Richard and Judy Bookclub - 3 Bestsellers in 1: The American Boy, The Savage Garden, The Righteous Men
I imagine, someone to deal with the day-to-day running of the business.”
“Very likely,” Carswall agreed.
“In that case it may well have been someone I ran across,” Mr Noak observed. “I spent a number of weeks there on family business immediately after the war.”
“I cannot call to mind who represented us. If I ever knew.” Carswall’s eyes slid away from Mr Noak and glided swiftly round the table. Whether from the warmth or the wine, his face shone with perspiration. “As I say, I left all that sort of thing to my cousin Wavenhoe. He may have found a local fellow.” Carswall beckoned me. “Come, Mr Shield, a glass of wine with you, sir.”
I did not believe what Carswall had told Noak for a moment. He and I drank solemnly to one another and then Mr Carswall and Sir George fell into an impassioned conversation about the ingratitude of tenants.
Mr Noak looked at Captain Ruispidge. “I wonder if you number any officers of the Forty-First among your acquaintance?”
“No, sir. I was never in North America, whereas the Forty-First spent most of their time there.”
“I see.” Noak held Captain Jack’s eyes, and when he spoke next, he raised the volume of his voice a trifle. “No matter. It is merely that it occurred to me that you might have met my son.”
“He was in the Forty-First?”
Mr Carswall broke off his remarks to Sir George in mid-sentence and stretched out his hand for the wine.
“Yes, sir.” Mr Noak picked up an orange and squeezed it gently in his hand. “At the time of his death, he was a lieutenant.”
“Lieutenant Noak,” Captain Ruispidge said. “If I meet any officers of the Forty-First, I will inquire after him. You may depend upon it, sir.”
“They will not have heard of Lieutenant Noak,” Mr Noak said, his voice harsher than ever. “He was known as Saunders.”
He began to peel the orange with small, delicate fingers, working his way over the surface of every ridge and hollow. But he was looking at Carswall all the time.
“Saunders, sir? Saunders?” Carswall had abandoned the pretence that he was not listening. “I could not help hearing – you’ll not mind my asking, I hope – but – but – the circumstance was surely a trifle unusual? The son of a prominent American citizen holding the King’s commission? At a time when our two countries were at war?”
It was a shockingly ill-bred thing to have said, and I doubt even Carswall would have done it had he not been drunk. Sir George contemplated the contents of his wine glass, while Captain Ruispidge drummed his fingers on the table edge.
“The explanation is quite simple,” Mr Noak replied, his eyes still fixed on Mr Carswall’s face. “My late wife’s name was Saunders. In the Revolutionary War, her brother fought on the Loyalist side, and when the war was over he emigrated along with many others to Upper Canada. He and his wife had no children, and some years later they offered to adopt my son as their heir on condition that he took their name.”
“A common enough practice, I’m sure,” Sir George said. “Without it, half the great names of England would have died out generations ago.”
I chanced to look at Mr Carswall. He was sitting back in his chair, his hand raised to his face, his ruddy complexion mottled with patches of dirty white.
“My son had a taste for soldiering,” Noak continued calmly, “and Mr Saunders bought him a commission. Mr Saunders had served in the Forty-First as a young man. He was present at the capture of Martinique and St Lucia.”
“Did not Wellington himself serve in the Forty-First?” Captain Ruispidge asked.
Noak bowed his acknowledgement of the question, and perhaps of the Captain’s tact as well. “For a year or so, I believe, in ’88 or ’89. My brother-in-law was proud of the connection.”
Carswall glanced from side to side of the table. He seemed to have shrunk a little inside his clothes. He was aware, I think, somewhere in his drink-sodden mind, that his curiosity had overstepped the mark. But was there more to it? He looked to me as one who has received a blow, or at least a shock.
“Forgive me, sir,” he said slowly. “Forgive me, that is, if my question just then was ill-judged.”
Noak turned to him and made a civil inclination of his head. “Not at all, my dear sir.” He fed a piece of walnut into his mouth and chewed slowly.
“And now perhaps,” Carswall went on, speaking more quickly and stumbling over his words, “now it is time for us to join the ladies. I promised them they would have cards.”
Chairs scraped back on the polished boards. Carswall swayed as he stood, and was forced to support himself on the back of his chair. I held the door for the others to pass through. Afterwards, as I walked across the hall, Captain Ruispidge lingered and fell into step with me.
“You’re a wise man, Mr Shield – you listen much and say little.”
He spoke with a smile and I smiled back at him.
“Mrs Frant tells me that you were at Cambridge.”
“Yes, sir. But I did not complete my degree.”
“One cannot always finish what one begins. Do you regret it?”
“Extremely.”
“Sometimes one begins a thing without knowing how it will end. Or, to put it another way, an action, perhaps blameless in itself, may lead to an undesirable consequence.”
I stared into his bland face, floating above the white perfection of his neckcloth and the starched points of his collar. “I’m afraid I do not understand you, sir.”
“You will not object to a word of advice, I trust?” he murmured. “I saw you on the ice, the other day – with the young ladies. I remarked a – how shall I put it? – a certain familiarity, which might be liable to misconstruction. A lady’s reputation is such a fragile thing.”
“Sir, I assure you that –”
“I’m sure I need say no more. Verbum sap, eh, verbum sap?”
Captain Ruispidge nodded affably and preceded me into the drawing room, where Mr Carswall was calling for coffee. Soon the place was a hive of activity, with the servants setting out the card tables and bringing coffee and tea; Mr Carswall talking loudly and wildly about nothing in particular; and the ladies full of animation, as though relieved not to be left to their own society any longer.
Miss Carswall beckoned me over. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You have rescued us, and rescued my father, too, I fancy.”
“I wish I could take the credit, Miss Carswall. But I did nothing.”
Her smile flashed out at me. “You are too modest, Mr Shield. You are always too modest.”
When the tables were ready, Mr Carswall clapped his hands. “We have time for a rubber, I hope? Now, four into ten won’t go, so two of us must stand down.” He crossed the room to Mr Noak’s chair and towered over the small spare American. “You will join us, I hope, sir?”
“Thank you, no. I never touch cards.”
“No. Well – just as you please, sir. I had hoped to match you with Lady Ruispidge –”
“You must not concern yourself, Papa,” Miss Carswall said. “Lady Ruispidge was telling me that she never plays with any other partner but Mrs Johnson if she can help it. They have a system, I fancy.”
In a few moments, the card players had been allocated to their tables: at one, Miss Carswall and Sir George would play against Lady Ruispidge and Mrs Johnson; at the other, Captain Ruispidge and Mrs Frant would play against Mr Carswall and Mrs Lee.
“I am vexed Papa did not consult you,”