The Second Son

  The Second Son

  Andy Blackman

  Contents

  Title Page

  The Second Son

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  Grenville St Louis Hampton, the eleventh Duke of Hampshire, second son, slowly came awake to the sound of someone chopping wood. It was a methodical chop; although his eyes were still closed, he knew it was daylight by the brightness of the sun seeping through his drawn curtains.

  Opening his eyes and quickly looking about, he was surprised to find himself in his own bed, at Hampton Hall. How this happened he was unsure, last night’s party in London was a blur – the last thing he remembered was trying to get into Lady Penelope Stanton’s panties. Although he was having a slight modicum of success, she still played hard ball, which to Grenville was an annoyance he was prepared to undergo.

  “Damn women” made him smile; being the son of a Duke allowed him access to all the right parties and the elite of the social circles, but he knew the rules as well as everyone else in the social circle. You can flirt and go so far but to fully commit you need the ring on the third finger. Stretching like a lion on a sunny afternoon on the open savannah of Africa, Grenville flung back the covers and sat on the end of the bed. His head was surprisingly clear, especially after the amount of champagne he had consumed; he thought to himself, perhaps I am finally becoming immune to the stuff. He looked over to where his clothes were neatly folded over a chair and smiled.

  Grenville had just finished his first year at Cambridge. His degree is in Land Economy, which was more for his parents than himself; being the second son he had to find his way in life, and even Grenville realised his parents was not going to fund his life style forever. But at the party one of his old-school friends, Jonathan Spencer, was talking about them going to Belize for the summer backpacking. Grenville during a drunken promise agreed to go with Jonathan, and all he had to do now was ask his parents to fund the trip. He was sure they would agree, just to have him out the way for the summer.

  He smiled as he was pondering how he had managed to get home, undress himself, neatly fold up his clothes and get into bed without remembering, when he heard a light knock on his door. “Come in,” he said, knowing it could not be his mother or father, the Duke and Duchess of Hampshire. They were too upper class to enter his bedroom themselves; in fact, since he had moved to the west wing, he did not even think his mother or father knew or had any idea where his bedroom was.

  The door slowly opened and Preston walked in with a tray, and a mug of steaming hot coffee. Preston put the tray down on the bedside cabinet, went over to the large windows and drew the curtains back; Grenville closed his eyes to the full glare of the sun. “Morning Master Grenville, sleep well?” asked Preston.

  “Yes, thank you Preston, like a log,” replied Grenville, laughing. This also brought a laugh from Preston. “Preston, how did I manage to get to my room?” said Grenville, opening his arms wide to encompass the room.

  “Some of the tenants were coming out of the railway tavern last night and saw you stagger from the night train from London. Seeing you were in no fit state to get back here under your own steam, they decided to bring you back to the Hall, where Mrs Preston and myself brought you to your room and put you to bed,” said Preston.

  “Preston, you and Mrs P are my guardian angels.” This brought another laugh from them both.

  “No doubt Mrs Preston will have have some breakfast in the kitchen, if you are hungry.” Said Preston.

  “Thank you, Preston, most kind,” said Grenville. As Preston turned to leave, Grenville asked, “Are my mother and father at home?”

  “The Duke is still sitting,” replied Preston, which meant Grenville’s father, the eleventh Duke of Hampshire, was still at the House of Lords sitting in chambers. “The Duchess is in the reading room and has requested your presence once you surface,” said Preston.

  “Thank you, Preston,” said Grenville, “please let my mother know I will be along post haste.”

  “Of course, Master Grenville,” replied Preston. As Preston left, Grenville, showered and dressed, sat in a chair and finished his coffee.

  Before going to see his mother, Grenville returned the empty mug to the kitchen, which was the hub of the hall. Grenville always loved the kitchen; it was where the hall’s heart and soul lived and breathed. Of all the seventy-eight rooms in Hampton Hall, the kitchen was his favourite.

  Smiling, Grenville went up behind Mrs Preston and put his arms around her, kissed her on the neck and whispered, “Morning Mrs P, when you going to leave that old bugger Preston and run away with me?”

  Mrs Preston gave a small shriek, and turned to face Grenville. “Be off with you, you’re a ruffian,” said Mrs Preston, laughing. Mr and Mrs Preston had been part of the family since Grenville was born; they had first served his late grandfather, the tenth Duke of Hampshire, as butler and cook. Now into their sixties, their only son had been killed in the war, so they treated Grenville like a surrogate son.

  “Hungry?” asked Mrs Preston.

  “Ravishing,” replied Grenville.

  “Sit yourself down and I will see if I can find you something to eat.” This brought a smile to Grenville’s face. It was one of Mrs Preston’s sayings: “see if I can find you something to eat.” Grenville could never remember a time when Mrs Preston had not supplied ample food in minutes. Mrs Preston placed a large English breakfast in front of Grenville, smiled and said, “Tuck in my dear; you look like you could do with it.” Sitting at the kitchen table, chatting with Mrs Preston, while eating his breakfast, Grenville caught up on all the family, Hall and estate gossip. The Preston’s knew everything and everyone, they were the centre of Hampton Hall; if you wanted to know anything you asked the Preston’s.

  After clearing his plate and returning it to the sink, Grenville kissed Mrs Preston, and said, “As always Mrs P, outstanding.” Mrs Preston shooed him off with her tea towel while smiling.

  Grenville made his way to the reading room. As he entered, his mother was sitting by the French windows bathed in sunlight reading a magazine. “Hello mother,” Grenville said, going over to his mother and leaning down to kiss her on the offered cheek.

  “Grenville, my darling, how are you?” asked his mother. “Come sit with me so I can take a good look at you.” Grenville sat next to his mother and smiled. She was still the most beautiful women that Grenville had ever seen, and it still amazed him how his father had managed to bag such a beauty. Grenville once asked her how she settled on his father, as she must have had many admirers when she was young; she had told him, “I had many suitors after my coming out ball, but the first time I saw your father he looked so handsome in his Army uniform, plus he looked like he needed a good woman,” which always made them both laugh. It was their private joke.

  “Very well, thank you mother,” said Grenville.

  “Now your first year of Cambridge is over have you decided what you are going to do for the summer?” asked his mother, placing the magazine on the table.

  “Mother, Jonathan Spencer is planning a trip to Belize backpacking, thought if I could squeeze a few pounds out of father, I would tag along for the ride, bit of further education, you might say,” said a smiling Grenville.

  His mother stared at him and looked him in the eyes and said, “I will have a word with your father, I am sure we can sort something.”

  “Thank you, mother,” said Grenville, leaning over and kissing her again on the cheek.

  “Your father will be coming down on Friday, with your brother,” said his mother, “so we expect you to attend the family dinner, we have special guests, the Farthings. They are staying for the weekend, as guests of your brother Stephan,” said his mother.

  “Oh
mother, do I have to?” pleaded Grenville.

  “Well, if you want to see Belize, I suggest you are the attentive son and you make this weekend pleasant for all,” smiled his mother.

  Sofia Newton-Jones was the only daughter and child of the Right Honourable James and Marcia Newton-Jones, and according to Grenville’s late grandfather, the late tenth Duke of Hampshire, “they were new money.” The marriage was agreeable to both families, but was more of a surprise to the late Duke that a beautiful outgoing lady like Sofia Newton-Jones could have settled on his only son, the serious and straight-laced James Julian Hampton, the tenth Earl of Eastleigh; then again women always were a mystery to the Duke, and he tended not to ponder on such topics.

  Sofia Newton-Jones had first met James Julian Hampton, the tenth Earl of Eastleigh, at a cocktail party a few months after her coming out ball. It was late November 1944 when she first spotted him; he was dressed in full military uniform, dressed as a colonel attached to the War Office stationed in Whitehall. The war had been raging for five years, but still Hitler could not stop the rounds of cocktail parties and social functions arranged by the upper classes. To cancel a social event was not British, and would send out the wrong message.

  Sofia asked her friend Daphnia Degut-White, who had escorted her to the function, who the young serious looking man in the military uniform was standing at the bar. Daphnia explained to Sofia who he was, and with a twinkle in her eye asked Sofia if she wanted her to present her to him. Surprisingly Sofia agreed, much to Daphnia’s shock, as she had only mentioned it as a jest; not for one moment did she imagine her outgoing friend Sofia Newton-Jones would be interested in the plain boring James Julian Hampton, tenth Earl of Eastleigh.

  Both Sofia and her friend Daphnia made their way to the bar, nodding and speaking as they went. Once at the bar, James had his back to both and did not see their arrival. Daphnia tapped James on the shoulder and said, “James, please may I present my dear friend, Sofia Newton-Jones, who recently came out.”

  James turned and stared at both ladies. James bowed deeply and said, “Nice to make your acquaintance.” Both held out their gloved hand to him. James had known Daphnia since childhood, so took her hand and quickly kissed her gloved hand, and said, “Daphnia, a pleasure as always.” James took Sofia’s hand and held it for a few moments before kissing it, all the time staring deeply into the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. Sofia stared back into his brown wide eyes, and smiled. James had fallen deeply in love and was lost for words, but managed to mumble out, “The pleasure is all mine, my lady.” Daphnia looked from Sofia to James, and knew a spark had been lit that would be hard to extinguish.

  There was a whirlwind courtship which was a surprise to some – Sofia was always talkative and outgoing, happy and carefree, where James was always quiet and serious, totally un-suited as a couple, as it had been pointed out on more than one occasion. But it was also pointed out that opposites do attract. The first-time James presented Sofia to his family, even his normally reserved mother the Duchess of Hampshire was impressed, but being a woman knew where Sofia was coming from, and knew as she did that Sofia saw something in her son James that others missed and he was worth investing in, and much to her husband’s surprise took to Sofia and welcomed her into the family. Later the Duke asked his wife what she thought of the match.

  “Perfect,” she said.

  “Not beneath him, then,” said the smiling Duke.

  “Not at all, a nice presentable young lady, I thought,” replied the Duchess.

  “Family is new money, not blue,” said the Duke.

  “Sometimes, Julian, you can be an awful snob,” said the Duchess, tutting. The Duke tried hard not to laugh at his wife, the most snobbish person he knew.

  The war finished the following May and they were married the following February. This was a chance to celebrate, after years of austerity, and the establishment did not disappoint. They were married in the local village church, which caused some delicate compromises on attendance for both sides, as they were aware to snub the wrong family member could cause future problems.

  As for the reception, it was held at Hampton Hall, the Hampton family’s ancestral home, so invitations were plentiful. The whole society elite were in attendance, including royalty, and the wedding would be talked about for many years as one of the most lavish and fun events since before the wretched war.

  James and Sofia moved into Hampton Hall. James was unsure after the war what he wanted to do, but with Sofia’s guidance James took to managing the family estate back up to its full potential, which impressed his father and mother. James introduced a new breed of dairy cow, and many new livestock breeds, James liaised with the tenant farmers on crop rotation and stock, making sure that the whole estate was covering the whole spectrum of farming.

  After a year, Sofia was pregnant, to the delight of James, but more so to his parents. Sofia gave birth to a fine heathy boy, which they called Stephan Albert. Three years later Sofia gave birth to another heathy boy which they called Grenville St Louis.

  Grenville only knew his grandfather, as the Duke’s wife, the Duchess, and his mother’s parents had all died before he was born. Grenville was very close to his maternal grandfather, and since he could walk he could be found sitting with him in his study listening to his stories about his exciting life and travel.

  Julian James Hampton, the tenth Duke of Hampshire, like Grenville was not the first born so was not expected to inherit, and so led a life of adventure that had Grenville captivated when he told him his stories. Grenville would sit for hours listening to his grandfather, only leaving when he fell asleep or was dragged away by his governess for food or bath.

  When Grenville was seven he asked his grandfather how, after all his adventures, he ended up as the present Duke. His grandfather explained that during World War One, everyone from the estate had mobilised for Kitchener’s army; this included his two older brothers and himself. After the war, had finished, the estate had been decimated of local men and his family had lost both his brothers, which had elevated him to the future Duke of Hampshire.

  “Did you ever want to say no, grandfather?” Grenville asked one day.

  His grandfather took his hand and said, “Follow me.” His grandfather led him into the great hall and pointed above the great fire place.

  As Grenville stared up, he asked, “What’s that, grandfather?”

  “That, child, is the family crest of arms and the family motto,” replied his grandfather.

  Grenville stared at the impressive large shield with a yellow background and a large black eagle clutching a lightning bolt in the middle. “What do the words mean, grandfather?” asked Grenville.

  “Officium antequam glorificetur; Duty before honour,” said his grandfather. “Those words are what us Hamptons have lived by for countless generations,” explained his grandfather. “If you are called upon to do your duty, young Grenville, then the family will expect you to do so.” Grenville stood nodding his head seriously, while his grandfather smiled down at him.

  Grenville and his brother Stephan were never close. Grenville on many occasions tried to engage his brother and have a brotherly relationship with him, but for some reason his brother did not want to spend any time with him. One day Grenville, asked his grandfather about his brother. His grandfather placed Grenville on his knee and said, “Grenville, my boy, it’s not you, it’s your brother. After I have gone, he will be in line to inherit the title and the estate. Some find the prospect exciting and some, it fills them with fear and dread. Your brother is the latter. And with that fear, he will compensate it with his snobbish attitude, as if everyone was put on this earth to serve him. He reminds me of my later brother Arthur, he was the same as your brother.” Grenville nodded, not really understanding his brother’s attitude.

  When Grenville was nine his brother Stephan was sent to Rayleigh boarding school, to follow in the family tradition of always being educated at Rayleigh then onwards to Cambr
idge. When Stephan left for Rayleigh School, Grenville was standing with his grandfather who stood lined up outside the house with the rest of the staff to say farewell to Master Stephan. Stephan shook Grenville’s and his grandfather hand’s but did not speak before he got into the car with his parents; his grandfather said, “Pompous ass,” only loud enough for Grenville to hear, but Grenville smiled and agreed. He was still unsure what a pompous ass was, but he would be sure to ask his grandfather later.

  Three years later it was Grenville’s turn to attend Rayleigh School, but unlike his brother’s departure, most of the staff was sorry to see him go. Grenville then clung onto his grandfather, and sobbed, before his father had to physical drag him to the car. Grenville looked out of the rear windows and saw his grandfather waving after him. Grenville waved back with tears in his eyes. On the drive, up to Rayleigh School, his father gave him a list of things to remember, while his mother sat holding his hand also with tears in her eyes. On arrival at Rayleigh School the grounds were full of cars, with parents taking their offspring to school for the first time. Grenville knew that this was a one off; next time, only the chauffeur and his brother Stephan would take him back to school.

  Grenville followed his mother and father up the steps into the great hall. The progress was slow as periodically his parents would stop to speak to other parents. Eventually up on the stage a man appeared wearing a black gown, asked for calm, and immediately the room went silent. “Welcome my Lords, Ladies and gentlemen and distinguished guests. I am Mr Yates, Headmaster of Rayleigh School for Boys, and it is a particular pleasure to welcome you all here today with the new intake for Rayleigh School.” Scanning the room and smiling, the Headmaster said, “I can see looking around the hall, that most of you are returning with your own offspring.” This brought laughter from the room. “Please can you register your son’s name at one of the reception desks, they will then be give their house allocation. Thank you for your patience, and once again, welcome.”