Page 67 of The Consolation Prize

When she tried to discuss the matter with Armand as they rode over to Anninghurst that evening, he seemed disposed to treat it lightly. “Yes, Fulcher mentioned something about it before he set off on his travels. I’m sure Rose will soon recover,” he said dismissively. “Roger’s a young fool. He should have told my father years ago he did not want to be a cleric. Then he’d have a bit more finesse with wenches, than to try and wrestle them into his arms like that.”

“Not everyone might find it easy as you to stand up to a strong personality like Sir Hugo’s,” Una pointed out.

“I told my father the Church wasn’t for me before I was twelve,” he retorted, drawing in his rein. “Second sons are usually dedicated to the Church. Stop here,” he said, reaching for her horse’s bridle.

She drew in closer. “What is it? What are we looking at?”

He pointed to an impressive grey stone property surrounded by its own moat in the distance. It had castellated walls and big square mullioned windows. “Anninghurst,” he said shortly. “Where I was raised.”

“It’s a very impressive size,” Una commented, though to her eye Lynwode was far prettier. The night was fine and mild, and they could see for miles as they rested the horses, taking in the view. “It’s lovely countryside around here. I take it the surrounding lands are attached to the estate?”

Armand nodded. “That there is its own private chapel,” he said pointing to the left. “I’m sure you will get the official tour of the place when we arrive.”

He spoke nothing but the truth, and Una was duly led on an hour-long exploration of Anninghurst’s every nook and cranny by both Muriel and Henry, who were keen to point out its every superiority to their new sister-in-law. Una professed deep admiration for its every detail, indeed, they would not move on into the next room until she had done so. Armand declined the offer to reacquaint himself and remained in the great hall with his father and a sheepish looking Roger.

By the time Una was brought back to them, Anne and her husband Matthew Buxton had also arrived for supper. Anne took great pains to greet her warmly, showing their prior acquaintanceship. Una could not help but respond with a smile when her sister-in-law took both her hands and kissed her cheek.

“Matthew is most keen to meet you, Una,” she said, introducing her to the fair, solid man stood at her side. “For I told him how good you were with our children.”

Una shook hands with Anne’s husband, and they were led to the table where a rather spartan supper of cold mutton awaited them.

“You will have need of a second supper when you return home,” Anne murmured behind her hand, as they took their places at the long table. “Matthew always prepares himself by lining his own stomach before we even leave.”

Una schooled her features not to betray a reaction to this, for Muriel was already addressing her.

“You will see, my dear Una,” she said with a wintry smile, “that we do not permit our servants to dine with us here at Anninghurst. In my opinion it encourages waste and overfamiliarity between the ranks.”

Una saw that Roger gave a violent start at his sister-in-law’s words and he sent her an accusing look. Surely, he did not think she had been telling tales at supper, she thought, and sent him a reassuring smile. Unfortunately, as Roger was now staring at his plate, he could not receive her unspoken message.

“We prefer to run our house along more traditional lines,” Armand said loudly, reaching for Una’s hand and kissing it. “The old ways are good enough for us.” He met her eyes and smiled.

Una saw his father Sir Hugo’s eyes widen at this sentiment and Muriel turned quite puce. “I assure you that both Henry and I consider ourselves custodians of tradition here at Anninghurst,” she replied quickly.

“Quite so, my dear,” Henry echoed. “Armand mistook your sentiment entirely.”

Sir Hugo interrupted at this point. “Armand speaks nothing but the truth,” he said heavily. “In my day, the household always ate their supper together in the great hall, one and all.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table, only broken when Anne commented how disappointed she was that Armand was not dressed in his court raiment this evening, for she had so much been looking forward to seeing it. Even Una could tell he was being ribbed by his sister, and once again realized that the outfit she had made him must not be suited for anything outside of a royal residence.

“No,” Armand answered mildly, lowering his wine goblet. “For Una has not yet made me a second suit. The first was her wedding gift to me.” He covered her hand with his and lightly squeezed her fingers. “I hope she will make me another very soon.” He looked at her thoughtfully over the brim. “Perhaps blue and white next time to match the family crest.

She had scarcely had chance to recover from the idea that he might welcome another outfit, than Muriel was speaking to her again, this time with much more enthusiasm. She very much approved of the fact that Una had some practical skill and believed it must be very economical to make your own clothes. Tailors she opined, charged such a shocking amount, it was little more than robbery!

The rest of the evening passed without much incident.

Henry and Muriel de Bussell were doubtless an eccentric couple, but to Una they seemed to exist in a state of deep accord. Their chief interests in life seemed to be the same; namely Anninghurst, and schemes of how to save money. Muriel’s gown again was rather shabby and old-fashioned, but she carried herself with assurance and seemed to accord her husband the utmost respect and deference.

Roger cheered up after the eating was done, no doubt assured that his conduct that morning was not about to be brought up. He even managed to contribute some talk about horses for his own was old and ready to be put out to pasture. Armand remarked that one of his tenant farmers had several mounts for sale, which might interest his brother.

Their father, Sir Hugo, cut in at this point, extremely surprised that Armand was familiarizing himself with the running of his estate. “You have visited your farms, Armand? I had feared you would be in a frenzy to return to your tournaments. That is your usual habit after all. Generally, you are itching to get away from us after you have been here a few days.”

“No doubt,” Armand returned easily. “I will in good time. There are still some matters to be sorted about the smooth running of the place.”

Una looked at him fleetingly, and then, realizing her father-in-law’s eyes were upon her, hurriedly turned back to Anne to resume their conversation.

When they came to take their leave, Sir Hugo drew her to one side. “I’m pleased,” he said abruptly. “Armand seems to be finally waking up to his responsibilities. I take it we have you to thank for that.”

Una gazed back at him. “I am not—”