'Yes . . . I suppose so.'

Although the boys ate heartily, there was a peculiar sense of despondency hanging over the table, and as soon as the footman had served their cuts of meat and retired from the room William leaned closer to his brothers and whispered, 'They might have stayed in for us. After all, they haven't seen us for absolutely ages.'

'Bad timing,' Richard shrugged.'It happens. Besides, it has been a long journey, and I, for one, am utterly exhausted. Good night's sleep will do me wonders and I'll be fresh for the parents first thing tomorrow.'

'I suppose so,' William muttered. 'But all the same . . .'

Arthur felt too tired to eat more than a few slices of pork and then he placed his knife and fork together and sat back and waited for his brothers to finish eating. Glancing over the room, he saw that it was comfortable enough and well maintained, but it was a fraction of the scale of Dangan. Then his gaze switched to the window. The dining room was on the first floor and overlooked the street. Outside, in the gloom a solitary hackney cab trotted past like a grey fish in a dirty aquarium through the stained and pitted gla.s.s.

After dinner he was shown up to a narrow room off a short corridor on the fourth floor of the house. A bra.s.s bed lay beneath a sash window. The clothes from his trunk had already been unpacked and neatly folded away in a large wardrobe. He undressed, slipped on his nightshirt and then climbed under the covers and lay down. For a while, sleep would not come and he sat listening for any sound of his parents' return. But the house was quiet and the only sounds were the occasional m.u.f.fled clop and clatter of a carriage in the street below. Far away a distant bell chimed the pa.s.sing of another hour.

Arthur woke to find a pale beam of light shining directly on to his face. For a moment he was startled and confused by the setting.Then the previous night's arrival came back to him and he threw back the covers and hurriedly dressed. He had no precise idea of the time and feared that the rest of the family was already at breakfast.The prospect of being reunited with his parents filled his heart with a warm glow, and as soon as he had laced up his boots he ran downstairs in a cascade of thuds. On the first floor he slid to a halt and changed direction towards the dining room. The door was slightly ajar and he wrenched it open and ran in, breathless and smiling.

'Morning, Arthur,' Richard said quietly. He was the only person in the room. The table was laid for breakfast but none of the settings had been disturbed.

Arthur frowned. 'Where is everybody?'

'Still in bed.'

'Oh . . .'

'You might as well join me. I've sent for tea and some lamb chops.'

Arthur crossed the room and pulled out a chair opposite his eldest brother. 'What time is it?'

'Half-past seven. Or it was when I asked a little white ago.'

'Half-past seven!' Arthur could not hide his astonishment. Back in Dangan, everyone would have finished breakfast long ago. 'Do you think they're all ill?'

'William's a heavy sleeper, but the others . . . ?' Richard shrugged.

An elderly maid entered the dining room from a small service door in one corner. She carried a tray to the table and quietly set it down beside Richard. She removed the cover from a plate to reveal some lamb chops still steaming.

'Will there be anything else, sir?'

'No, thank you.'

She looked up. 'Will the other gentleman require anything?'

'Some tea, please. And bread. And do you know what time my parents will be joining us?'

'Tea and bread.Very well, sir. As to the other matter, I cannot say. They did not return until after midnight. On such occasions they are rarely to breakfast before nine o'clock.'

'Nine o'clock!' Arthur exclaimed. 'But that's half the morning gone.'

'You might say that, sir.'

'What about Anne and Gerald?'

'They were fed earlier, sir. Their nanny has taken them for a walk. Now, if I may, I'll fetch your breakfast.'

She turned and disappeared through the service door. Arthur looked at his brother helplessly. 'She can't be right.'

'We'll see.'

Richard ate his lamb chops and then sat waiting while Arthur chewed at his bread. Shortly before eight o'clock William entered the dining room and was as puzzled as the others at the absence of the rest of the family. Finally, at quarter to nine, the sound of the parents' voices could be heard and a moment later they entered the dining room, still in their nightclothes. Lady Mornington clapped her hands to her cheeks. 'My darlings!'

She rushed round the table to deliver kisses to her sons, and then took her seat with a smile as Lord Mornington a.s.sumed his place at the head of the table with a smile.'Good to see you again, boys.'

'We arrived last night,' Richard said curtly.'And you were out.'

'That's right,' his mother answered. 'There was a ball at the DeVries place on Mayfair.We simply couldn't refuse. Please don't take on so. Not when we haven't seen you for so many months.'

'Which is why I thought you might be keen to see us.'

'And I am, I am, Richard dear. But you must understand, it's so important to make the right connections in London. Really, if we could have possibly avoided last night's soiree we would have. Isn't that so, Garrett?'

'Yes. And I think Richard might show a little more grat.i.tude for all our efforts to smooth the path to good society for him and his brothers.'

Richard swallowed. 'I am grateful, Father. Truly.'

'There!' Anne smiled.'I told you he'd be pleased. Boys, you are going to love it here. There's so much going on. So many interesting people to meet. I can't wait to present you to my friends.'

'I'm looking forward to it, Mother.'

'And please don't speak that way, Richard.'

He looked puzzled. 'What way?'

'With that accent. It really won't do in London society. Makes you sound so . . . provincial.'

'Provincial?' Richard looked surprised. 'It's how I've always spoken.'

'Precisely,' his father cut in.'And that's why it must change.You don't want society making a.s.sumptions about you.That applies to you two as well. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon enough. Things are different here, and you must make every effort to fit in unless you want to be cut from everyone's list. I'm sure you wouldn't want that to happen to your mother and me, as a consequence of any mistake that you might make.' Garrett looked at his eldest son fixedly.

'We understand, Father.'

'Good! That's settled. Now we can enjoy ourselves. Oh, I nearly forgot! Arthur, I've found a new school for you. Brown's in Chelsea.Term starts next week. I'm sure you are looking forward to it.'

Arthur smiled weakly.

'Make a nice change from that backwater at Trim.'

'I quite liked Trim,' Arthur replied. 'Once I got used to it. And Dr Buckleby was a fine teacher.'

'Yes, yes, he was. How was he when you left? He must be getting on.'

'He is old, but his mind is sharp.' Arthur looked up brightly. 'He wrote a piece of music for me. I have it upstairs. Would you like me to fetch it?'

'There'll be plenty of time to see his little ditty later, Arthur. Perhaps we can find some time to sit down together and play it through.'

'I'd like that.'

'But not today. I have a head like a blacksmith's and I need to lie down this morning.'

Anne rang the small handbell on the table. When the maid appeared she ordered coffee to be sent to her bedroom and rose from the table.

'Now, boys, I must get ready for the day. Please feel free to explore your new home. You can play with the others in the nursery when they return. Then, after lunch we can take a carriage to Cortfields and have you three measured up for some proper clothes. Until later.' She turned and waved over her shoulder without looking round.

'Well,' Garrett smiled, 'I need to rest my head. It's good to see you again.'

Once he had left the room the three boys were alone again. Arthur felt that an important bond with his father had been broken and he feared that it would never be restored.

Chapter 19.

Brown's in Chelsea was an undistinguished prep school on the fringe of a fashionable area. Arthur was escorted to school early each morning by O'Shea. The headmaster was a bilious ex-army officer, Major Blyth, whose educational philosophy was that a curriculum needed to be limited to the fewest possible skills delivered in the most repet.i.tious manner. William had been sent to Eton and Richard had gone up to Oxford as soon as a place had been found for him at one of the colleges. Accordingly, the house felt strangely empty and, since it was rented, very impersonal. The thick, gritty air of the city became even more of a stew as spring gave way to summer and the almost permanent haze that hung over the centre of London shrouded its inhabitants in a sweltering gloom that depressed Arthur's spirits.

By the time he returned from school it was suppertime, and more often than not he ate with his younger siblings while his parents dressed for yet another engagement. When it was not a ball, or a party, it was the theatre, occasionally opera or even a prizefight. His father was still composing and had scheduled a series of free public concerts at venues across the city. However, the busy social scene left Garrett too little time for recital sessions with his son and Arthur was left to practise alone in his room. At first he made a great effort to learn Dr Buckleby's composition, but time pa.s.sed and his father showed no sign of setting aside a few moments to hear the piece.

Occasionally there was a family outing. Usually it was to one of Garrett's concerts, in order to boost the numbers in the audience and Anne prompted them to wild applause after each piece. At other times the children were taken to the races or cricket, and were frequently left in the care of one of the staff while their parents circulated amongst the other aristocrats and swapped invitations. Whenever Lord and Lady Mornington entertained at home the children were expected to keep discreetly out of the way in their rooms or the nursery.Thanks to the war in the American colonies the capital was filled with the colourful uniforms of officers either on their way out to fight the traitor General Washington and his ragtag army, or recently returned from campaigning. From what Arthur heard from such men the war was not going as well as the London papers implied.

In any case, the people of the capital were concerned with events much closer to home that summer of 1780. Lord George Gordon, a fervent opponent of the Church of Rome, had been stirring up the London mob. At a series of public meetings he claimed that there was a conspiracy behind the Catholic Relief Acts that had been pa.s.sed two years earlier to restore some of their civil rights. Arthur and his father had been walking in Hyde Park one Sunday when they came across a crowd listening to one of Gordon's fiery attacks on the Catholics plotting to seize power in England. Gordon, red-faced and spluttering, punched his fists into the air as he raged against his enemies, and played his audience like a cheap fiddle. Their grumbling a.s.sent to his rhetoric soon turned into a seething expression of hatred. It was the first time that Arthur had witnessed the raw emotions of the mob and the experience frightened him.

'Father.' He tugged Garrett's hand. 'Please can we go home? That man is scaring me.'

An old woman with black, crooked teeth overheard the remark and leered at Arthur. 'Why bless you, young 'un, that's 'is point. We've plenty to be scared of. Them Catholics'll 'ave us for breakfast, less we 'ave 'em first!'

Garrett stepped between them. 'Please leave my son alone.'

She glared at him. 'I'm only tellin' 'im the truth, sir. Best he knows it, 'fore it's too late.'

Garrett, holding tightly to Arthur's hand, eased them away from the old woman. He paused a moment longer, listening to Gordon's impa.s.sioned ranting, and gauging the response of the crowd. Then he said to his son, 'He's scaring me too. Come, let's go, before there's trouble.'

At the start of June a crowd gathered outside the Houses of Parliament, and shouted their fury at the politicians as Gordon and his followers stoked up their rage with yet more speeches and pamphlets. Inevitably the mob turned to violence and in the days that followed,Arthur saw thick clouds of smoke spiral into the sky as the mob raged through the streets of the East End. On the morning of 7 June, on the way to school, Arthur had had to stand in a shop front while a drunken mob of men marched past, yelling anti-Catholic slogans, as they hurried to join the rioters. He stared at them in wide-eyed fright until they had pa.s.sed by, and then ran the rest of the way to school.

'And what is the meaning of this?' Anne waved the note from Major Blyth at her son.

She sat in a velvet gown at her make-up table in her boudoir where she had been applying beauty spots for that evening's party. She would be attending by herself since Garrett had been bed-bound for the last week with a cough.The doctor had prescribed rest and leeches. Garrett had consented to the first treatment but insisted that his bankers provided more than enough of the second.

Arthur had been summoned from his room the moment she had finished reading the note and now stood in the doorway, eyes downcast.

'Well, speak up!'

'There was a fight, Mother. These things happen in schools.'

She fixed him with a cold stare. 'Don't you dare address me in that tone.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Major Blyth informs me that you started the fight.'

'Yes, Mother.'

'Why?'

'I was insulted.'

'So you thought you would call him out.'

'No, I just punched him.'

'You punched him?' Anne looked over his frail frame. 'I'm surprised the other boy didn't snap you in two. Lucky for you Major Blyth was on hand to break it up.'

Arthur shrugged. 'Seems my fortune is changing.'

'And what does that mean exactly?'

For a moment Arthur felt his emotions rushing to the surface and he had to pause to control them. 'I don't like it here, Mother. I never have. I don't like the school. I don't like London. I don't like feeling abandoned by you and Father-'

'Oh, grow up, Arthur!' his mother snapped, slapping down the headmaster's note. 'You can't spend your life squirrelled away in some draughty Irish backwater. London is where things happen. Make the most of it.'

'I'm tired of London.'

'Arthur,' she continued in a more kindly tone, 'this is your home now and you had better get used to it. It is also my home and your father's, and we like it here. Please try not to spoil it for us.'

'What happens when the money runs out?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I'm not a fool, Mother. I know what an overdraft is. I heard you talking about it with Father the other night. What happens when his debts are called in?'