An Unusual Bequest (7 page)

Lizzie and Fanny were at their lessons but, like the servants, they were unsettled and unable to concentrate. Miss Quinn was nearly as bad; she kept glancing towards the door, as if she expected trouble to walk through it. Charlotte smiled reassuringly. ‘I shall be in my room, if you want me,’ she said. ‘I’ll come and see you again before I go down to dinner.’

‘We won’t have to come down again, will we?’ Lizzie asked.

‘No, now your uncle has met you, I think he is satisfied you are being well cared for.’

She was becoming a liar in her efforts to keep everyone happy. Did that mean she was weak? She went back to her room and sat at her desk where she spent the time before dinner drawing up lists. And then she endured that meal in the company of men who would never have been entertained by the late Lord Hobart and afterwards left them to their drinking and retired to her own room. It was not as comfortable nor as well appointed as the one she was used to, but at least it was away from the guest rooms and near her children. She felt as if she had been relegated to the status of a servant and fervently prayed Mr Hardacre would help her to do something about it.

He was talking to the Reverend Fuller when she arrived in the church the following morning, but as soon she appeared, the Reverend bade her good morning and left them.

‘I am sorry to keep you in Parson’s End longer than you intended,’ she told the lawyer. She was dressed in her usual mourning silk, over which she had put her black wool cloak; even though it was late March, the days were still not warm enough to dispense with it and, here in this quiet village, fashion seemed not to matter; other things were more important. ‘But I am in something of a quandary.’

‘I think I understand.’

‘You do?’ She sat in one of the pews and motioned him to sit too.

‘I cannot imagine that you want to stay at Easterley Manor. It was once such a happy home when Lady Hobart was alive and the boys were young…’

‘It was still so until quite recently,’ she said. ‘My father-in-law’s passing changed everything. I do not think I shall be able to deal comfortably with the new Lord Hobart. We do not view things in quite the same way. And I understand he is planning to marry.’ She was trying to put it diplomatically. Lord Hobart was his client; it would not help to complain of his behaviour. ‘I must make other arrangements.’

‘What had you in mind?’

‘A school. If I had a house large enough to turn into a small school, where I could take fee-paying young ladies—’

‘But, my dear Lady Hobart, how can you contemplate such a thing? Your husband was a baronet in his own right and you come from a noble family—such a thing is hardly fitting.’

‘I enjoy teaching.’

‘I am sure you do and the Reverend has been telling me all about your work among the children, but teaching them as an act of charity is not the same as asking to be paid for it.’

She gave a strangled laugh. ‘You sound like Cecil, as if the very mention of the word money is a profanity. Unfortunately it is a necessary evil, especially when you do not have any.’

‘Surely it is not as bad as that? Is there no one?’

‘No one,’ she said firmly, dismissing the idea of applying to Lord Falconer as impractical. ‘When Sir Grenville died, I was bereft and leaned very heavily on Lord Hobart. He was a kind man, he knew I had to do things my way, and so he allowed me all the freedom I wanted. It was as if Grenville had already become master of Easterley Manor and I, as his widow, was carrying on. Lord Hobart kept in the background, happy to have his grandchildren about him. I and my children have lost all that.’ She blinked rapidly, trying to prevent the tears falling.

‘I see,’ he said, though she was not at all sure that he did.

‘Then are you able to help me?’

‘To find you a school?’

‘More than that. To lend me the money to set it up.’

‘Oh.’ He looked startled. ‘You meant it when you said you had no money?’

‘I have three guineas and some smaller change. And some of that must go to pay the doctor for the treatment he gave one of my little pupils yesterday.’

He was shocked. ‘My lady, I had no idea. How can that be? You had the portion Sir Grenville settled on you when you married. I know it was not much, but he never expected to die so young and, in any case, he knew his father would look after you.’

‘I had no idea I ought to save it, Mr Hardacre. I spent it on things for the village school: slates, chalk, books, and clothes and medicines for any who needed them. They have so little and since the war their plight has become worse and worse. I often think it would do those who make the laws in this country a great deal of good to have to live among its people. They might learn the meaning of true poverty.’ She paused and drew a deep breath before going on. ‘That’s as may be. What I had has gone.’

‘I am appalled. Your daughters…’

‘They want for nothing at the moment, but they are not happy at the Manor now and I must find a way to provide for them.’

‘But you would need collateral if I am to approach a bank on your behalf.’

‘I have none.’ She paused. ‘I have a little jewellery: the pearls my father gave me on my come-out, an emerald necklace that was a present from my husband to mark our betrothal and the two little brooches, one of amethysts, the other of garnets, that he gave me on the birth of our daughters. I have no idea of their worth; I never thought of them as assets, but as keepsakes.’

‘My dear Lady Hobart, surely it has not come to such a pass?’

‘I am sorry, I have embarrassed you, but, believe me, it is no greater than the embarrassment I feel being obliged to ask.’

‘Do not think of it.’ He looked thoughtful for a moment. She must certainly be helped to leave Easterley Manor and whether she went ahead with her school idea or not, she needed money. Cecil Hobart would never provide her with any. ‘As you know, Lord Hobart left money in trust for your daughters,’ he said slowly. ‘It was intended to be for their come-out and dowries and any expenditure the trustees felt necessary for their well-being. I think such an occasion has arisen. I will put it to them and let you know what they say. How much do you think you will need?’

‘It depends how much I have to pay to rent a house, and how long before fee-paying pupils arrive, but I have worked out some rough figures.’ She took two folded sheets of paper from her reticule and handed them to him. ‘Do you think the trustees will agree?’

‘When I put the position to them, I think they will. The welfare of your daughters must come before all other considerations and their welfare is not best served living at Easterley Manor.’ It was as near as he was going to go to admitting he knew what Cecil was like. ‘Can you sit tight for a week or two until you hear from me?’

‘Yes. I am not a child, Mr Hardacre, I can stand up for myself, and there are plenty of good, kind people up at the house to keep an eye on the girls, though I rarely let them out of my sight.’ She paused. ‘May I begin looking for a house?’

‘Yes, I see no reason why you should not. But you will not be able to sign a lease or anything like that, not until I have obtained the consent of the trustees.’

‘I understand.’

He rose. ‘If you walk back to the Dog and Fox with me, I will advance you a few guineas. I carry very little with me because of the fear of highwaymen, but I have a little in a strong box stowed under the seat of my coach. I have to pay my reckoning at the inn and for horses and meals on my return journey to London, which is a prodigious amount, but you are welcome to what I do not need.’

‘Thank you. I will repay you as soon as I can.’

He reached across and patted the back of her hand, which had been anxiously twisting the cord of her reticule. ‘I know you will. I wish all my clients were as particular.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘But as I usually hold the purse strings and can expedite or delay at my pleasure, the situation usually resolves itself.’

‘Is Lord Hobart going to have his father’s will overturned, Mr Hardacre?’ she asked suddenly. ‘He said he would.’

‘He would like to try, but I pointed out to him that, apart from the estate, there was not a great deal of unentailed money for him to draw on and, if he took that course, the only people to gain would be the lawyers. I think he saw my point.’

‘So he must marry money and have children.’ Cecil’s children, being the old man’s grandchildren, would share the legacy of her daughters.

‘I believe that is his intention. He spoke about you. He asked me if it was lawful to marry a half-brother’s widow.’

‘I cannot believe he was in earnest. But even if he were, I would not marry that man at any price.’

Feeling much more cheerful, she rose and they walked side by side out of the church and down the village street to the inn. They passed the smithy on the way and she noticed the stranger’s beautiful white horse was no longer there. Did that mean he had taken her advice and left Parson’s End? She wished she could get rid of those two toad-eaters still at the Manor as easily.

She was on her way home, with five guineas tucked safely into her reticule, when she was obliged to jump back into the hedge as two carriages came rattling along the narrow lane without a care for others on the road. Each had its full complement of passengers. She had no doubt that the first of Cecil’s guests had arrived. By the time she arrived at the front door of the house, they were disgorging themselves and their luggage, shaking Cecil by the hand and being greeted by Sir Roland and Mr Spike like old friends.

She wished she could have nothing to do with them, but boycotting them was not a good idea, she decided. Until she heard from Mr Hardacre, she and her children, not to mention the servants, were at the mercy of her brother-in-law and it behoved her to try and keep the peace. But she would be very wary, polite but aloof, and if they thought she was top-lofty, what did it matter?

There were, she discovered, when she made her way into the hall, several ladies among the men; all were overdressed, all noisy. They had servants with them, and coachmen who needed accommodation. Charlotte instructed Foster to tell them where to go and concentrated on the guests.

‘My sister-in-law,’ Cecil said, waving his hand vaguely in her direction. ‘She is housekeeping for me, so anything you need, ask her.’

‘Ladies. Gentlemen.’ Not by the flicker of an eyelid did she betray her consternation. ‘If you will allow me a moment to take off my cloak and bonnet, I will show you to your rooms.’ She divested herself of her outer garments and handed them with her reticule to Miss Quinn who hovered in the background. She went to lead the way when another guest strolled from the drawing room to join them. He stopped before her, smiling. ‘Cecil,’ he drawled. ‘Introduce me to the lady.’

The plain clothes of the day before had gone. Now he was dressed in the height of elegance. His shirt collar had extravagant points, his starched cravat was intricately tied, his coat of blue superfine fitted his broad shoulders as if he had been poured into it and his pantaloons, tucked into shining Hessians, emphasised well-muscled legs.

‘Lady Hobart,’ Cecil said. ‘Allow me to present Viscount Stacey Darton.’

Stacey took her hand and bowed over it. ‘Lady Hobart, your servant.’ He brought the hand to his lips and as his head came up, murmured. ‘Is that polite enough for you, my lady?’

‘My lord.’ She managed to bend her knee and incline her head slightly without falling over, but the sight of him, so different from the man she had met in the village, was doing strange things to her limbs. She was shaking like an aspen, which was a ridiculous state of affairs, she chided herself. She had already half-guessed he was one of Cecil’s cronies and should not have been surprised to see him. Only she had so hoped she was wrong, that he was a true gentleman. It was strangely disappointing.

‘The company begins to improve,’ Sir Roland said, laughing. ‘A Viscount, no less. Cecil, you are a dark horse. Why did you not say his lordship was to grace us with his presence?’

‘I thought it might be a pleasant surprise,’ Cecil said, smirking. He went on to name his friends to Stacey, but Charlotte was not listening; she did not think it was necessary to know the names of these people. The less she saw of them the better.

‘Have you brought a partner, my lord?’ Augustus wanted to know.

‘No, I am alone, sir. I find females distracting when there is serious play to be had.’

‘But a pleasant distraction, eh, Cousin Stacey?’ Cecil said and dug him in the ribs, evincing a quickly stifled recoil of distaste from Stacey.

The women laughed and one sidled up to him and smiled. She was on the plump side and her bosom was straining at the low neckline of her dress. Her hair was arranged in a complicated coiffure topped with feathers dyed blue and pink. She wore a glittering necklace and rings on almost every finger. ‘I shall take pleasure in distracting you, my lord. But not until after the game.’

He laughed and pinched her cheek. ‘No doubt you will. Lady Grey, is it not?’

‘Oh, do not be so formal, my lord. My name is Adelia. I give you permission to use it.’

He bowed slightly. ‘Adelia, I shall remember that.’

It was all too much for Charlotte; she felt sickened and curiously let down, as if she had expected better of the Viscount. He had been a much nicer person as a simple horseman, even if he did tease. ‘Ladies. Gentlemen,’ she said loudly, to be heard above the chatter and banter that was filling the hall. ‘If you follow me I will conduct you to your apartments. Later there will be a light repast in the dining room to refresh you after your journey. We usually dine at five.’

‘Five!’ one of the men said. He was dressed in a ridiculous coat with a velvet collar that stood up around his ears, a yellow-and-brown striped waistcoat and a spotted cravat. ‘Great God! I’m hardly out of bed by then. It ain’t civilised.’

‘Shut up, Reggie,’ one of the women told him. Her thin dress, with its low scooped neckline and puffed sleeves, was almost transparent. ‘It will give us a longer evening, more time to relieve our host of his blunt.’

So they had come to gamble. Charlotte was hardly surprised, but she wondered what the outcome might be if Cecil lost heavily. She strode between them purposefully and led the way upstairs, flinging open doors on the first-floor landing and telling them she hoped they would be comfortable.