Page 282 of The Armor of Light
He said nothing.
‘You can stay the night,’ she said, making it perfectly clear. ‘If you’d like to,’ she added nervously.
He smiled. ‘Yes, dear Sal,’ he said. ‘Oh, yes, I’d like to.’
*
Henry, earl of Shiring, died in December 1821. In the end his death had nothing to do with his head wound: he was killed by a fall from a horse.
Jane looked good in black but Amos knew she was not really mourning. Henry had been a good soldier but a poor husband.
The funeral was held in Kingsbridge Cathedral, with old Bishop Reddingcote in charge. Just about all the gentry in the county came, plus every man of importance in Kingsbridge, and all the officers of the regiment. Amos reckoned there were more than a thousand people in the nave.
Major Percival Dwight came from London. He told everyone he was representing the duke of York, who was commander-in-chief of the army, and no doubt it was true, but those in the know believed he had come to woo the widow.
After the service the coffin was carried outside and loaded into a carriage drawn by four black horses. There was a light fall of snow, and flakes caught in their manes and melted on their warm backs. When the coffin was secured the carriage drew away, heading for Earlscastle, where Henry would be laid to rest in the family tomb.
The wake was held in the Assembly Rooms. Amos was invited into a side room for special guests. Jane lifted her veil to talk to people, showing no evidence of tears.
After the first rush of people expressing their condolences to her, Amos got her alone for a few minutes and asked what her plans were.
‘I shall go to London,’ she said. ‘We have a house there, which Henry hardly ever used. It’s Hal’s now, of course, but I’ve talked to him and he’s happy for me to live there.’
‘Well, you’ll have at least one friend.’
‘Who are you referring to?’
‘Major Dwight.’
‘I’ll have more friends than him, Amos. The duchess of Richmond, for one. And several others I knew in Brussels.’
‘Will you have enough money?’
‘Hal has agreed to continue my dress allowance, which was always rather generous.’
‘I know. You made Spade’s sister quite rich.’
‘That’s not all I did. I took out insurance on Henry’s life, and paid the instalments out of the money he gave me, without telling him. So I’ll have money of my own.’
‘I’m very glad.’ I might have guessed, Amos thought, that Jane would have taken care of her financial future. ‘Will you marry again?’
‘A very inappropriate question to ask me at my husband’s funeral.’
‘I know, but you hate people to be mealy-mouthed about such matters.’
She chuckled. ‘You know me too well, you dog. But I’m not going to answer you.’
‘Fair enough.’
Someone else came to offer condolences, and Amos moved to the buffet. His stepson Stephen was talking to Hal, the new earl at the age of sixteen. Amos heard Hal say: ‘So how many lectures do you have to attend every week?’
‘You don’t have to attend any of them,’ Stephen said. ‘But most people do about one a day.’
They were talking about Oxford, obviously. Amos recalled how jealous he had used to feel of young men who went to universities, and how he had wondered whether a son of his would ever have that privilege. Now his unacknowledged illegitimate son was about to fulfil the dream. How strange, Amos mused. I got my wish in a way I never imagined.
But that was life, he had learned. Things never turned out quite how you expected.
*
