‘So have you anything to say, Deakin? I’ve nothing else to say to you, now that I’ve got it off my chest about the girl. She has none of your qualities and very few of mine.’
He was frowning and shaking his head as if he didn’t understand, but she was pleased when he began to heave himself up from the ground because she would be able to say that he was attacking her and that she’d shot him in self-defence. But on the other hand, she considered, when the resounding crack as she pulled the trigger almost pulled the gun out of her hands, it didn’t really matter, as no one was ever likely to find him.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The following weekend Delia, Robin and Jenny were, in their separate ways, in a great state of anticipation over their visit to Derbyshire. It wasn’t a county that Delia knew at all. Jenny said she had visited Buxton many years before as a student teacher but didn’t know either Sheffield or Derby, except for what she had read.
‘I understand that there are many grand houses there,’ she said. ‘I’m really looking forward to the visit.’
Robin was excited about seeing Arthur Crawshaw again, he told Giles as they waited for the carriage to arrive at the lodging house. ‘He’s very amusing and clever,’ he said. ‘He taught me to play cards.’
Giles raised an eyebrow. ‘Just what every young man needs to know.’ He wondered if it was something the estimable gentleman had done solely for the boy’s entertainment, or to give himself a card partner when there was no one else available.
But his original assessment of the man had changed. Crawshaw had befriended Delia when there had been no one else, and had continued to give a faithful though intermittent friendship to a woman who could give nothing in return but the same. Neither of them, he surmised, expected anything more.
The journey in the old brougham was rocky and long, but they had set off at seven, collecting Jenny on the way and expecting to arrive in Derbyshire just after midday. Robin had been looking eagerly from the carriage windows and asking if they thought Arthur Crawshaw might live in a castle.
No one knew, as Arthur hadn’t said, but the fact that he had told Delia there was a ballroom and about twenty bedrooms indicated that it was quite large.
They saw it as they turned through wide metal gates and travelled along a drive through the middle of meadows where sheep grazed and spring lambs skipped, much to Robin’s joy. Ahead of them stood a gatehouse and an archway through which they drove to see a stone-built three-storey gabled building with two-storey wings on either side.
They were all silent as they approached, and then Delia smiled as Giles hummed in a deep tenor ‘I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls’. ‘Sixteenth century I’d hazard a guess,’ he murmured, and Jenny nodded in agreement. Delia didn’t know, but she sensed Jenny’s heightened expectation by her bright eyes and bated breath.
‘Do you think there might be a ghost?’ Robin whispered, and Delia squeezed his hand and whispered back, ‘Bound to be, but it will be friendly.’
Arthur was there at the door to welcome them; the driver took down their luggage, though Giles thanked him and said he would carry his violin case. He rarely let anyone else handle it.
‘How wonderful to see you,’ Arthur enthused. ‘Welcome to Holme Manor. But Delia, where is that skinny young lad of yours? I asked especially that you bring him and you’ve brought some other grown-up young fellow instead.’
Robin looked up open-mouthed. ‘No, it’s me!’ he said. ‘Don’t you recognize me?’ He puffed himself up. ‘I’ve grown and my name is Robin now,’ he explained. ‘I did away with Jack. Do you remember …’ He took up a stance and concentrated. ‘Deny thy father and, erm – What’s in a name – that which we call …’ He hesitated. ‘I’ve forgotten,’ he confessed as he mixed up his quotations.
Arthur broke into a laugh and helped him out. ‘Deny thy father and refuse thy name,’ he said, and held out his hand to shake Robin’s. ‘How good it is to see you again, my dear boy. Introduce me, won’t you, to your fine friends.’
‘Oh, but you know them.’ Robin grinned. ‘My mother, Miss Delia Delamour, Miss Jenny Robinson and Mr Giles Dawson. Say how-de-do to Mr Arthur Crawshaw, the celebrated Shakespearean and Dickensian orator!’
To his delight, Delia and Jenny continued with the charade and dropped sweeping curtsies, and Giles gave a deep bow which Crawshaw returned.
‘Come along in, come along,’ Crawshaw said good-heartedly. ‘I’m so very pleased to see you. We decided on a cold collation for luncheon, but first you must see your rooms and freshen up and then I’ll introduce you to Mother.’
Two maids were waiting in the wide timber-clad hall to take them up the curved staircase to their separate rooms, all of which were huge but had fires blazing in the grates to take off the chill; Robin was given a room adjoining his mother’s which overlooked the front lawns.
They found a bathroom along the landing and took it in turns to wash their hands. Robin was the first to make his way downstairs to where Arthur Crawshaw was waiting in a room off the hall; sitting in a chair by the fire was an elderly lady dressed in a gown of deep purple with a rope of pearls round her neck.
‘Mother,’ Arthur Crawshaw said, ‘this is the estimable young man of whom I have spoken. Since our last meeting he has changed his name, so may I introduce Master Robin Delamour?’
Robin went towards her; he felt suddenly shy. He gave a short bow and held out his hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs Crawshaw,’ he said.
She gave a
