fury when you left – he swore he would whip the hide from you when you returned. Then when you did not, he went into himself, if you understand me. Mama dared not tell him of – of where you were. The shame would have been too much.’
Renzi said nothing: his time before the mast had been hard and the experience was burned in his memory, but it was also the first time he had felt truly a man. He had won his place in this world by his own courage, skill and fortitude – and the depth of friendships forged in the teeth of gales and at the cannon’s mouth. It was wildly at odds with life ashore and he had lived life to the full. He would never forget it.
As they talked they passed so many things of his childhood remembrance: the high-walled garden, the winding path to the woodland park, the pond where once he had ducked Henry for impudence. So much of his life was rooted here.
Renzi supposed that he would dress for dinner: his luggage did not cover more than travel clothing. To his wry amusement the odd things he had left here did not fit his now strong, spare figure – his father would have to take him as he was.
The meal began stiffly: no one could ignore the glowering presence of his father at the head of the table, Renzi once more at his right hand. Fortunately, Richard sat opposite and took a wicked delight in teasing out amiable platitudes to the point of absurdity, much to their mother’s bafflement and their father’s fury, but it eased Renzi’s feelings.
Henry sat further down, pale features set, eyes fixed balefully on his elder brother. ‘So, you conceived it a duty to go on a boat as a common sailor? Then praise be that you have regained your senses and are restored to us.’
Renzi half smiled. ‘It’s said that sea air is a sovereign remedy – is this why the King takes the waters at Weymouth? I have found it the most salubrious of all in the world.’
Henry smiled thinly. ‘No doubt of it. Nicholas, do tip us some sea cant – I find excessively droll Jack Tar’s way with words. So plain-speaking, as we might say.’
‘Boys!’ Their mother reproved them in much the old way. ‘Remember where you are. I will not have bickering at the table.’
Uncharacteristically, his father had made no contribution, although Renzi had felt his eyes on him. When the cloth was drawn and the brandy made its appearance, he spoke. ‘You others, get out! I want to speak to Nicholas.’ Meekly, they followed their mother from the room, leaving the earl and Renzi alone in the candlelight.
Renzi’s father drew a candle to him and lit a cigar, puffing until it drew to his satisfaction. Renzi watched, not moving. His brandy remained untouched. ‘Help yourself, my son,’ his father rumbled, and pushed the humidor across the table.
‘Thank you, sir, but I’ve lost the habit of late,’ Renzi said carefully. A cigar-smoking able seaman was such a bizarre concept that, despite the circumstances, he felt a smile tug at his lips.
‘Suit yourself, then.’ He inspected the end of the cigar closely, then opened with the first salvo. ‘I mean to hear your intentions, sir. You’ve come to your senses at last and have returned – but I’ve heard no talk that you plan to take up your place here. You’re the eldest and one day Eskdale Hall goes to you – but you’ve shown no interest in the estate management, tenant rolls, income. How do you expect to run the damned place without you know how?’