The Sapphire Child (The Raj Hotel #2) - Janet MacLeod Trotter Page 0,40

her empty sherry glass and handed it to her. ‘Be a dear and fill this up again.’

Stella took her time going to the table with the decanter and half-filling the glass. There was no Minnie there to try and restrain Lydia’s drinking. Handing back the glass, she asked, ‘Would you like me to put on some music, Mrs Lomax?’

‘Not tonight,’ Lydia said. ‘You’ve had enough stimulation for one day, according to my son.’

Stella looked across at Andrew and saw the heat creep into his cheeks.

‘Oh yes.’ Lydia gave a drunken laugh. She was slurring her words. ‘He’s told me all about you playing golf and the vulgar paintings that Indian man hangs in the dining room. I hope the old colonel’s spinning in his grave.’

Stella thought it best to say nothing.

‘I must say, I think it quite extraordinary of Tibby to have you all trooping around the old tower and poking into bedrooms as if she were showing off some grand country house. I can’t think what the Langleys must really have thought of it. They were impeccably polite but it doesn’t exactly show the Lomaxes in a good light, does it? The place is so down-at-heel and yet Tibby behaves as if her family are still of high standing. I bet she boasted to the Langleys that the Lomaxes are descended from Robert the Bruce. Did she, Andrew?’

He looked up in interest. ‘Are we descended from Robert the Bruce?’

Lydia swigged her sherry and huffed. ‘I doubt it. But the Lomaxes always looked down their noses at us Templetons – even though we could have bought them out lock, stock and barrel.’

‘I’m proud to be a Lomax,’ Andrew said, with an intense look in his eyes that reminded Stella of Tom. ‘We’re a family of warriors and I want to be one too. Noel was really impressed – he wishes he was one of us.’

Lydia’s expression darkened. She polished off her drink. ‘Warriors?’

‘Yes.’ Andrew grew animated. ‘My great-grandfather helped put down the Indian Mutiny and my grandfather fought the Afghans – he was a friend of General Roberts of Kandahar. Even Dad told me that.’

‘Did he now? And what else did Dad say?’

Stella was uneasy at the icy tone.

‘Not much,’ Andrew admitted, ‘but I know Dad was a hero in Mesopotamia – Mr Fritwell at the Raj told me so.’

‘Fritters?’ Lydia said with derision. ‘What does he know about the Peshawar Rifles? He was a mere quartermaster for some inferior infantry regiment.’

‘Well, I suppose Dad must have told him. Dad hasn’t explained everything to me yet because it was probably too gory, but he’s promised to tell me when I go home.’

‘Home?’ Lydia said, a sudden tremble in her voice. ‘Don’t you feel at home here with me and Grandmamma?’

‘Of course,’ Andrew said. ‘I didn’t mean . . .’

Tears sprang to Lydia’s eyes. ‘That pains me so much, Andrew. I adore having you here and yet all you can think about is your father who doesn’t deserve your devotion – no, not in the least bit.’

Stella was suddenly incredibly anxious. Where was this leading? She wondered whether she should intervene, but Andrew was speaking again.

‘What do you mean, doesn’t deserve?’ Andrew frowned. ‘I wish you wouldn’t speak badly about him all the time.’

‘Oh, you’ve no idea what I had to put up with,’ said Lydia. She reached for a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. ‘And now you’re being cruel to me too – I can’t bear it.’ She began to sob.

‘Mamma?’ Andrew sprang up and went to comfort her. ‘I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.’

‘I sh-shouldn’t let myself get emotional about your father and what he’s done. But it’s just too much to hear you speak of him as a hero. I was taken in by all that heroism nonsense too, but it’s not true.’

Andrew looked at her in bewilderment. ‘Don’t say that, Mamma.’

‘Darling, I know things you don’t. I have friends in army circles. But let’s not spoil the evening by talking about it.’

Stella saw Andrew’s agitation grow. ‘What things don’t I know?’

‘I don’t want to be the one to tell you,’ Lydia said, sniffing into her handkerchief.

‘Tell me what? Please, Mamma, what do you know that I don’t? You’re as bad as Dad for thinking I’m too young to be told things.’

‘Oh dear, if I must,’ Lydia said. ‘Come and sit beside me.’

Stella felt now that she had to say something. Standing up, she said, ‘Isn’t it time Master Andrew went to bed? It’s been a tiring day and