A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting(16)

‘How can that be, in only a few weeks?’ Hinsley wondered, helping himself to more coffee.

‘How indeed,’ James said grimly. ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut your stay short, Harry. It appears I’m needed in London after all.’

Lord Radcliffe felt a certain degree of trepidation when he walked into the de Lacy family residence upon Grosvenor Square to find it shrouded in near darkness and funereal silence, the curtains at each window drawn against the bright sunshine. He was greeted, as was usual, by Pattson, who had run the house for as long as Radcliffe could remember and had been as much a fixture in his childhood as his parents. Radcliffe gripped his arm in firm welcome. There was an expression of distinct relief on the man’s face.

‘What is it this time, Pattson?’ he asked apprehensively.

‘A migraine, I believe is what it is called, my lord,’ Pattson responded, so quietly he barely moved his lips.

‘Oh Lord, French, is it? Where did she hear of it?’ An international malady was always worse.

‘I gather,’ Pattson said carefully, ‘that the diagnosis came by way of Lady Jersey, who has suffered similarly.’

‘I see. And is it … serious?’ Lord Radcliffe queried. Past experience told him that it was best to pay heed to such ailments, as an overly jocular view could cause irreparable offence.

‘In lower circles, I think it is more commonly known as a headache,’ was the delicate response. ‘It has come on rather quickly – in fact, directly after Lady Jersey’s visit.’

Pattson’s face was utterly expressionless. Radcliffe repressed a smile and entered the drawing room quietly. It was even darker in this room, so it took a moment before he was able to make out the shape of his mother, lying in dramatic repose across the chaise longue.

‘Good morning, Mother,’ he called softly into the room, taking his volume cue from Pattson.

The Dowager Countess sat bolt upright. ‘James?! Is that you? Oh, how wonderful.’ She sprang energetically up from her seat.

‘I can’t see a thing!’ she said indignantly, before calling, ‘Pattson! Pattson! I can’t see a thing, please open the curtains, it’s a veritable morgue in here.’

In her aggrieved state, she did not seem to recall that it was her own instruction that had made it so, but Pattson said not a word – pulling the curtains aside in a few quick movements and flooding the room with light. Lady Radcliffe was en déshabillé, her hair only loosely dressed and her grey gown simple. She tripped lightly towards her eldest son, arms outstretched, and folded him into a warm embrace.

‘James, my darling, it is wonderful to see you.’ She stepped back, holding his hands and drinking him in.

‘And you,’ he smiled, clasping her hands warmly. ‘How have you been? I hear from Pattson that you have been quite under the weather.’

‘Oh, pish,’ she dismissed this swiftly. Pattson, over her shoulder, looked mildly pained. ‘You know I am never knocked down for long.’

This was true. It occasionally bordered on the miraculous the way Lady Radcliffe’s maladies vanished just in time for the social occasions she was most looking forward to.

‘But why are you here, James? I thought you had determined to stay at Radcliffe Hall for the foreseeable.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I had – but your letters have been quite compelling reading. You must tell me the whole of Miss Talbot and Archie.’

If he had expected a live rendition of her dramatic letter, he was to be disappointed.

‘Oh, please, James, you don’t need to say a thing,’ she exclaimed, putting her hands to her cheeks in good-humoured faux embarrassment. ‘I know I’ve been a goose!’

‘A goose …’ he repeated. It was mildly irritating, he could own, to have travelled so swiftly so far a distance, but it certainly made matters less taxing.

‘Yes, I own I thought Miss Talbot to be a fortune-hunter – and most unsuitable for Archie besides – but we really have nothing to be worried for.’

‘That is a relief,’ he said, wondering how quickly he could be ready to depart again for Devonshire.

‘I know, I know. I can’t believe I had misjudged her so utterly. She’s the most wonderful creature.’

‘Mmm,’ he said absently. His greys would need to rest, which might delay him – then his mind caught up with his mother’s words.

‘Mama – do you mean to tell me that Archie and this Miss Talbot are still acquainted?’

‘Of course they are! Why, she and her sister are now quite frequent visitors to the house. Miss Cecily and Amelia both attended the Bath Seminary, you know, and they are closely acquainted with the Dorsetshire Linfields. I own, I had utterly misjudged them – you know how I worry about all my children, that you might be victim to a bad sort due to our wealth.’

Radcliffe did know. In her letters, his mother had used the more damning phrase ‘havey-cavey jade’.

‘I was most wrong; Miss Talbot is in fact the kindest young lady. Why, she was most solicitous when I had my fainting spells last week and, indeed, quite cured them with a remedy from Dorsetshire.’

‘Did she?’ he murmured thoughtfully, reclining into his chair.

‘Yes, and I really do feel a person’s attitude to the health of others is most revealing of their character, don’t you agree?’