So only Oscar came up from the gatehouse, dressed in bland and formal clothing, sitting with his hands clenched on either side of his plate and looking as if he would rather be anywhere but where he was. Captain Everard turned on all the charm that he had learned in the officers’ mess and engaged the young man in lively conversation all evening, with Theodore and Doctor Netherfield playing their parts too. Adelia was impressed at how convincing they were, although she would have kicked Percy if her legs were only long enough to reach under him the table. His face was prone to slip from polite smiles to a dark glowering expression from time to time.
The Countess was there, picking at her food in sullen silence, and Lady Agnes was seated with just a little more distance than usual between them. Lady Agnes kept her eyes on Captain Everard, and her face was softer than it had been for a long time.
It was awkward, but things could have been worse.
And then they got worse.
Alcohol and simmering tensions were never going to be the best combination, Adelia thought with a sinking feeling. As the meal dragged on, and people decided to partake more of wine and sherry than of sensible solid food, noses got redder and even Oscar was finally drawn out of his shell by the constant attentions of Captain Everard in particular. Unfortunately, the usually reasonable captain had also had a little too much to drink and perhaps the stress of the past few days was telling on him, because he was not as careful in his conversation as he ought to have been.
“So you were a bright boy at school, weren’t you?” Captain Everard said to Oscar suddenly.
“Average, sir.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard!”
“Who has said something, sir? I am not sure I understand you,” Oscar replied. Adelia frowned at the captain, trying to warn him that Oscar would surely realise he was the object of private speculation if he carried on in that vein.
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about, my dear fellow. Your old uncle Lord Buckshaw was singing your praises, that’s all.”
“Was he?”
Percy harrumphed from behind his bowl of blancmange. “I was telling people how well you’d done at school, that’s all.”
“School was years ago,” Oscar said.
“And what have you done with yourself since?” Captain Everard said. “Oh I say – that has come out awfully badly – I did not mean it to sound quite so accusatory, you know! I simply wish to know, um, ah...”
Oscar’s face had clouded over. “I quite understand you, sir. Since then, I have attended to family duties as any good son should.”
Adelia pretended not to, but she was listening closely. Was that a barbed comment? Did he mean something by that?
Percy leaned forward. “You don’t really have any, you know. I keep meaning to have this little talk with you. You really don’t have to feel so tied to this place. Now’s your chance to leave and make your mark on the world!”
“He could come travelling with you,” Doctor Netherfield suggested, and Percy choked a little.
“What a wonderful idea,” The Countess said suddenly, reminding everyone that her hearing and sight was perfectly undimmed by age, at least tonight. “I very much support that idea. What do you think, Oscar dear?”
Adelia was shocked by the look of pure hatred that crawled over Oscar’s face. Suddenly she realised that Oscar knew part of the family’s secrets, but there was no way of knowing which parts he knew and which he could only guess at.
But he certainly understood that The Countess was the keeper of all of deepest secrets. The things that he did not know.
And The Countess, for all her insistence that she was protecting the family, had told Oscar nothing.
The Countess was still smiling at Oscar and there was a light in her eyes that Adelia couldn’t quite fathom. Up until this point, Adelia would have sworn that The Countess was acting out of love for Oscar; that she knew what he had done and was protecting him.
It became clear to Adelia now that The Countess didn’t give a fig for Oscar, or Percy, or any one of them. Only the family name mattered. The individuals came and went. She didn’t care that Oscar could have tried to kill Felicia – did she know? If she did, it wouldn’t mean anything to her because Felicia had not produced an heir, so The Countess would certainly support Percy moving on to find a better wife. Did The Countess care about the deaths of the house steward and the valet? Of course not.
Would she care, however, that an attempt had been made on Percy’s own life?
Adelia gripped her fork tightly. Perhaps The Countess did not believe Oscar had any part in any of this. It could be possible that she still believed that Felicia was guilty. Her love for her family’s name and honour blinded her to any shortcomings – and she could not see how much truly Oscar detested her. She loved him only as a member of the family – and he hated her for what he thought she was concealing.
Adelia forced her attention to return to the conversation. Oscar was muttering an excuse about why he could not travel with Percy, citing his need to be with his mother who was increasingly ill, a fact which everyone else disputed. The Countess continued to press him, urging him to spread his wings “under the excellent tutelage of your uncle” and Oscar continued to resist it.
In fact, his stubborn refusal to agree with the ancient matriarch was clearly surprising her, and causing her some annoyance. She
