Читать книгу Andrew Taylor 2-Book Collection: The American Boy, The Scent of Death - Andrew Taylor, Andrew Taylor - Страница 49

Five of us sat down to dinner – Mr Carswall, Miss Carswall, Mrs Frant, an elderly lady named Mrs Lee, and myself. Mrs Lee was the aunt of a local clergyman, and I understood she was paying a long visit to Monkshill-park. There was little conversation apart from that which emanated from Mr Carswall himself. He ate sparingly, but drank deeply, working his way through glass after glass of claret.

“I took it upon myself to investigate the state of Charlie’s Latinity,” he announced. “The Rector called the other morning, and I asked him to interrogate the boy on his knowledge of the Eton Latin Grammar. He was shocked – shocked, Mr Shield – when he plumbed the depths of the lad’s ignorance. Why, he could not even distinguish between a gerund and a gerundive. What does Mr Bransby teach them?”

“He has not had much opportunity of teaching Charlie anything, sir. Nor has any of us. Charlie attended the school for less than a term, and for much of it he was absent.”

Mrs Frant turned her face away.

“It has not been an easy time for him,” put in Miss Carswall.

Carswall shot his daughter a glance. “True enough, my dear,” he rumbled. “Still, that don’t alter the case. The boy wants instruction, and I daresay Edgar Allan does too. You had better stay for the rest of their holidays, Shield, and read with them in the mornings.”

I bowed.

“If the arrangement is quite convenient for Mr Shield?” Mrs Frant said, looking at me.

“Of course it is,” Carswall said. “Mr Bransby raised no objection when I put it to him, so why should he? Neither of them will be the loser.”

“And I’m sure Mr Shield will make himself useful in other ways,” Miss Carswall said. “He will be quite an addition to our little society. You like a game of chess in the evening, do you not, Papa, and I’m sure he can make a fourth at whist. If the weather is bad, one hardly ever sees anyone in the country, especially in winter.”

“People did not mind the weather when I was a boy,” Carswall grumbled. “We were more sociable then.”

“Why, Papa, we are sociable still. Or we try to be. Did not the Rector ride over the other day? And in the rain!”

The meal continued to its weary end. There was some hesitation about which lady should give the signal to withdraw. In the end, Miss Carswall was the first to rise. I held open the door for them. Mrs Lee and Mrs Frant hurried past, their faces averted, but Miss Carswall smiled up at me. The cloth was removed. Carswall beckoned me back to my seat and pushed the decanter towards me.

“You will not dine with us every night,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Mind you, Flora may have a point. Do you play chess or piquet? Whist?”

“Indifferently, I’m afraid.”

“No matter. You play – that is the main thing.” Carswall stared into his glass. “We exchange few visits in this part of the country.”

We drank in silence. A clock ticked. Whereas Mr Rowsell drank wine because he enjoyed it and its effects, Mr Carswall drank it as if it were his bounden duty.

“I did not wish to alarm the ladies at dinner,” he said after a while, “but this afternoon I received intelligence that there is a band of housebreakers in the vicinity. We must be on our guard. So it is no bad thing to have another man in the house, particularly a former soldier.”

The old man gnawed his lower lip for a moment and then bade me ring the bell. When the butler came, Mr Carswall ordered him to lock up with particular care. Then, to my relief, he gave me permission to go. I left him to his wine and his fire and went to the drawing room in search of tea. Only Miss Carswall and Mrs Lee were there, one on either side of the fire. Mrs Lee was asleep. Miss Carswall’s face was uncharacteristically sad, though she looked up with a smile when I entered and patted the sofa beside her.

“Sit down and have some tea, Mr Shield. I cannot tell you how pleased Sophie and I are to see you. Papa becomes quite bearish without masculine company. I am sure you will do an admirable job of drawing his fire. Isn’t that how you military men put it?”

I smiled back and said I would do my best. As I spoke, I glanced in the direction of Mrs Lee.

“You must not mind her,” Miss Carswall murmured. “Mrs Lee is very short-sighted and rather deaf: in other words, one could not ask for a better chaperone.”

“She is a near neighbour?”

“No. In fact, I had not met her before she came here on Tuesday. She seems most amiable, though, and I will not hear a word against her. It appears that all her relations are clergymen, which constitutes her principal charm in Papa’s eyes.”

I burst out laughing.

“But it is true,” she went on. “Papa feels that neither Sophie nor I is quite the thing, albeit for different reasons. He is anxious that we should be accepted in the neighbourhood, that we should take our proper position in society. Hence Mrs Lee. She has such a store of respectability that she cannot help but shed her surplus on those around her. She is a perfect paragon in every way, and one of her nephews was acquainted with Sir George Ruispidge when they were up at Oxford.” Her eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “Believe me, Mr Shield, there can be no higher recommendation.”

“I’m afraid I do not know of the gentleman.”

“What? How can this be? Sir George Ruispidge is our very own none-such. He lives nearby at Clearland-court. They say his rent-roll brings in six or seven thousand a year.” She looked down at her lap but I saw the smile on her face. “And the dear man has coal mines besides, as well as a charming house in Cavendish-square and a seat in Parliament. His family have been here for generations – they know everybody, go everywhere. So you will understand that we find him a most agreeable neighbour.” She raised her head just in time to catch me with an answering smile. “And the general opinion among the ladies is that he is a very handsome man, too.”

“And what is your view, Miss Carswall?”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “It would not be seemly for me to disagree with an opinion held so firmly by the majority of my sex, Mr Shield. But you may soon be able to judge for yourself. We may see the Ruispidges in church on Christmas Day. Certainly my father hopes so. He has a very pressing reason for wishing it.”

“And may I ask what that is?”

For an instant the skin tightened over the bones of Miss Carswall’s face. “Why, he hopes that Sir George will make an offer for me.”