This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles #7)(81)
Cook never caught sight of Matron’s diet sheet, and allowed the duke to start the day as he always had, with a bowl of porridge and brown sugar, followed by fried eggs, sausages, two rashers of bacon and baked beans (his favourite), smothered in HP Sauce. This was accompanied by white toast with butter and marmalade and piping hot coffee with two spoonfuls of sugar. He would then retire to read The Times in his study, where a packet of Silk Cut had been left on the armrest of his chair. At around eleven thirty, the butler would bring him a mug of hot chocolate and a slice of coffee cake, just in case he felt a little peckish, which kept him going until lunch.
Lunch consisted of fish, just as Matron had recommended. However, it wasn’t boiled but fried in batter, with a large bowl of chips near at hand. Chocolate pudding – Matron had made no mention of chocolate – was rarely turned down by the duke, followed by more coffee and his first cigar of the day.
Virginia allowed him an afternoon siesta, before waking him for a long walk around the estate so he could work up an appetite for his next meal. After he’d changed for dinner, the duke would enjoy a sherry, perhaps two, before going through to the dining room, where Virginia took a particular interest in selecting the wines that would accompany their meal. Cook was well aware that the duke liked nothing better than a rare sirloin steak with roast potatoes and all the trimmings. Cook felt it was nothing less than her duty to keep his grace happy, and hadn’t he always had second helpings of everything?
After dinner, the butler would dutifully pour a balloon of brandy and clip the duke’s Havana cigar before lighting it. When they eventually retired to bed, Virginia did everything in her power to arouse the duke, and although she rarely succeeded, he always fell asleep exhausted.
Virginia kept to her routine slavishly, indulging her husband’s slightest whim, while appearing to any onlooker to be caring, attentive and devoted. She made no comment when he could no longer do up the buttons on his trousers, or dozed off for long spells during the afternoon, and told anyone who asked, ‘I’ve never seen him fitter, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he lived to a hundred,’ although that wasn’t quite what she had in mind.
Virginia spent some considerable time preparing for Perry’s seventy-second birthday. A special occasion, was how she described it to all and sundry, on which the duke should be allowed, just for once, to indulge himself.
After enjoying a hearty breakfast, Perry went off to shoot pheasants with his pals, carrying his favourite Purdey shotgun under his arm, and a flask of whisky in his hip pocket. He was on top form that morning and bagged twenty-one birds before returning to the castle, exhausted.
His spirits were lifted by the sight of guinea fowl, sausages, onions, fried potatoes and a jug of thick gravy. Could a man ask for more, he demanded of his chums. They agreed wholeheartedly, and continually raised their glasses to toast his health. The last of them didn’t depart until dusk, by which time he had fallen asleep.
‘You take such good care of me, old gal,’ he said when Virginia woke him in time to change for dinner. ‘I’m a remarkably lucky man.’
‘Well, it is a special occasion, my darling,’ said Virginia, presenting him with her birthday present. His eyes lit up when he tore off the wrapping paper to discover a box of Romeo y Julieta cigars.
‘Churchill’s favourites,’ he declared.
‘And he lived to over ninety,’ Virginia reminded him.
During dinner, the duke looked a little tired. However, he managed to finish his blancmange before enjoying a glass of brandy and the first of the Churchill cigars. When they finally climbed the stairs just after midnight, he had to cling on to the bannister as he struggled to mount each step, his other arm firmly around Virginia’s shoulders.
When they finally reached the bedroom, he only managed a few more paces before collapsing on to the bed. Virginia began to slowly undress him, but he’d fallen asleep before she’d taken off his shoes.
By the time she had undressed and joined him in bed, he was snoring peacefully. Virginia had never seen him looking so contented. She switched off the light.
When Virginia woke the following morning, she turned over to find the duke still had a smile on his face. She pulled back the curtains, returned to the bedside and took a closer look. She thought he looked a little pale. She checked his pulse, but couldn’t find it. She sat on the end of the bed and thought carefully about what she should do next.
First, she removed any signs of the cigar and the brandy, replacing them with a bowl of nuts and a carafe of water with a slice of lemon. She opened the window to allow in some fresh air, and once she had checked the room a second time, she sat down at her dressing table, checked her make-up and composed herself.
Virginia allowed a few moments to go by before she took a deep breath and let out a piercing scream. She then rushed to the door and, for the first time since she’d married Perry, left the bedroom wearing a dressing gown. She ran down the wide staircase and the moment she saw Lomax, her voice breaking, she said, ‘Call an ambulance. The duke has had another heart attack.’
The butler immediately picked up the phone in the hall.
Dr Ainsley arrived thirty minutes later, by which time Virginia had dressed and was waiting for him in the hall. She accompanied him to the bedroom. It didn’t take a long examination before he told the dowager duchess something she already knew.