Falconer had become an expert on wine over the years, and Mr Montague had allowed him to create a wonderful cellar.
James knew how lucky the whole family was, because of Philip and Esther Falconer. Their very long service in the Montague household protected them all. His father and two uncles worked and made decent livings, but there was, most importantly, the reassuring knowledge that the older Falconers were there for them, should they need help of any kind. Lucky indeed.
People giving over their entire lives to one aristocratic family was not unusual, but James knew his grandparents were kept on also because they were excellent at what they did. In a sense they had become part of the family, were often given many small privileges which were much appreciated. James’s grandparents had many perks because the Montagues thought so highly of them. His grandmother had recently confided that Lady Agatha had told her that she was not the best, but better than the best, and so was Philip. Esther had sounded very proud and pleased when she recounted this to him.
James looked across at the door as it opened and his grandfather came in, a huge smile on his face. Jumping up, James ran to him. They embraced and Philip kissed his cheek before releasing him.
‘What a nice surprise to see you, my boy. I notice that you’ve shot up since I last saw you.’
‘That’s what Father says.’
‘Your grandmother told me your mother’s not well; that’s why Matthew sent you for the raspberry vinegar. He’s all right himself, isn’t he?’
James nodded. ‘Fighting fit, he says.’
Philip seated himself on the sofa, and James took the chair opposite. ‘Has Lady Agatha gone away then?’
Philip smiled, knowing how much James enjoyed the way Her Ladyship fussed over him. ‘She has indeed, with the Honourable Mister and Miss Helena and Master William, plus two maids, the valet, and enough baggage to fill two coaches. Gone to the Riviera to enjoy the sun and the festivities by the sea. They will stay in Nice and then progress to Monte Carlo. They will return in September, unless the Honourable Mister wants to come back in August for the grouse season.’
Esther arrived and announced, ‘Let’s go to the staff dining room and have a bite of lunch.’ Beckoning to them, she went on, ‘Cook has made a cottage pie, and she’s now preparing another one for you to take home, James, and an excellent chicken soup for your mother. Nothing like chicken soup to cure a sore throat.’
Philip and James followed Esther as she hurried down the corridor and into the staff dining room, where they sat down together. They would have it to themselves for the next hour, while the other staff cleaned the house and went about their duties.
For a long time Esther had wanted to discuss the future with her grandson, eager to know if he had any special plans about his work. This was a great opportunity to bring up the subject.
Turning to look at him, her pale green eyes filled with love, she began. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you if you intend to spend your life working at the market with Matthew on the two stalls. Or whether you might have other ideas, perhaps?’
Taken by surprise, James stared at her, his eyes wide, his expression quizzical. He did not answer for a moment. Finally, he said, ‘I don’t know, not really.’
‘It has occurred to me, from time to time, that you love architecture, and I know how intrigued you are about John Nash and his Regency buildings. Grandpa and I would be prepared to send you to school to be trained in architectural drawing, if you want that,’ Esther announced, and sat back in her chair, looking at him expectantly.
He shook his head vehemently. ‘No, I don’t want to be a draughtsman, Grans, but thank you for offering to send me to study – and you, too, Grandpapa. That’s generous of you.’ He was sincere, and this echoed in his voice.
‘What about school in general?’ Philip asked, leaning forward, his entire focus on his grandson. He was aware James was a special boy, highly intelligent, with the kind of class that was bred in the bone. He also had enormous charm and looks, and he was an achiever.
When James was silent, Philip added, ‘There is no pressure from us, James, but think about it, maybe something will come to you. We just want you to understand we are here to support you. The world is opening up for you.’
James nodded, looked at his grandfather intently, thinking how smart he was in his black jacket, pinstriped trousers, pristine white shirt and silver silk tie. The perfectly dressed butler.
His glance was now aimed at his grandmother, also well attired in a long, navy-blue skirt and matching blouse, with a white collar and cuffs. Her luxuriant silvery hair was piled up on top of her head. To him, she was the epitome of tailored elegance.
He knew she was fifty-six, but she didn’t look her age. And neither did his grandfather, who was now sixty. They have worn well, he thought, and suppressed a smile, wondering what they would say if he told them this.
Straightening in his chair, taking a deep breath, James decided to tell them the truth about his dreams. He plunged in. ‘I want to be a merchant,’ he confided. ‘By that I mean I want to own a shop like Fortnum and Mason, or an arcade of shops like the Burlington Arcade in Piccadilly. I want to be the most successful merchant in London! In the world!’ His voice had risen in his escalating excitement and, as he sat back, taking a deep breath, he realized his grandparents were staring at him in astonishment.
James loved his grandparents and he would never do anything to upset them, or disrespect them, but he had a mischievous streak in him and he was tickled that he had rendered them speechless for once in his life. He felt sudden laughter bubbling up inside him.
But he realized he dared not laugh, so he swallowed hard and tried to look serious. Taking a deep breath, he repeated, ‘Yes, I want to be a great merchant. That is truly my dream.’
‘How wonderful it is to have such a dream, James,’ his grandfather responded, the first one to break the silence. ‘Just as it’s important to know what you want to do with your life at an early age. Good for you, my boy.’
‘How are you going to make this dream come true?’ his grandmother asked, always down to earth and practical. James had certainly aroused her curiosity this morning with his announcement.
‘To answer your last question first, Grans, I can’t put my plan into operation just yet. I have to wait a couple of years. As for my plan, I really will make it work. And I shall strive very hard to make my dream come true. When I’m the right age.’
A smile of pleasure gleamed in Esther’s eyes. ‘That sounds very smart of you, and would you like to share your plan with us?’
‘Yes, I would …’ James stopped as Cook came into the staff hall carrying a tray, followed by Polly, one of the young housemaids.
Moving forward, her white apron billowing around her, Cook put the tray down at the other end of the table, brought a white ceramic dish over to his grandmother, and placed it on the table in front of her.
‘Here it is at last, Mrs Falconer, the cottage pie, and Polly has brought a bowl of peas, the gravy boat and the plates.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Grainger, and you, too, Polly,’
