Page 44 of Infamous

They embarrassed themselves for a while longer without doing any real swimming before Eddie found herself too cold to continue; she called up to Valentine and Albert for a towel, and Albert came to the shoreline to give her one, his eyes firmly closed as she exited the water. Rose had swum over to Kitty and was kicking about on her back, listening to instruction. Nash and Dayo seemed to be racing each other; they were much farther out than the ladies, just two dots above the small, choppy waves.

Eddie shook even as she wrapped the towel around her; the day was clear but there was a strong, stiff breeze ridding the trees of their leaves and prickling her all over with gooseflesh. Juno the dog was lying flopped at Valentine’s feet; she lifted her head when Eddie joined them, but then sighed and settled it back between her enormous paws.

‘I think this will be the last good day,’ Albert said, sitting back down next to Valentine on the dock.

‘What will you do when it’s too cold for walks?’ Eddie said, rubbing at her arms, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

‘Oh, it’s never too cold for walks! I shall walk come rain or shine, sleet or snow.’

‘Age has addled you,’ Valentine said, also taking a towel and arranging it like a winter shawl. Albert just laughed.

‘You are probably right. Gosh, we are rather exposed here – I wonder how the house will weather it when winter really takes hold.’

‘It won’t,’ said Valentine. ‘I imagine the whole rotten lot of it will come down and bury us under it.’

‘I suppose when the late Mr Nicholson ran the place they would have been making it ready for the bad weather for months already. He always seemed the practical sort.’

Valentine snorted. ‘Practical?The last Mr Nicholson would have been running about absolutely blind drunk, hunting Nash with a Baker rifle, but yes – I supposesomeonewould have been giving the orders.’

‘What?’ said Eddie.

Albert looked just as startled as she felt.

‘He wasnota pleasant man in private. I suppose he didn’tactuallyhunt children, but he certainly liked to threaten it. Just before he died there was some terrible business with a maid here – an argument, an altercation between them. Nash doesn’t particularly like to speak of it, but she went over the cliffs. He was the one who found the poor woman washed up on shore.’

‘What?’ said Eddie again.

Albert frowned. ‘He’s never told me any of this.’

‘Close your mouth, Edith. You are not a fish,’ said Valentine. ‘It’s true, I’m afraid. All sorts of dreadful things have happened here – why do you think Nash is always going on about ghosts and curses? The old man tried to die here, too – his heart – but they managed to get him to shore. I think he ended up passing on in some sort of cart provided by a local. One can only imagine the depths of his horror.’

‘I don’t suppose he minded the cart,’ said Eddie. ‘He probably minded the dying more.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it. Terrible snobs, the Nicholsons. Really flagellated Nash for not making more of himself. They hated poetry, which I think is why he took to it. Nothing more embarrassing than having to tell the fellows at the club that your son is apoet. Honestly, I think almost everything he’s managed in his career is down to spite. It was almost a shame when they died – it mellowed him towards them, and they deserved none of it. I suppose Byron gets the brunt of his ire now.’

‘Yes, whyishe so down on Lord Byron?’ said Albert. ‘I have always thought the two of them could have been firm friends.’

‘Oh, well, that’s no mystery. They were at Harrow at the same time, as you know, and I believe they were friendly enough. I don’t think they saw much of each other after school. Nash was just working himself up to publish when Byron put outPilgrimageand the whole country went mad for him. Nash’s first poem met quite an underwhelming reception – undeserved, in my opinion – and the rest, as they say, is history. They are far too similar in temperament and ambition to have ever been true friends. Irreconcilable similarities. I hear Byron has precious few friends anyhow – even Shelley he callsthesnakeand maligns in select company.’

‘Goodness,’ said Albert.

‘Fascinating,’ breathed Eddie. She had been hanging on Valentine’s every word, her eyes wide; all of her energy was going into staying warm, which left absolutely no reserves for trying to appear worldly and unimpressed by stories of infighting in the ranks of the literary elite.

‘Oh dear. Obviously, I have said too much, as Eddie’s brain has imploded. You must both be far more discreet than I. Gin?’

Valentine was holding up a flask; Albert shook his head, but Eddie took a nip to stave off the cold. Nash was coming out of the lake, not at all shy about the fact that he was only wearing a shirt down to his knees, and that it was not particularly opaque; Eddie stared fixedly at a pebble the shape of France near her foot as he came to claim a towel and then wrapped it haphazardly around himself like a toga.

‘Refreshing, is it not? Warms the blood! Arm-wrestles the mind into submission! Is that gin?’

He took a deep pull from Valentine’s flask and sighed in a very satisfied fashion.

‘You ought to get out of those wet clothes, Edie – you’ll freeze like that.’

Eddie just blushed and pulled her blanket a little tighter around her, not wanting to begin the arduous task of traipsing back into the woods and reclaiming her dress. Juno sat up and gave an odd little grunting bark, her eyes fixed on the water; Eddie followed her gaze, scanning for the ladies’ impromptu swimming lesson.

‘I can only see Kitty and Liza there, and Dayo farther out. Where’s Rose?’

Albert leaned forwards, squinting. ‘She can’t be far away .?.?. ah, yes. There she is. She’s by herself, closer in.’