‘I realise that.’ She poured him some coffee from the pot in front of her. They were the two in the family who preferred something stronger at breakfast than tea. Even though she was ten years younger, she was most like him in nature. If she hadn’t been a girl, she would’ve cut her own path through life, likely following her passion for music. She was a talented amateur composer and had a fine singing voice. ‘But Society is an idiot who cares only for appearances. We all play the game– apart from you, it would seem.’
Felicity, who was usually the picture of health with her milkmaid complexion and chestnut locks, scowled at him from across the table. He was disturbed to see that she had blue shadows under her eyes and faint lines bracketed her mouth. She was typically a bouncing ball of energy but now she was deflated by grief. ‘Then there was that Frenchman– everyone was talking about that.’
No one was supposed to know about his and Dora’s involvement in the Elgin marble investigation, which had taken them into the murky world of French espionage. ‘Talking about what, Fee?’ He accepted a plate of bacon and eggs from an attentive footman.
‘That he nearly blew you up at Berwick– some ghastly enemy spy who didn’t stop at killing women and children– then you saved the lives of hundreds of casualties.’
His mother silently patted his hand.
‘Hardly hundreds,’ said Jacob. The incident was public knowledge, so he could talk about that. ‘I merely helped with a few of the injured.’
Felicity leaned her cheek against her hand in an approximation of the pose of a lovelorn lass and sighed. ‘Heroic Dr Sandys.’ She dropped the pose. ‘They gossiped about you for weeks. My friends have been badgering me to snip a lock of your hair for them– you’ll be quite bald by the time I finish. I’m sick of hearing how brave you are.’
William cleared his throat. ‘Though we’re all proud, naturally.’
That did not seem to be the consensus.
‘I apologise for my ill luck in being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Fee,’ said Jacob, ‘but I could hardly walk away to leave injured men bleeding out, could I, in order to escape notice?’
‘There are ladies present,’ rumbled Arthur, disapproving of the mention of bloodshed at breakfast.
Jacob bit back the childish urge to say, ‘she started it’. Coming home dug up some of his worst character traits.
‘If you could be less remarkable in future.’ Felicity gave him a sardonic smile.
He tapped his forehead. ‘Yes, miss. I’ll make sure I walk by on the other side next time.’ He turned to his mother who had been listening with a pained expression. ‘I’m sorry if news of my actions distressed you, Mama.’
‘Distressed? Yes– but only because my son’s life was in danger again. Surprised? No. We always knew you would have to go your own way, Jacob.’ Her hand shook as she raised her cup to her lips. ‘You’ve got so much of your father in you. He could be mule-headed too.’
He wondered what his father had been like at his age. Starting a family relatively late in life, the viscount had always seemed old to Jacob. He regretted that he had lost the opportunity to ask his father about what he had done before settling down, the adventures that Jacob would never now hear about. ‘Tell me about his last illness. What did the doctors say?’
‘There was nothing anyone could do.’ As his mother recounted the recent weeks of heart pains and breathlessness, Jacob’s eyes travelled down the table to his eldest brother. Arthur was looking at him, not with the tolerant affection he used to, but more as a problem he now needed to solve.
* * *
‘Shall we walk?’ asked Arthur after breakfast, including William and Jacob in the invitation.
Felicity jumped up. ‘I’ll grab my shawl. I’m gasping for some fresh air.’
‘Not this time, minx,’ said Arthur quickly. ‘We’ve business to discuss and, er, Diana said she needed help with the flowers for the funeral.’
His wife blinked. ‘I did? Oh, yes, I did– and Felicity dear, your taste for such things is impeccable. I noticed how well you matched your bonnet trims this season. We’ll go around the garden and choose the colours. White and purple?’
That was news to the rest of the family, but Felicity stood a little taller for the approbation. ‘Then, of course, I’ll help. I know where the best lilies grow.’
The new viscountess was going to be a success, Jacob would wager on it.
The brothers by common consent walked out the same way Jacob had entered the house, skirted the stables and headed for the cliff path. This had been their favourite haunt as children. There was a track down to the sands, though they had been forbidden to go onto the estuary without a local guide. The sea came in faster than a galloping horse and every year people drowned being surprised too far from shore. It didn’t mean three spirited boys obeyed, rather that they kept an eye on the timetable for the tides and hoped no one betrayed them to their parents.
‘I wonder if Old Mary-Lou still digs for cockles down there,’ said William, standing on the bluff, admiring the glittering estuary. A thin silvering of water showed that the sands had entered the treacherous time when no sensible person ventured onto them.
‘I remember being terrified of her. She must be a hundred if she’s still with us,’ said Jacob, recalling the fearsome old lady who wore breeches like a man and was never spotted without her pipe clamped between her teeth. Dora would enjoy her sharp tongue, and Wordsworth would possibly be moved to write a poem about her. The poet loved memorialising encounters with rural originals.
‘I can report that she is alive and kicking– and draws a pension every week from the steward which she collects in person.’ Arthur folded his arms. ‘So, Jacob.’
William glanced awkwardly at Jacob. He clearly knew something was afoot, but he hated family rows.
Jacob got in with his question first before whatever bee in his bonnet buzzed out of Arthur’s mouth. ‘So why didn’t you send for me when you could have easily found out where I was? I was only twenty miles away in a place to which it was well known I was heading– not the other end of the country. You could have left a message at Ambleside– or with a neighbour.’
