The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [293]
‘You have Mrs Pride, Sir,’ said Edward.
But this interference in his domestic arrangements did not suit Mr Albion at all. ‘Mrs Pride has nothing to do with it,’ he snapped.
‘I think’, Fanny interposed gently, not wanting to see her father upset, ‘that it would be better, Edward, if I remained here.’
‘There,’ Mr Albion said crossly, yet with a triumphant gleam in his eye. ‘She doesn’t even want to go.’
This was so outrageous that Martell, who was not used to being crossed himself, could scarcely remain in passive silence. ‘You will permit me to observe, Sir,’ he said quietly but firmly, ‘that a brief excursion might benefit Miss Albion.’
Had this intervention done any good? For a second or two, as Mr Albion sat, his head momentarily sunk down in his cravat, in total silence, it was impossible to tell. But then, suddenly, it became all too clear. The old man’s head shot up on its stalk so that he suddenly looked like an enraged old turkey. The neck might be withered but the startling blue eyes were blazing. ‘And you will permit me to observe, Sir,’ he shouted, ‘that my daughter’s health is none of your concern. I am not aware, Sir, that the arrangement of this house has passed into your hands. To the best of my knowledge, Sir’ – and now he raised his silver-topped stick and drove it down into the floor with all his force, to accentuate each word – ‘I – am – still – master – of – this – house!’
‘I had no doubt of it, Sir,’ answered Martell, flushing, ‘and I had no wish to offend you, Sir, but merely …’
Mr Albion, however, was no longer of a mind to listen. He was white with rage. ‘You do offend me. And you will oblige me, Sir’ – he spat out the words with venom – ‘if you make your observations in some other place. You will oblige me, Sir’ – he seemed to be struggling to rise from his chair now, grasping the arm with one hand and the stick with the other – ‘if you will leave this house!’ This last word was almost a shriek as, unable to get up, he fell back into the chair and began a gasping cough.
Fanny, now white herself and obviously fearing her father was about to have an apoplexy, gave Martell an imploring look and, with some hesitation – in case Mr Albion really was having a fit and Fanny in need of assistance – he backed into the hall, followed by Edward and Louisa. Mrs Pride, by now, had already miraculously appeared and, having inspected her employer, signalled to the visitors that it was safe to retire.
Once outside, Edward shook his head with some amusement. ‘Not a great success, I fear, as a visit.’
‘No.’ Martell was still too surprised to say much. ‘That is the first time’, he remarked wryly, ‘that I have ever been thrown out of someone’s house. But I fear for poor Miss Albion.’
‘Poor, dear Fanny,’ said Louisa. ‘I shall go back there this afternoon, Edward, with mother.’
‘Well done, Louisa,’ her brother said approvingly.
‘They say there’s bad blood in the Albion family,’ continued Louisa sadly. ‘I suppose that’s what it is. Poor Fanny.’
An hour later, after she had helped Mr Albion to his room and sat with Fanny while she wept, Mrs Pride slipped out of the house and made her way across to Mr Gilpin’s.
The weather was perfect the following morning when Edward and Louisa set out with Mr Martell. Unfortunately, because Mrs Totton was already engaged, Louisa had been unable to go back to see her cousin; but she had sent Fanny a most loving letter, which the groom had taken across that very same afternoon, so her conscience was clear.
She really felt quite cheerful, therefore, as the carriage bowled up the turnpike towards Lyndhurst where they meant to pause briefly before crossing the heath. Mr Martell was in a conversational mood. It was very agreeable, of course, to be asked questions so attentively. Although always polite, she noticed that if Martell became interested in a subject he would pursue it, at least in his own mind, with a relentless thoroughness that she had not encountered before but which, she acknowledged to herself, was proper in a man.
‘I see, Mr Martell,’ she remarked