Intrigue (Daughters of Mannerling 2) (19 page)

Angry tears filled Abigail’s blue eyes. It was too bad of Jessica. So thoughtless! So uncaring!

And then she thought of Isabella. And this time she would not hint. She would state her desires in broad terms.

Isabella, Lady Fitzpatrick, was at her home in Ireland. She and her husband had been staying with friends in a neighbouring county and so it was a week after Abigail’s letter arrived that she sat down to read it.

‘Faith, my love,’ she said to her husband. ‘Here’s a coil. Abigail wishes me to take a house in London and present her. She says if I do not do so, I will be the most selfish person in the world.’

Lord Fitzpatrick surveyed his wife. ‘Does Abigail know that you are expecting our second child?’

‘I can only assume it has slipped her memory. Dear me! Such an
angry
letter. She says she is so bored and unhappy. Why does she not apply to Mama? You have sent Mama so much money since we were married.’

‘Perhaps she has taken up gambling like her late husband?’

‘God forbid! I know. I shall write to Barry Wort and ask him what is really going on at home. Mama could well afford by now to take a house for the Season. And Jessica wrote to me to say that Robert had sent her very generous sums of money.’

‘I do not know that we can begin to question Lady Beverley about what she has done with our gifts. Write to Barry by all means.’

‘And what shall I write to Abigail?’

‘She is obviously bored and restless. Suggest that she and her twin come here for a stay. Plenty of young men to keep them amused.’

Abigail, on receiving this second rejection, did not rage or fume. She accepted it with a sad dignity. She felt she was being punished for being too vain and worldly. The weather had improved.

She decided to settle down and attend to her studies. She did not want to go to Ireland. She felt ashamed now of her demands. Her sisters appeared happy and content because they had accepted their situation.

Miss Trumble accepted this new and changed Abigail with relief. She decided it was time to broach the subject of balls and parties for them. Lady Beverley must do something. But Lady Beverley when appealed to exclaimed at the expense that would incur. ‘They will be demanding new gowns,’ she complained. ‘We must economise.’

In vain did the governess protest and say that she would make over their gowns, that she herself would take the girls on calls to neighbouring households. ‘I am busy,’ Lady Beverley replied curtly. ‘Go away. You are hired to school the girls, and so I suggest you go about it.’

Miss Trumble was just turning away, defeated, when she saw Barry signalling to her outside the parlour window. She went outside and joined him.

‘Walk around the back of the house with me,’ urged Barry. ‘I have strange news.’

Wondering, Miss Trumble walked with him to the pleasant-smelling kitchen garden. Barry pulled a letter out of his coat. ‘This here is from Miss Isabella, I mean Lady Fitzpatrick. Do but read it.’

Miss Trumble read the letter carefully and then looked at Barry in amazement. ‘According to this, Lady Beverley should have plenty of money and yet we all have to scrimp and save. Why is she hoarding it? What for?’

‘I reckon,’ said Barry heavily, ‘that the lady may have incurred debts she is not talking about.’

‘Lady Beverley,’ said Miss Trumble, tapping the letter impatiently, ‘discusses every debt from the butcher to the baker to the candlestickmaker, loudly and often. She would not keep anything back. Unless . . .’

‘Unless what, miss?’

‘Mannerling! Lady Beverley has been closeted with that Mr Ducket. He has probably been investing it for her, turning money into more money.’

‘What has that to do with Mannerling?’

‘Don’t you see? She wants to buy it back!’

‘But it would take years to accumulate enough.’

‘Lady Beverley is mad enough to think she can do it. I’ll swear that is the case. We have work to do, Barry. I shall defeat that wretched house if it is the last thing I do! I’ll make Lady Beverley loose the purse strings. My girls shall not be made to suffer.’ The Beverley sisters had, thought Barry sadly, indeed become Miss Trumble’s girls, for their own mother appeared to have forgotten their very existence.