Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles, #1)(86)

Moments later the dining room doors swung open and several liveried servants entered and whisked away the soup bowls. Three more servants followed, carrying silver salvers on which rested what looked to Harry like six small chickens.

‘I do hope you like grouse, Mr Clifton,’ said Lord Harvey, the first person ever to call him Mr, as a bird was placed in front of him. ‘I shot these myself.’

Harry couldn’t think of an appropriate response. He watched as Giles picked up his knife and fork and began to slice tiny pieces off the bird, bringing back memories of their first meal together at St Bede’s. By the time the plates were cleared, Harry had only managed about three morsels and wondered how old he would have to be before he could say, ‘No, thank you, I’d prefer another bowl of soup.’

Things improved a little when a large plate of different fruits, some of which Harry had never seen before, was placed in the centre of the table. He would have liked to ask his host their names and the countries they originated from, but memories of his first banana came to mind, when he had definitely slipped. He satisfied himself with following Giles’s lead, watching carefully to see which had to be peeled, which had to be cut and which you could simply take a bite out of.

When he’d finished, a servant appeared and placed a bowl of water by the side of his plate. He was just about to pick it up and drink it, when he saw Lady Harvey place her fingers in hers and moments later a servant passed her a linen napkin so she could dry her hands. Harry dipped his fingers in the water and, like magic, a napkin immediately appeared.

After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room. Harry wanted to join them so he could at last catch up with Emma and tell her everything that had happened since she’d poisoned herself. But no sooner had she left the room than Lord Harvey sat back down, a sign for the under-butler to offer his lordship a cigar while another servant poured him a large glass of Cognac.

Once he’d taken a sip, he nodded and glasses were placed in front of Giles and Harry. The butler closed the humidor, before filling their glasses with brandy.

‘Well,’ said Lord Harvey after two or three luxuriant puffs. ‘Am I to understand that you are both hoping to go up to Oxford?’

‘Harry’s a safe bet,’ said Giles. ‘But I’ll need to score a couple of centuries during the summer, and preferably one at Lord’s if the examiners are going to overlook my more obvious deficiencies.’

‘Giles is being modest, sir,’ said Harry. ‘He has just as good a chance of being offered a place as I do. After all, he’s not only the captain of cricket, he’s also school captain.’

‘Well, if you are successful, I can assure you that you’ll experience three of the happiest years of your life. That’s assuming Herr Hitler isn’t foolish enough to insist on a replay of the last war in the vain hope that he’ll be able to reverse the result.’

The three of them raised their glasses and Harry took his first sip of brandy. He didn’t like the taste and was wondering if it would be thought discourteous if he didn’t finish it, when Lord Harvey came to his rescue.

‘Perhaps it’s time for us to join the ladies,’ he said, draining his glass. He put his cigar in an ashtray, rose from his place and marched out of the dining room, not waiting for a second opinion. The two young men followed him across the hall and into the drawing room.

Lord Harvey took the seat next to Elizabeth, while Giles winked at Harry and went across to join his grandmother. Harry sat next to Emma on the sofa.

‘How gallant of you to come all this way, Harry,’ she said, touching his hand.

‘I’m so sorry about what happened after the play. I only hope I wasn’t responsible for causing the problem in the first place.’

‘How could you possibly be responsible, Harry? You’ve never done anything that could have caused my father to speak to Mama that way.’

‘But it’s no secret that your father doesn’t think we should be together, even on stage.’

‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow morning,’ Emma whispered. ‘We can go for a long walk in the hills and be on our own, with only the Highland cattle to overhear us.’

‘I’ll look forward to that,’ said Harry. He would have liked to hold her hand, but there were too many eyes continually glancing in their direction.

‘You two young men must be very tired after such an exhausting journey,’ said Lady Harvey. ‘Why don’t you both go off to bed, and we’ll see you at breakfast in the morning.’

Harry didn’t want to go to bed; he wanted to stay with Emma and try to find out if she’d discovered why her father was so opposed to them being together. But Giles rose immediately, kissed his grandmother and mother on the cheek and said goodnight, leaving Harry with no choice but to join him. He leaned across and kissed Emma on the cheek, thanked his host for a wonderful evening and followed Giles out of the room.

As they walked down the hall, Harry paused to admire a painting of a bowl of fruit by an artist called Peploe when Emma came dashing out of the drawing room, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on the lips.

Giles continued up the stairs as if he hadn’t noticed, while Harry kept his eyes on the drawing-room door. Emma broke away when she heard it opening behind her.

‘Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow,’ she whispered.