‘By all means,’ Lady Swinburn said.
‘One would worry at the thought of him all alone while we enjoy ourselves,’ Mrs Gilpin added.
‘Quite,’ Mrs Finch said from her seat on Perry’s left hand.
Flynn went out and returned a minute later with Theo.
‘I do apologise,’ he said, his smile lopsided below a bruised cheek and a rakish bandage. ‘But I found myself assisting at an elopement and then had an unpleasant encounter with a milestone. Less haste, more speed, as the saying goes.’
‘An elopement?’ Mrs Finch repeated, her tone Arctic.
Chapter Twenty One
‘A friend I felt I had to support,’ Theo said. ‘A commitment to someone’s happiness I was honour-bound to see through.’
From her perch above Laura felt a quiver of hope run through her. Surely that meant he had somehow freed himself from Lady Penelope? She tried to push the thought away, it was too distracting.
Theo was still talking. ‘But enough of my travels, I hope I have not delayed the meal. Ah no, here comes the soup.’
‘Pottage de Crécy,’ Mrs Finch observed approvingly. ‘Excellent.’
Again that faint wisp of memory stirred in Laura’s mind. But what was there in carrot soup of any relevance?
Soup was followed by an array of small savouries and the wine continued to flow as the buzz of conversation grew louder. Snatches of explanation for Theo’s accident floated up – a shying leader, a milestone hidden in long grass, a broken axle. Waggett had been thrown clear, fortunately, and the horses were unharmed. Theo had been asleep and had been tossed from one side of the carriage to the other, hitting his
head on the window frame in the process.
The savouries were cleared, the roasts brought in, red wine was poured and the level of conversation dropped as the guests focused on the serious business of eating.
‘The sauce de la moutarde is delicious,’ Miss Jenner declared.
‘Simply sauce moutarde, dear,’ Mrs Finch corrected and the vague memory that had been tormenting Laura finally took shape and meaning.
She turned to Flynn, made urgent writing gestures and he moved silently to the door, beckoning her to follow. ‘You must take a note down to Perry,’ she whispered as the door closed behind them. ‘I think I have remembered something important.’
Theo glanced from Miss Jenner at his side to Flynn coming in with the salver and a note for the second time that evening. He was looking so expressionless that Theo felt a frisson of excitement down his spine. Something’s afoot.
‘Excuse me,’ Perry said and picked up the note, stared at it and refolded it. ‘Flynn, this is for Lord Northam, not for me.’
‘I beg your pardon, my lord.’ Flynn circled round, passing behind Mrs Finch, Hogget and Miss Jenner to where Theo sat with Gerard Redfern on his other side. He offered the salver between the two of them so that when Theo opened the note it was easy for Redfern to glance at it.
Papa told me Uncle S’s 1st wife – French, merchant class, anti-establishment sympathies. L.
He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I do apologise. It’s my coachman. He’s decided he’s worried about one of my horses, Manners’ man is suggesting a patent remedy and Waggett won’t make a decision without my agreement. Take this to Lord Ravenlaw for his opinion would you, Flynn? Has anyone had any experience of Macauly’s Strengthening Plaster for a cracked hoof?’
Considering he had just invented the remedy off the top of his head it was hardly surprising when the other men shook their heads, although Jenner suggested applying warm Stockholm tar.
Jared opened the note and raised one eyebrow. ‘I had not thought of this as a solution, but it sounds plausible to me. I suggest trying it.’ He dropped the note back on the salver as Theo waved Flynn from the room with agreement to try the plaster.
‘So sorry, ladies. Hardly dinner table conversation.’
But it seemed that enough wine had been consumed that even bringing equine ailments to the dinner table could be excused. Theo waited, alert for his cue to start the ball rolling. It came as the roasts were being cleared.
‘Will we have the pleasure of your company for much longer, Lord Northam?’ Lady Swinburn enquired.
‘I had been in two minds whether to return to Town for a short while before returning for Manners’ house party – the one I was expected for in the first place, if you recall – or to remain. I was wondering when the funeral of the Reverend Swinburn would take place. I feel I should attend that, having been instrumental in disturbing his peace.’
‘If the confounded Coroner would stop consulting with the Bishop and blathering about the unusual circumstances and decide when he will hold his inquest, I could tell you,’ Sir Walter snapped. ‘As it is, we will still be left wondering by Christmas.’