The Butterfly Box(154)

‘Well, I know I haven’t been here before,’ Torquil said carefully, ‘because if I had I simply wouldn’t have left.’

Toby raised his glass with a chuckle. ‘Well said, Torquil,’ he applauded. ‘Welcome to the family.’ They all raised their glasses.

Only Arthur hesitated before he too lifted his to toast their guest with the others. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something not quite right about Torquil. He was altogether too perfect.

The following day Torquil and Federica were invited to lunch at Pickthistle Manor to meet the Applebys. Ingrid approved of Federica’s choice immediately because he didn’t wince at the sight of the wounded stoat which limped nonchalantly across the hall and he patted the dogs with enthusiasm.

Inigo had locked himself in his study asking to be disturbed only under the unlikely circumstances of a house fire, so Ingrid apologized on his behalf and led their guest into the large sitting room where an open fire danced in the chimney beneath a wistful portrait of Violet, Ingrid’s mother, and a dusty mantelpiece clustered with curiosities.

Nuno shook the young man’s hand and sniffed at him warily while Flester bounded over excitedly and Molly played hard to get, languishing on the sofa, pretending not to notice him. Sam wandered in grimly and kissed Federica on her cheek before nodding to Torquil with an arrogance that ill-suited him. Torquil disguised his aversion behind a friendly smile and nodded back affably before turning away and talking to Flester.



Sam wasn’t fooled. He loathed him immediately.

‘I don’t trust him,’ he hissed to Nuno. ‘Fle’s too smooth. There’s a portrait of him with all his imperfections hidden away in some attic somewhere, I’m

telling you.’

‘Ah, a Dorian Grey, perhaps. He’s certainly beautiful,’ Nuno replied as he watched Ingrid, Hester and Molly turn pink under the brilliance of Torquil’s physical perfection.

‘God, they’re such simpletons,’ Sam scorned. ‘Why is it that women are so dazzled by looks? It’s pathetic.’

Nuno scrutinized his grandson and sniffed knowingly. ‘Are you perhaps not a trifle jealous, dear boy?’

Sam shook his head and put his hands in his pockets. ‘Certainly not. She’s like a sister, I feel protective,’ he insisted, smarting at the sight of Federica basking in Torquil’s reflected glory.

‘Ah,’ sighed Nuno with a smile. “‘O! beware, my lord, of jealousy, It is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.’”

‘Shakespeare’s Othello,’ said Sam flatly. ‘But I assure you, Nuno, I don’t covet Fede for myself. I’m just loath to see her falling into the wrong hands.’

‘You can’t live people’s lives for them, dear boy, they have to suffer their own mistakes and learn. We all do.’

‘I know, but it’s hard to stand back and watch it happen,’ he admitted



bleakly.



‘Nothing in the world would convince Federica today that Torquil is not all that he seems - if, indeed, he does deceive. Keep your thoughts to yourself. Nothing will come of honesty but bitterness.’

Sam sat through lunch watching Torquil holding forth while the women in the family laughed in admiration at every lame joke he delivered. Once or twice Torquil locked eyes with his aggressor, but it was he who turned away first.

He knows I can see straight through him, Sam thought to himself, the fool\ Federica noticed Sam’s silence and felt her enthusiasm dissipate as if his muted disapproval were sucking her energies dry. After lunch they all decided to go for a walk.



‘Are you coming with us, Sam?’ Federica asked hopefully.

But Sam shook his head. ‘I’ve got things to do,’ he replied. Better things to do than listen to Torquil’s oafish jokes, he thought sourly, and left the room for Nuno’s study.



Nuno’s study had the benefit of being situated on a corner of the house. One

half looked out onto the garden, the other onto the front. Sam stood by the window watching Torquil play with the dogs, who mobbed around on the grass in front of Molly, Hester and Ingrid.

‘I adore dogs, Ingrid,’ Torquil was saying, patting their soft heads. These two are really special.’

‘Dog lovers are good people,’ she replied, ‘you can always be certain of a person’s true nature if he likes dogs.’ She wrapped her long cardigan about her body. ‘If you’re going to walk on the cliffs, I suggest you borrow a coat, Torquil.’

‘No thank you, I have one in the car, I’ll just go and get it,’ he said, leaving the girls to chat among themselves. Sam watched him disappear through the archway and out to where his car was parked on the gravel. He wandered over to the other window. Torquil stalked across the driveway to his Porsche, followed eagerly by Trotsky and Amadeus who sniffed and sprung about his feet. To Sam’s surprise Torquil turned on them with impatience.