Theo got up, opened the long window onto the back garden and stepped out. The land rose before it met the coast a mile distant, so he could not see the sea, although he could smell it on the brisk breeze. He began to walk across the lawn to where a ha-ha kept a flock of sheep safely away from the pleasure grounds. He ought to learn about sheep as well as everything else, he supposed, becoming exasperated now with his own lack of purpose. The sheep lifted their heads, stared at him with what he interpreted as scorn for his ignorance and went back to munching thistles.
He had thought that taking the plunge about marriage was the solution to his restlessness. He plucked a long seeding grass stem and began to chew it as he leaned on a hurdle at the edge of the ha-ha. It felt like an appropriately agricultural thing to be doing. He had assumed that by proposing marriage he would convince himself that he was now the sober, responsible Viscount Northam and somehow he would find himself settling down as a result. And yet he felt anything but settled.
He was quite clear in his own mind that there was nothing in his natural inclinations that would make him reluctant to wed. He liked women. He liked sex – with women. He just could not envisage life with a wife, even though he now knew her – or as much as a young lady who as clearly not in love was prepared to reveal of her true self in the course of a few formal conversations.
It was not a question of sowing his wild oats before settling down. He had sown several acres of the things up until last year and he’d no desire to go down that path again. Theo shrugged, flicked away the grass stem and walked back to the house. It was probably his birthday and the passing of time that made the future seem dull, flat and…
And stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got money, position, security, privilege, your health. A charming fiancée. Enjoy it.
Theo rounded the corner of the house, uneasily contemplating rustic pleasures, and crunched across the gravel at the front towards the stable block. He’d see how his team was settling down after the journey. He’d left his groom to hack up from London, leading two riding horses, and they’d not arrive until tomorrow, so, unless his team was recovered, or Perry had left any beasts that suited him, he was confined to exploring the grounds on foot.
‘Good day to you, sir.’ A horseman on a rangy black gelding appeared through the tall gates from the carriage drive through the park. ‘Am I addressing Lord Manners?’
‘I’m afraid not. Manners is not at home just now. I’m Lord Northam, a guest.’
‘My lord.’ The man raised his hand to his hat in a gesture that was almost a military salute. Theo realised he was, indeed, wearing uniform of sorts, although an unfamiliar one, as if someone had rigged out a naval lieutenant as a horseman.
‘You’re a Riding Officer?’ He had never met any, but he knew the Board of Customs had established them along the coast in a desperate attempt to prevent smuggling.
‘I am, my lord. Lieutenant Thomas Morefleet, newly appointed and based at Sheringham.’
‘That’s what, ten miles away, is it not?’
‘Aye, we’re thinly spread. I’ve three Light Dragoons to assist me.’
‘Have you a message for Lord Manners? I fear I cannot be exact as to when he will receive it.’
‘I’ve questions for the household, my lord. And I would like to look at the cellars.’
‘Have you a warrant?’ Theo asked automatically, even though he wanted to be co-operative. His friend would certainly not hesitate.
Perry had spoken against smuggling on the only occasion Theo could recall when they had discussed it. He’d become angry when a dinner companion had dismissed the free trade as trivial and all the government’s fault for introducing high tariffs on wines, lace and tobacco.
‘It breeds violence, leaks gold and information to the French and harms fair traders in this country,’ Perry had said, thumping on the table to emphasise his point and sending a glass of his host’s – doubtless smuggled – brandy slopping over. ‘And if all the duties were abolished I suppose you’d like to pay the higher taxes as a result?’
The mounted man looked resigned, as though he expected a refusal. ‘I have no warrant, my lord. I am surveying the countryside, seeing which landowners we may rely upon to help us fight this scourge.’ There was passion in the man’s voice, but weariness too. It was probably a thankless, if not downright dangerous, task he had.
‘Manners is no advocate for free trading. Take your horse round to the stables,’ Theo said. ‘Then come to the back door and I’ll find the housekeeper. With Manners away I suppose it is up to her, but I’ll encourage her to co-operate.’
He went in the kitchen door himself, making a business of treading loudly and clearing his throat. Domestic staff did not welcome their masters intruding on their work areas, he knew, and he had already given the women a start when he’d appeared that morning.
They were both there, along with one of the footmen who was polishing candlesticks. Mrs Bishop stood jointing a chicken, Mrs Albright bent over a large ledger at the other end of the long table and a pair of maids laden with bedlinen scurried out to the hall as he walked in. The absent staff had clearly all returned home.
‘Excuse me, but I thought I had best warn you that there’s a Customs Riding Officer about to arrive and he wants to look at the cellars, Mrs Albright.’
Their reaction was interesting, Theo thought. Mrs Bishop did not appear at all put out, but Mrs Albright dropped her pen, gave a little start of surprise and covered it by pushing ineffectually at her over-large cap.
‘I’ll tell him to take himself off and get a warrant if that is what you want, but I know Manners is opposed to smuggling, so I do not imagine you have anything to hide.’
‘Duty paid on everything in this household,’ Mrs Bishop said. ‘That’s assuming you and Edward came by your tobacco legal-like, young Terence.’
‘Aye, we did that.’ The footman looked up from a fiddly piece of moulding on the base of the candlestick. ‘The master’s set agin it and it ain’t worth losing a good place over a few pennies on baccy.’
‘Well, there you are then.’ She sliced through a joint and waved the resulting leg at Theo by way of emphasis. ‘Duty paid on the spirits, his lordship doesn’t smoke and I’m not one for Frenchie laces and silks, as you can see.’
There was a tap on the open door and Morefleet stood on the threshold, hat in hand. ‘Good day, ladies. May I come in?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Mrs Albright seemed to have recovered her equilibrium. Theo thought again that she was poised for such a young housekeeper. And attractive: dangerously so in some circumstances. She was fortunate to have Perry as an employer; he was not a man to take advantage of his female staff like many would. ‘Take this seat by the hearth. What can we do for you, sir? Lord Manners would wish us to co-operate with Excise and Customs officers.’