She watched her children eat, taking pleasure from her glass of wine. David was coming home tonight. She’d bathe and change into something nice. Cook him calves’ liver with baked potatoes and red wine sauce. She wanted to impress him, encourage him to spend more time at home. She craved his company. It was boring on her own in the country.
III
Misty mornings that hold within them the promise of a beautiful day
David Claybourne arrived at Hartington House at eight. Gus, in blue gingham pajamas, was waiting in the kitchen with his mother. Storm was tucked up in bed with her toy rabbit and favorite pink cushion, dreaming of bringing her new friends home to play.
When she heard the front door open Miranda told Gus to stay in the kitchen while she went to talk to his father. They lingered in the hall for what seemed like a long time, their voices low. Gus shuffled on the banquette, having drunk his glass of milk, and felt his spirit grow heavy with anticipation. He yawned and began to scratch lines into the pine with a spoon.
Finally his parents walked into the kitchen, looking serious. His father didn’t greet him, but pulled out a chair and sat down. His mother handed her husband a glass of wine, before pouring one for herself. “Your mother tells me that you bit a child and ran away from school today.” Gus stared at his father without blinking. He was determined not to show weakness. Aragorn never showed weakness. “This has got to stop. Your behavior is unacceptable.” Gus said nothing. “As a punishment you’ll not watch any television for a week.” Gus’s mouth opened in silent protest. He was too stunned to complain. “You’ve driven us both to the end of our tether. And I warn you, Gus, that if you continue to bully other children and disrupt classes we’ll be left no choice but to put you into boarding school early. Do you understand?” Gus fought a rebellious tear as it broke ranks and balanced on his eyelashes. He nodded. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I didn’t start it,” Gus whispered. The tear fell onto his cheek, and he brushed it off with his sleeve.
“I don’t wish to hear the ins-and-outs of your playground antics. I’ve had enough. Now off to bed.”
Gus slunk down from the bench and walked slowly past his parents. Neither made a move to kiss him good night. Once in his bedroom he closed the door behind him, flung himself onto the bed and howled into the pillow.
“I should go up and see him,” said Miranda anxiously. “He’s only little.”
“No, Miranda,” David replied firmly. “This is the problem. You’re too indulgent. You didn’t send him back to school but let him watch DVDs all afternoon. No wonder he doesn’t learn. What kind of message are you sending out? Let him cry himself to sleep. He’s not going to learn if you go pandering to him all the time. Harden your heart. It’s not fair on Gus to let him grow into a monster. It’s our responsibility to teach him how to behave.”
“But I don’t know how to.” Miranda took a swig of wine and sank into a chair.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not rocket science. Now, have you started looking for help?”
“Yes,” she replied, brightening. “I’ve posted a notice in the cake shop in town. According to our neighbor, Jeremy Fitzherbert, that’s the nerve center of Hartington. He’s sending someone to see me tomorrow. A gardener called Mr. Underwood.”
“Appropriate name,” he replied, nodding his approval. David was a man who liked to see things done.
“He’s rather old.”
“I never judge a person before meeting him.”
“I suppose he’ll have loads of experience.”
“And a cook? Speaking of which, something smells good.”
“Calves’ liver,” she replied. “Your favorite.”
“You might become a domestic goddess after all.” He drained his glass and stood up. “Right, I’m going to have a bath.”
Miranda watched her husband leave the room. He hadn’t even asked her about herself, nor had he noticed the cashmere dress she was wearing. She had gone to such trouble, washed her hair and applied makeup. She began to make the wine sauce. The onions made her eyes water. She suddenly felt exhausted. The last year had been unrelenting. What with Gus being asked to leave school the previous Christmas and having to homeschool him with a tutor while they found a house, redecorated and moved, all in time for the start of the September term. She could still hear him whimpering upstairs. “Damn!” she swore as she cut her finger. “Oh, I can’t stay down here while Gus cries his eyes out in his room,” she hissed, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a Spider-Man Band-Aid. She wrapped it over the wound and set off up the stairs.