Major Westhaven's Unwilling Ward

There was a clatter from the doorway behind them as the butler all but dropped the tray of sandwiches he was bearing.

Major Westhaven looked up, brows drawing together in irritation. ‘For God’s sake, man, have a care!’ He turned back to Lily, stony faced.

She, further taken aback by the aggressive way he spoke to his servant, tried all the harder to smooth things over. ‘I had understood you spent almost all your time here this last year, my lord.’

He nodded tersely. ‘Precisely why I am starting to tire of the place. Perhaps it is time for change.’

The butler, unloading his tray, was shaking his head. ‘If your father could hear you now,’ he muttered.

Lily, astonished, turned to look at him. Though still upright and slim of build, the man must be approaching seventy. In the grand houses she had visited before, the servants would never have dreamed of interrupting in such a fashion.

‘When I am in need of a lesson on family history, John, I will ask for one.’ The Major’s voice was low-pitched and even, but Lily sensed a clear undercurrent of carefully suppressed anger.

‘I very much doubt that.’

She saw the Major’s eyes flick from his butler to her, and saw his jaw clench further. ‘Excuse me a moment,’ he said tightly and rose, ushering the old man before him into the long gallery. The double doors did not close fully behind them, however, and from where they sat it was possible to both see and hear all that was said. Lily, eyes averted, tried nevertheless to appear engrossed in stirring her tea as the Major, upright with indignation, confronted his servant.

‘How dare you show me so little respect in front of my guests?’

The butler was not quelled. ‘You know how he worked to save Oakridge when he inherited it—and how he guarded it for you in turn. If he could hear you talk so, as if the place means nothing to you—’

‘That’s enough!’ Major Westhaven’s voice rose. ‘You forget who is master here!’

‘I could not forget if I tried, I assure you.’

There was a moment of silence, in which neither man moved.

Then, his voice a little lower but just as dangerous, the Major said, ‘Oakridge is mine now, however much you may wish otherwise. And I will speak as I please in my own home.’ Lily exchanged a look of alarm with Kitty, all pretence of deafness forgotten. Through the two inches or so between the doors she could see him, glaring down from his superior height upon the other man, who faced him bravely. ‘Have a care, old man, or you shall find yourself swiftly unemployed.’

This did cause John to falter, his grey brows drawing together. ‘How can you say such a thing? This was my home long before you were born!’

‘No.’ His master’s gaze was icy cold. ‘It was my father’s home. And now it is mine. Take care to remember that.’

He drew himself up as the old man shuffled away, then returned to the two women. Kitty hastily busied herself with refilling her cup, a look of deaf ignorance on her face, but Lily could not look away. Something in the way they had spoken to each other told of a bond deeper than the usual master-servant relationship; yet this only made the way the Major had spoken to the old man more appalling. Lily felt hurt and insulted on his behalf: she could not imagine serving a family for decades and being spoken to so! She wondered only that John did not leave.

The Major, seeing the accusation in her gaze, returned it defiantly none the less.

‘I apologise for my staff,’ was all he said, and the arrogant nonchalance in his tone almost undid her. She pressed her lips tightly together for fear of speaking her thoughts aloud and concentrated on not flinging her teacup at him.

‘Now. Where were we?’ he asked.

But Lily could pretend no longer. ‘If you do not mind, I think I would like to go home now,’ she said at last, stiffly.

‘We have not yet discussed your living arrangements, Miss Pevensey.’

‘We can do so at a later date.’

‘You have not finished your tea, and you have eaten nothing.’ His tone was dangerous.

She tipped up her chin, teeth clenched. ‘I cannot speak for Lady Stanton, my lord—but I have quite lost my appetite.’

He did not even glance at Kitty, but stared straight back at her, eyes stormy in a face that could have been carved from stone. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and for a moment she thought he was going to argue.

‘Very well,’ he said eventually. ‘If you will wait here, I will arrange for my carriage to be readied.’

‘My thanks.’ She watched as he strode off, then, turning to Kitty, hissed, ‘Did I not tell you? He has not the manners of a…well—he has no manners at all!’

Kitty looked thoroughly taken aback. ‘It was most odd,’ she conceded, eyes wide. ‘Yet perhaps he has reason to—’

‘Reason? What reason could he have to behave so?’ Rising to her feet, Lily went to the double doors and peeped back into the long gallery.

There, as she suspected he would be, stood the old man, a slight, miserable figure before the huge painting of the previous Lord and Lady Westhaven.

‘Wait here a moment,’ she said softly. Then, without waiting for an answer from her friend, she slipped through the doors and went forward, feet light on the floorboards, down the long room towards him.

‘John?’

He turned slightly as she drew near. Her heart twisted as she saw there were tears in his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, because she did not know what else to say.

The old man was shaking his head, eyes sad. ‘If Kit Westhaven could see his son now…He cherished this place…would have given all to preserve his family home.’

‘You served him?’

He nodded. ‘Almost my whole life.’

‘How long has he been gone?’

John shook his head. ‘Not quite a year,’ he said desolately, shaking his head again. ‘I never thought I would survive to see my master dead and his beloved Oakridge home to a man who no longer cares for anything. It is not right.’

‘He should not have spoken to you so,’ she said. ‘I will ensure he will not throw you out, you have my word on that.’

John’s rheumy eyes seemed to alight properly on her face for the first time. ‘He’ll not throw me out.’ He looked past her to where Major Westhaven had stood. ‘He is a good man, under it all. But he has changed, my lady. He was not always as you saw him, not before he went to fight in the war.’

‘Many men go to war,’ she said firmly. ‘They do not all come back monsters.’ With a painful twist in her heart she added, ‘Some do not come back at all.’

His eyes softened, as if in recollection. ‘Of course—you are Robert Pevensey’s sister. Forgive my thoughtlessness.’

She was surprised. ‘Major Westhaven has spoken of my brother?’

‘He used to, often. These days he speaks little.’

‘I wonder that you can put up with such behaviour,’ she said with feeling.

He looked at her sharply. ‘Of the ones who did return, Miss Pevensey, few lost what he did.’

She frowned at the sorrow in his eyes. ‘What do you—?’