you Joseph? I'm only too delighted that you and Deborah shall be part of our family."
So here was the standard welcome. Wisely, Lynley's mother had saved it for the person she had intuitively known would most need to hear it.
"Thank you, m'lady." Cotter clasped his hands behind him as if in the fear that one might jump out and begin pumping Lady Asherton's arm of its own volition.
Lady Asherton smiled. It was a duplicate of Tommy's crooked smile. "It's Dorothy, actually, although for some reason that I've never quite understood, my family and friends have always called me Daze. Which is better than Diz, I suppose, since that suggests dizzy, and I'm afraid I should have to draw the line at something that comes so perilously close to describing my personality."
Cotter looked rather dumbfounded at what was clearly an invitation to address the widow of an earl by her Christian name. Nonetheless, after a moment for thought, he nodded sharply and replied, "Daze it is."
"Good," Lady Asherton responded. "Lovely. We've a beautiful weekend for a visit, haven't we? It's been a bit hot, of course - today's quite warm, isn't it? - but I expect we'll have a breeze this afternoon. Sidney's already arrived, by the way. And she's brought the most interesting young man with her. Rather dark and melancholy."
"Brooke?" St. James asked sharply. He didn't look pleased.
"Yes. Justin Brooke. Do you know him, Simon?"
"Rather better than he'd like, if the truth be told," Lady Helen said. "But he promises to behave himself, don't you, Simon darling? No poison in the porridge. No duelling at dawn. No brawls on the drawing room floor. Just utter civility for seventy-two hours.
What perfect teeth-gritting bliss."
"I'll treasure each moment," St. James replied.
Lady Asherton laughed. "Of course you will. What house party could possibly be complete without skeletons swinging out of every closet and tempers on the boil? It makes me feel quite a young girl again." She took Cotter's arm and led the way into the house. "Let me show you something I'm absurdly proud of, Joseph," they could hear her saying as she pointed to the elaborate tessellated entry. "This was put in just after our great fire of 1849 by some local workmen. Now, don't you believe this for an instant, but legend has it the fire ..." Her voice drifted out of their hearing. In a moment, Cotter's laughter rang out in response.
At that, the churning in Deborah's stomach lessened. Relief shot through her muscles like a spring releasing tension and told her how nervous she had really been about this first meeting of their parents. It could have been disastrous. It would have been disastrous, had Tommy's mother been any other sort of woman save the kind who swept away the diffidence of strangers with a few amiable words.
She's wonderful. Deborah felt the need to say it aloud to someone and without thinking, she turned to St. James.
All the signs of approval were on his face. The lines round his eyes crinkled more deeply.
Briefly, he smiled.
"Welcome to Howenstow, Deb darling." Lynley put his arm round her shoulders and led her into the house where a high ceiling and a mosaic floor made the air cool and moist, a refreshing change from the heat outside.
They found Lady Asherton and Cotter in the great hall to the right of the entry. It was an elongated room, dominated by a fireplace whose chimneypiece of unadorned granite was surmounted by the head of a wild gazelle. Pendant plaster work decorated the ceiling, and drop-moulded panelling covered the walls. Upon these hung life-sized portraits of the lords and ladies of Asherton, representatives from each generation, who gazed upon their descendants in every kind of pose and every kind of dress.
Deborah paused before an eighteenth-century portrait of a man in cream breeches and red coat, leaning against a half-broken urn with a riding crop in his hand and a spaniel at his feet. 'Tommy, good heavens. He looks exactly like you." "He's certainly what Tommy would look like if we could only talk him into wearing those delicious trousers," Lady Helen remarked. Deborah felt Lynley's arm tighten round her shoulders. She thought at first it was in response to the laughter that greeted Lady Helen's comment. But she saw that a door had opened at the north end of the hall and a tall young man wearing threadbare blue jeans was padding in his bare feet across the parquet floor. A hollow-cheeked girl followed him.