Imogen Robertson - Island of Bones

‘Oh please, just call me Felix, Mrs Westerman, rather than mangle your tongue.’

‘I would have thought you an Englishman, Felix. Were you at school here?’

He grinned up at her, holding her hand a little longer than necessary and Harriet wondered if the child intended to flirt with her. ‘I was indeed. French I learned from my tutors, and my father’s native tongue I learned from the servants, on horseback or in gaming hells. I do remarkably well in Vienna as a result.’

He did have some charm. He stood back from her and performed a slow turn.

‘Do not keep me in suspense, madam. I have been at such trouble with my appearance this afternoon. What do you think my esteemed uncle will make of me? Knowing him as well as you do, you must be able to give me some hint.’

Harriet had known for a little while of the existence of Crowther’s sister and nephew, but until now she had never pictured him as part of a family group. So cut off as Crowther was from the general run of society it seemed impossible to imagine him with the same ties and blood loyalties as other people.

‘It would foolish of anyone to claim to know the secrets of another person’s mind. Especially Crowther’s,’ she said. ‘In truth, I must tell you I only learned of his given name this morning.’

Felix shook his head at her. ‘Yet you travel the country with him and bring murderers to justice by his side! Madam, how remarkable.’

‘I am a rich widow, Felix. I may do as I like.’

Harriet at once wished she had not used such a tone. She might be sharing the house with this handsome young man for some weeks to come. Rachel would have put her head in her hands on hearing such a phrase in her sister’s mouth. Harriet had wished to sound at ease with herself, but felt she had made herself already not quite respectable.

Harriet had enjoyed an unusual life long before she met Crowther. After her marriage she had travelled the world with her husband and flourished in the variety and challenges such a life entailed. It had made her something of an oddity when motherhood and the need to provide a home for her unmarried sister had forced her into remaining at Caveley. The walls had closed in on her and she found herself continually failing to meet the expectations of country society. She had been thought rather too free in her speech and fixed in her opinions. Then she found herself involved in murder. Those events had given her a degree of fame and she had made some powerful friends, but she could see that for many men and women of her class, her actions had confirmed her as an oddity, rather like the lizard with two heads which the Pulborough apothecary, Gladwell, kept in his parlour. Now here, when the knowledge of the reputation that went before her should make her most circumspect, she was talking like a woman who revelled in her dubious fame. She was angry with herself. Felix, however, was, to all appearances, enchanted.

‘Oh, capital! I cannot agree with you more, Mrs Westerman. Always do what you will and leave the Devil standing in your dust.’ Harriet opened her mouth in hopes she might somehow smooth out what she had said, but the young man did not give her the chance to speak. ‘But please, before my uncle arrives, give me the benefit of your wisdom. What will he think of me? His reputation is rather fearsome, I understand.’

Harriet sighed, and this time considered a little before she spoke. ‘Felix, Crowther is not cruel. He will not mock you. But if you wish a serious opinion, it is this. Unless you are dead, or have some interesting remark to make on scientific subjects, I think it likely that Crowther will not notice you at all.’ Felix’s fire left him and he looked younger than before. Harriet smiled. ‘Do not be downcast, sir, but be comforted in this. Crowther will not judge you either. If you do not irritate him, he will probably learn to like you. I have seen him make a number of unlikely alliances in the past, and he should be disposed to think well of you, given your close relation. If he thinks well of you, you could not wish for a better friend. I only mean you should not try to charm him. Be yourself, be frank and do not chatter is my advice.’

Felix smiled lopsidedly. ‘You ask the impossible. My mother tells me I chatter far too much, and I am sure I become an irritant to many of my friends, even those as good-willed as yourself I have had a very expensive education, and know nothing. I have an estate in Mecklenburg and no idea of agriculture. The last two years that I have spent in Vienna, I have been mostly at the card table. I am careless, idle and bored. My uncle will dislike me intensely, I think.’

There was nothing playful in Harriet’s frown now. ‘How can you say such things of yourself? I understand there is an extensive library here. Perhaps you can use your stay to remedy the defects of your education.’

He laughed — his spirits as suddenly recovered as they were lost. ‘Now, dear Mrs Westerman, you sound like one of those dull country parsons. So severe! How could I spend my time in the library with this landscape to explore? And I am sure there are diversions in Keswick too for a man of my age and expectations. Though I do love to read novels. Are there any here? Have you read The Sorrows of Young Werther ? It is a remarkable book, although I cannot quite believe a man suffering so for love. I have too much English blood in my veins, though every man one meets in Vienna has taken to sighing over some unavailable beauty in imitation of the hero.’

Harriet had read the book when it was translated into her own tongue, and found it rather irritating, so was happy to spend some time mocking it in Felix’s company. His tone continued careless, but there was perception in his remarks and Harriet began to think he might be cleverer than he pretended. Once they had entertained themselves in this way for some minutes, the door opened and Crowther appeared. Felix introduced himself and Crowther looked him carefully up and down, said he was glad to meet him, then took a paper from the side-table and sat down to read.

Felix tried to meet Harriet’s eye, but she would not engage and instead walked to the window to admire again the view down to the lake. Mrs Briggs arrived, which drew them back together into the island of settees around the empty fire. Though when Mrs Briggs mentioned that she understood there was an acquaintance of Felix’s staying in the town, he scowled.

‘Would you like to invite them to Silverside for my summer party tomorrow?’ she asked uncertainly.

‘Do not trouble yourself, madam,’ he replied. ‘The acquaintance is very slight, and they are not the sort of person to whom my mother would wish to be introduced.’ Mrs Briggs was obviously somewhat taken aback, but when Harriet asked about the arrangements for her party, she recovered quickly enough. The ladies discussed the trouble of providing ices for a crowd, and Felix offered his opinion on the arrangements for the archery competition. Crowther did not contribute to their talk, but the others established an easy flow of conversation until the Vizegrafin entered.

She apologised lightly for keeping them from their dinner, and touched the complicated arrangement of her hair by way of explanation. As Harriet stood to make her curtsey, she studied the woman. In her form she was very like Crowther, with the same hooded blue eyes, and high bones in the cheek. She had none of his reserve, however, and as soon as they were seated, began to question Harriet rather thoroughly about her estate, her children and her parents. When she began to make detailed enquiries about the affairs of the family at Thornleigh Hall and the young Lord Sussex, Harriet found she was struggling to answer with any degree of politeness. Twice Mrs Briggs tried to steer the conversation clear of the shoals with some other remark, and twice she was all but ignored by the Vizegrafin. Her eyes were constantly darting between Harriet and Crowther in a way that began to irritate. Felix started to frown and Harriet felt herself examined from all sides; she could sense her fingers tightening on her fan. Having observed the interrogation for some minutes, Crowther sighed audibly, then turned to Mrs Briggs and began to talk to her, listening to her replies with apparent interest.