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Scandal At Greystone Manor
Mary Nichols


WHAT COULD BE MORE SHOCKING THAN THE TRUTH?Jane Cavenhurst is happy on her own. She really is.But as her hapless sister’s wedding to the handsome Mark Wyndham nears, the protective barriers covering her deeply buried secret begin to shatter – for Jane has loved Mark for years.But that’s not Jane’s only problem! The Cavenhursts are in debt to the villainous Lord Bolsover and he has his sights firmly set on her! When Mark realises his true feelings he knows he shouldn’t be the one going to Jane’s rescue, but he can’t stop himself. In fact he’ll fight Bolsover, the ton and the scandal to win what his heart most desires!









Somehow the day was got through, with Isabel white-faced and their aunt flitting about trying to be helpful.


Jane was glad when all the preparations were complete and she could go to bed. She undressed and crept between the sheets, but sleep eluded her. She was committed to persuading her sister to go ahead with the marriage, because not to do so would be unkind to the man Jane loved and cause him distress.

And it would upset her parents. On top of his money worries, it might very well kill her father. Money worries. If only Teddy had not gambled so heavily. If only her sister had not flirted with Andrew Ashton. If only she herself did not love Mark quite so much. Dear Mark. He did not deserve to be embroiled in scandal from any direction. How was it all going to end?




Author Note


The quandary central to my main characters may seem strange to modern readers, who would not hesitate to break off an engagement if they realised the love they had hoped for was missing, but in the period in which my story is set the social mores were different. Love was not the only or even the main reason for marrying. Title, wealth, status, the wishes of one’s family and the need to keep an unbroken hierarchy all played a part. Divorce was only for the very wealthy and required an Act of Parliament, and an engagement was a solemn undertaking. A lady might brave the censure of Society and break her promise to marry, but a gentleman never could. It was a dishonourable thing to do and laid him open to being shunned by Society as a man who could not be trusted to keep his word.

My story is a love story, and my hero and heroine are deeply in love, but the customs of the time prevent them from being together. She has her loyalty to her family and he has his honour, both of which must be satisfied before they can have the happy ending we all look for.


Scandal at

Greystone

Manor

Mary Nichols






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Born in Singapore, MARY NICHOLS came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, a school secretary, an information officer and an industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children and four grandchildren.

Previous novels by the same author:

RAGS-TO-RICHES BRIDE

THE EARL AND THE HOYDEN

CLAIMING THE ASHBROOKE HEIR

(part of The Secret Baby Bargain) HONOURABLE DOCTOR, IMPROPER ARRANGEMENT THE CAPTAIN’S MYSTERIOUS LADY* (#ulink_23300c26-d426-5f67-97f3-5a5b42394b42) THE VISCOUNT’S UNCONVENTIONAL BRIDE* (#ulink_23300c26-d426-5f67-97f3-5a5b42394b42) LORD PORTMAN’S TROUBLESOME WIFE* (#ulink_23300c26-d426-5f67-97f3-5a5b42394b42) SIR ASHLEY’S METTLESOME MATCH* (#ulink_23300c26-d426-5f67-97f3-5a5b42394b42) WINNING THE WAR HERO’S HEART THE CAPTAIN’S KIDNAPPED BEAUTY* (#ulink_23300c26-d426-5f67-97f3-5a5b42394b42) IN THE COMMODORE’S HANDS* (#ulink_23300c26-d426-5f67-97f3-5a5b42394b42)

* (#ulink_fcd60aac-be6d-502b-93c6-6e8772c37890)The Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club mini-series

And available through Mills & Boon


Historical eBooks:

WITH VICTORIA’S BLESSING

(part of Royal Weddings Through the Ages)

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk


Contents

Chapter One (#u8dce01ed-4c39-518f-8a21-19970145a09f)

Chapter Two (#u6fb88a55-babf-563d-888d-ba759c1d8008)

Chapter Three (#u19769f18-aa07-583b-8bcd-407c937c671d)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

April 1817

‘Stand still, Issie, do,’ Jane said. ‘How can I pin this hem if you will keep dodging from one foot to the other? And stop admiring yourself in the mirror. We all know what a beautiful bride you will make.’

It had taken weeks of indecision about colour and style before the heavy cerise silk had been bought and then they could not decide on who was to make it up. ‘You do it,’ Isabel had told her sister. ‘You are every bit as good a seamstress as any London mantua-maker and a great deal better than poor Miss Smith.’

Jane laughed at the compliment. ‘Very well, but we’ll ask Miss Smith to do the plain stitching. She could do with the work.’ The elderly spinster came from the village three times a week to make petticoats for the ladies as well as repair torn garments and mend the household linen.

Jane had been doing as much as possible towards the wedding to save a little on the expense. Her mother was determined it would be the wedding of the year, in spite of Sir Edward’s pleas they should not be too extravagant. Jane was perhaps the only one of the family to take any notice of him, but that did not mean Isabel’s wedding would be anything less than perfect if she could help it. She had taken great pains with the gown, making sure it fitted perfectly. It had the fashionable high waist, long sleeves, loose at the top but tight from the elbow down, a heart-shaped neckline and a flowing skirt, trimmed with lace and embroidered with white-and-pink roses. All that was left to do now was stitch up the hem and add the decoration to the neckline and sleeves—yards of ribbon and lace, interspersed with tiny coloured beads. Sewn on by hand with minute invisible stitches, they were going to take some time to do. She did not begrudge the time, nor her sister her happiness, not even at the sacrifice of her own.

Isabel was to marry Mark Wyndham, heir to Lord Wyndham, who lived with his parents less than three miles away at Broadacres. The families had known each other for years and often visited each other, so the girls and their brother had grown up in close proximity and there was no formality between them. A marriage between Mark and Isabel had been talked about for years as if it were a foregone conclusion, though Mark had not formally proposed until he came back from the Peninsular War, where he had distinguished himself as an aide to Sir Arthur Wellesley, now the Duke of Wellington. The engagement pleased both families and it had relieved the girls’ father, who did not want Isabel to go the way of Jane and become an old maid. To have two unmarried daughters was not good for his self-esteem, and nor, come to that, his pocket.

Jane was perhaps the only one of the family, apart from her father, who realised that they were living beyond their means, trying to maintain a status and lifestyle not commensurate with income. The estate was run down, fences needed mending, ditches needed cleaning out, some of the cottages needed repairs and the house itself was in urgent need of refurbishment. Greystone Manor was a lovely old house, solidly built to withstand the ravages of the east wind that blew in off the German Ocean, but that didn’t stop it being draughty. Its large withdrawing room was icy in winter and cool in summer; its huge kitchens and dairy with their stone floors were hard on the servants’ feet. The family tended to use the smaller parlour as a sitting room and the breakfast room as a dining room except on formal occasions. Today the girls were working in Isabel’s bedchamber, whose window overlooked the front drive. Outside the spring sunshine was warm and inviting and everyone hoped that this year there might be a good harvest, which would make up for the terrible failure of the year before.

‘There, that’s done,’ Jane said. ‘You can take it off now and I’ll get Miss Smith to stitch the hem while I gather the flounces for the skirt.’

She helped Isabel out of the gown and carefully folded it ready for the seamstress when she came that afternoon.

Isabel hugged her. ‘You are so good, Jane, I wish I could be more like you. You are clever at whatever you do, sewing, cooking, managing the servants and you have such a way with the village children. You ought to be getting married, too, and having children of you own.’

‘We can’t all be wives, Issie.’ At twenty-seven, everyone, including Jane herself, knew she was well past marriageable age. Her role in life was to be a helpmate to her mother, to busy herself with the arrangements for her sister’s wedding, to calm her other sister’s excitable nature and try to curb her brother Teddy’s profligacy. Added to her good works in the nearby village of Hadlea, it was enough to keep her occupied. She had little time to bemoan her single state.

‘But you must wish for it sometimes?’

‘Not really. I am content with my life.’

‘Did you never have an offer?’

Jane smiled, but did not answer. There had been someone once, ten years before, but it had come to nothing. Her father had disapproved on the grounds that the young man had no title and no fortune, no family of any standing and no prospects. She could do better than that, he’d told her. But she never had and the only other man she had come to have feelings for had not reciprocated and her foolishness was a deeply held secret which she had never told a soul. She was not beautiful and, compared with her younger sisters, she was plain Jane.

How their parents had managed to produce three girls so different from each other, Jane could not fathom. Jane and Isabel were both dark haired, but there the similarity ended. Jane was taller than average; she had strong features, well-defined brows and a determined chin. Isabel, six years younger than Jane, was considered the beauty of the family. She was a little shorter and more curvaceous than Jane, and her face was rounder and very expressive; she was not one to hide her feelings. Tears and temper were often displayed, but she soon recovered and became her usual sunny self. Jane was more circumspect and kept her feelings to herself. As for Sophie, she was fair-haired and blue-eyed and, at seventeen, had not yet shed what her mother chose to call her puppy fat.

‘I am doing the right thing?’ Isabel asked suddenly, sinking on to her bed in her petticoat.

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘Marrying Mark.’

‘You are surely not having doubts now, Issie?’

‘It’s such a big step. I keep wondering if I shall make him happy, or if I shall be content with him.’

‘But you have known him all your life. You know he is tall and handsome, that he is thoughtful and considerate, that he has deep pockets and likes nothing better than to indulge you. What more can you ask?’

‘That’s just it. Perhaps I know him too well. And perhaps I’ve missed someone else, someone for whom I could feel the grand passion.’

‘Isabel, you are talking nonsense, the grand passion is a myth, dreamed up by romantics. It’s much better to marry someone dependable, someone you know won’t let you down.’ Isabel’s sudden doubts were having a strange effect on Jane. It had taken all her resolve to wish her sister happy when the engagement had been announced and she had entered into the preparations for the wedding with as much whole-hearted enthusiasm as she could muster. Her sister’s doubts worried her.

‘Mark is dependable, that’s true,’ Isabel said. ‘But he is almost like another brother.’

‘Mark is nothing like a brother.’

‘No, of course not. I’m being silly. He’s not a bit like Teddy, is he?’

‘God forbid! One of Teddy is enough.’

They laughed at this and the tension eased. Jane helped her sister into her day dress and was just brushing her hair and tying it back with a ribbon when they heard the sound of someone arriving. Isabel jumped up and went to the window to see who it might be. ‘It’s Teddy,’ she said. ‘My goodness, where did he get that coat? He looks like a bumble bee.’

Jane joined her sister at the window. Their brother, three years younger than Jane and three years older than Isabel, had just descended from the gig he had hired at the Fox and Hounds, where the stage from London had no doubt deposited him not half an hour since. The coat Isabel had commented on was of yellow-and-brown stripes. It had a cutaway skirt and deep revers. His trousers were fawn and his waistcoat yellow with red spots. ‘Papa will have something to say about that,’ she said.

They were descending the stairs as a servant opened the door to admit him. He flourished a brown beaver topper at them both. ‘Jane, Isabel, I hope I find you both well.’

‘Very well,’ Jane said.

‘Where did you get that extraordinary coat?’ Isabel demanded.

‘Gieves, where else? Do you like it?’ He twirled to show it off. ‘Where is Papa? I need to talk to him. Is he in a good mood?’

‘Oh, Teddy, do not say you have come to wheedle money out of him?’ Jane said. ‘You know what he said the last time.’

‘Well, a fellow can’t live decent on what I earn at Halliday’s.’ Halliday and Son was an eminent firm of lawyers who had a practice in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Teddy had gone to them after leaving university at the behest of his father, who did not believe his son should pass his days in idleness. He was still very junior and could not command the large fees his mentors did.

‘Then take a little advice from me, Brother,’ Jane went on. ‘Change that coat and waistcoat before you see him. It will not help your cause.’

‘Wise words, as always, Jane,’ he said. ‘I’ll go up to my room and put on something drab.’ He picked up his portmanteau from the floor where he had dropped it and ran up the stairs two at a time.

‘He doesn’t change, does he?’ Isabel said.

‘No, unfortunately. I fear we are in for an uncomfortable dinner time.’

* * *

In that she was right. Even though Teddy had changed into a dark grey coat and a white cravat and waistcoat, he had evidently not been successful with their father. He was resentful, Sir Edward was angry and Lady Cavenhurst upset. Jane and Isabel tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere by talking about the wedding and the doings in the village and were only partly successful, not helped by Sophie demanding to know what was the matter with everyone, why the gloomy faces. ‘Anyone would think there had been a death in the family,’ she said.

‘Death of me,’ Teddy said morosely, which made his father snort derisively and his mother draw in her breath in distress. But no one commented and they continued to eat their roast beef in a silence broken only when someone asked politely for the sauce boat or the salt cellar.

* * *

After the meal ended, the ladies repaired to the withdrawing room, where a maid brought in the tea tray. ‘Is Papa very angry with Teddy?’ Jane asked their mother as they arranged themselves on sofas.

‘He is more disappointed than angry,’ her ladyship said. She was still a handsome woman, with an upright figure which belied her forty-nine years. ‘Teddy promised him he would limit his extravagance, but it seems not to have happened. But we will not talk of it. No doubt it will be resolved somehow.’ It was typical of their mother to shut her eyes to problems in the firm belief someone else would solve them.

They had not been seated many minutes when Sir Edward and Teddy joined them, but Teddy soon made his excuses to leave. Jane rose and followed him. ‘Teddy,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘Are matters very ill with you?’

‘Couldn’t be worse. And the old man refuses to stand buff.’

‘Oh, dear, what will you do?’ They strolled into the book room where there was a comfortable sofa and sat down side by side.

‘I don’t know what to do. You can’t help me out, can you, Sis?’

‘How much do you owe?’

‘Well...’ He seemed reluctant to go on. ‘It’s mostly gaming debts and they simply have to be paid.’

‘Go on, how much?’

‘Five thousand or thereabouts.’

‘Five thousand! Oh, Teddy, how did that come about?’

‘You know how it is—you win some and you lose some and I kept thinking I would recoup. Luck was against me.’

‘Who do you owe the money to?’

‘Lord Bolsover holds the biggest of my gambling debts, about three thousand. He’s the one making the most noise about it. There are a couple of others. Gieves and Hoby and the vintner can wait.’

‘Wait for what? Until you have another winning streak? And I would have thought it was more important to pay your tailor and bootmaker who have a living to make. Gaming debts are not enforceable by law. You should know that, working in a law firm as you do.’

‘All the more reason to pay them. It is a question of honour.’

‘Honour! Teddy, if you had any honour you would heed poor Papa, who has always done his best for you. He is not made of money, you know.’

‘So he told me.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘He suggests I find myself a rich wife, preferably a widow, old enough and independent enough to curb my excesses.’

Jane could not help laughing and was relieved to see a slight twitch of her brother’s lips in response. ‘He only said that because he was cross with you.’

‘He was in earnest, Jane.’

‘You do not like the idea?’

‘Oh, I like it well enough, always supposing the wealth came with a pretty face and figure. But where am I going to find such a one who’ll have me? Even if I did, it would take time and I haven’t got the time. Hector Bolsover wants his blunt.’

‘Oh, Teddy, what a mess you are in.’

‘I know. Can you help me out?’

‘Where do you think I can find so much money?’

‘You still have the bequest Aunt Matilda left you, haven’t you?’

‘That is meant to be my dowry.’

‘But, Jane, you are never going to marry, are you?’

Only a brother would be so blunt. It hurt, but she didn’t show it. ‘Maybe not, but I have other plans for my inheritance.’

‘More important than rescuing your only brother from the River Tick?’

She sighed heavily. She had a dream of opening an orphanage for some of the children of men lost in the recent war. The idea had come about when she had been in London the year before. She had seen some ragged, barefoot children running about the streets begging and when she spoke to one of them, to the dismay of her mother who had accompanied her, she was told a tale which made her heart bleed for him. His father had been killed in a battle in far-off Portugal, his mother had been forced into service where children were not welcome and because she was obliged to live in, she had to give up the tenancy of their two tiny rooms. He slept in doorways or under the trees in the park. ‘I do well enough,’ he told her, holding out his hand for money.

How many more were there like that? she had asked herself, how many children were there without homes, without adequate clothing and enough to eat? ‘Surely the government should do something about them,’ she had said to her mother, as they left the child clutching a sixpence. ‘Their fathers fought for king and country and that is how they are rewarded. It’s a disgrace.’

‘I do not see what we can do about it.’

‘We can speak to Sir Mortimer for a start.’ Sir Mortimer Belton was their local Member of Parliament. ‘If the problem is put to him, he might bring it up in Parliament. We could make a fuss, bring it to the public’s attention. Raise a subscription to provide the children with homes.’

‘Oh, dear,’ her mother had said. ‘That sounds like a crusade.’

And a crusade it had become, but trying to make the government move was like tickling a tortoise. Jane had decided that she must set an example—not on a grand scale, she could not afford that, but she could do something locally. A small boarding school for about a dozen orphans of soldiers in their own vicinity was what she had in mind. It might encourage others to do the same in their own localities. The five thousand pounds she had would not be enough and she had enlisted the help of the Rector, the Reverend Mr Henry Caulder and his wife, to raise funds. They had decided that the best way to do it was to find philanthropic sponsors. To encourage them, she would put her own money into the venture, she had told them. If she gave her inheritance to Teddy, it would put an end to her plans before they had even begun to take shape.

‘Can you not ask Lord Bolsover for more time, so that we can think of something?’ she queried.

‘You don’t know his lordship, or you wouldn’t even suggest it.’

‘If he is such an unpleasant man, why do you associate with him?’

‘He is in the group I play with.’

‘Teddy, you are a fool and I do not wonder that Papa is angry with you.’

‘Do you think you can bring him round? He always listens to you. I will be for ever in your debt.’

She laughed. ‘You are in enough debt without adding me to your list, Teddy, but I’ll see what I can do with Papa. Not tonight, though. Give him time to calm down. How long will you stay?’

‘I cannot show my face back in London until at least Bolsover is satisfied.’

‘But what about your position at Halliday’s?’

‘What position?’

Even the almost-unshockable Jane was taken aback by that. ‘Oh, Teddy, don’t say you have been dismissed? No wonder Papa is furious.’

‘He don’t know about that. Daren’t tell him. If you can’t help me, I will have to go abroad, the Indies or India or something.’

‘That will break Mama’s heart. And the disgrace will be hard to live down. And there’s Isabel’s wedding in a month’s time. What do you think Mark will say about a scandal like that hanging over the nuptials? Go away, Teddy, go and make yourself useful somewhere and let me think.’

He stood up and left her. Her thinking led her nowhere, except to the realisation that she would have to forfeit her inheritance. The thought of all those orphan children continuing to suffer because of her brother’s selfishness was more than she could bear. She had always been tolerant of Teddy’s foibles, but this time he had really angered her. If it were not for her mother’s distress and her sister’s wedding, she would let him stew.

* * *

‘If it isn’t Drew Ashton,’ Mark exclaimed when he saw his old friend striding towards him along Piccadilly. ‘Where have you sprung from? It’s years since I saw you.’

‘I’ve been in India, just arrived back.’

‘And looking very prosperous, I must say.’ Mark looked the other man up and down, taking in the perfectly fitting coat of clerical-grey superfine, the embroidered waistcoat, the diamond pin in his precisely tied cravat, the pearl-handled quizzing glass hanging on a chain from his neck, and the gold pocket watch. His trousers were strapped below his polished city shoes. ‘You didn’t used to be so elegant.’

‘I did pretty well out there. You don’t look so bad yourself. What have you been up to? How are your lady mother and Lord Wyndham?’

‘They are both well. As for me, I’ve been campaigning with Wellington. Came home after Waterloo and now about to be married. I’m in London to call on my lawyers about the finer points of the marriage settlement and to buy a suit of clothes for the wedding.’

‘You’ve time to join me for a meal at Grillon’s, surely.’

‘Yes, of course. Glad to.’

Mark turned back the way he had come and they walked a little way down the street to the hotel, where they were soon settled at a table and ordering food and wine.

‘Tell me,’ Mark said, while they waited for the repast to arrive. ‘Why the sudden urge to visit India? I recollect you left Broadacres in somewhat of a hurry. I hope it had nothing to do with Mama’s hospitality.’

‘No, certainly not. Lady Wyndham’s hospitality is of the best. She made me very welcome. It was a family matter that came up suddenly and had to be attended to. I did explain that at the time.’

‘So you did. I had forgot. So, what are you going to do now you are back in England?’

‘I am thinking of buying a share in a clipper and continuing to trade. It has served me well so far.’

‘Trade, Drew?’

‘Why not? I am not so top-lofty as to turn my nose up at a good way of making a fortune’. He stopped speaking as a waiter brought their pork chops, succulent and sizzling with fat, together with a large bowl of vegetables. They helped themselves and tucked in.

‘A nabob, are you?’ Mark queried. His friend certainly gave that impression. It was the only way he could have come by such finery without inherited wealth, which Mark knew he did not have.

‘You could say that. I went out with the intention of making a fortune and in that I succeeded. I am no longer the poor relation to be pitied because no young lady of any standing would consider me.’

‘I’m sure that isn’t true, Drew.’

‘Oh, it is, believe me. The young lady I wanted to marry turned her proud nose up at me. Not good enough, you see.’

Mark detected a note of bitterness in his old friend’s tone ‘There are plenty more fish in the sea.’

‘Indeed, yes, although, unlike you, I am in no hurry to become leg-shackled.’

‘I am not in a hurry. We have known each other since childhood.’

‘Tell me about her. Is she beautiful? Does she have a pleasing temperament?’

‘Yes, to both questions. You have met her, Drew. Her name is Isabel Cavenhurst.’

‘Cavenhurst!’

‘Yes, you sound surprised.’

‘No, no,’ Andrew said hastily. ‘I do remember the name. Don’t the Cavenhursts live close to Broadacres?’

‘Yes, on the other side of the village at Greystone Manor. We went there several times while you were staying with us. Surely you remember that?’

‘Yes, now you remind me, I do. There were three young ladies, I recall, though the youngest was no more than a child and the middle one, still at her lessons. The elder was seventeen or eighteen. I recall her name was Jane. I misremember the other names.’ He spoke nonchalantly, as if it were a matter of indifference to him.

‘Isabel is the second daughter. She is by far the most beautiful of the three, but Sophie is young and may grow into her looks. As for Jane, she has some very good qualities I can admire, but good looks is not one of them.’

‘So you have taken the pick of the bunch and not the eldest. Isn’t that a little unusual?’

‘We are not in the Middle Ages, Drew, my parents would never presume to tell me whom I should marry. I was able to please myself. Anyway, Jane would not have welcomed my advances even if I chose to make any. I believe there was some sort of disappointment. I don’t know the details, but she withdrew from society and I saw more of Isabel. Then of course I went to Portugal and was away six years. Isabel and I became engaged when I returned.’

‘So when is the wedding to be?’

‘Next month. The fifteenth.’

‘Then I wish you happy.’

‘Thank you. You must come down for the wedding.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’

‘Why not? You do not have a prior engagement, do you?’

‘No, I am as free as the air until I find my clipper.’

‘Then why the reluctance?’

‘It is surely up to the bride’s family to issue the invitations? They may not wish to include me.’

‘That’s a feeble excuse if I ever heard one. I can put forward my own guests. Besides, there is something you can do for me...’

‘Oh, and what might that be?’

‘Jonathan Smythe was to be my groomsman, but he had to go to Scotland to visit an elderly relative who is dying and as his inheritance hangs on his attendance at the death bed, he has abandoned me to go to her. I need someone to stand up with me at the altar.’

‘I haven’t seen Jonathan since we were at school together. The terrible trio, they called us, do you remember?’

‘Yes. Always into mischief, the three of us.’

‘My great-aunt and Jonathan’s second cousin live in the same area of Strathclyde, both of them dragons.’

‘I know, but dragon or not, he has been summoned and I am left without a groomsman.’

‘I am flattered, Mark, but why me?’

Mark looked at his friend, his head a little to one side. ‘Because I am sure you will do the job admirably and you are one of my oldest friends, so who better? As soon as I saw you coming down the street, I knew my problem was solved. You will do it, Drew, won’t you?’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Don’t think too long. I have to go back to Norfolk the day after tomorrow and before that I have to bespeak me a suit of clothes fit for a bridegroom. Will you help me find it? You can help me choose gifts for my bride and her attendants, too, if you’ve a mind. It is always good not to do these things alone. A wise counsellor is what I need.’

Andrew laughed. ‘From having nothing to occupy me but a good dinner and a game of cards, I suddenly find my time filled with onerous tasks.’

‘Helping me buy a wedding outfit is not onerous. I am not short of blunt. I can afford the best and, if it helps, I will undertake to have a hand of cards with you. We can go to White’s. Are you a member?’

‘No, I haven’t been back long enough to join any clubs and without sponsors I am unlikely to be accepted.’

‘No matter, I will introduce you. So, do we shake hands on it?’ He put down his knife and held out his right hand.

Andrew took it. ‘Very well. Tomorrow we go shopping. I make no promises about attending the wedding though.’

Mark grinned. He was satisfied for the moment. He did not doubt that he would be able to persuade his friend to Broadacres and then he might find out the truth about why he had disappeared so suddenly. He did not believe the tale of family business because, as far as he knew, Andrew’s only family was an elderly spinster great-aunt who had had no wish to look after the orphan when his mother and father both died within weeks of each other. She had put him out to foster parents until he was old enough to go to school. From the odd things Drew had told him, he had been subject to physical abuse and mental torment. Mark had always felt sorry for him when they were at school, because when all the boys went home for the holidays, he had been left behind. He had invited him to Broadacres, but until Drew was old enough to make his own decisions he had been forbidden to come on the grounds it would give him ideas above his station. It was when they’d left university that he had been prevailed upon to spend some time at Broadacres before looking for a way of earning a living. Why, if it was family business that had called him, did he make such haste to go to India?

* * *

When they had finished their meal, which Andrew insisted on paying for, they parted, promising to meet again soon. Mark hired a hackney to take him to Halliday and Son to consult the son, Mr Cecil Halliday, about the marriage settlement. Mark was a careful man, but he was not ungenerous; he wanted to be sure Isabel had enough pin money to buy whatever she liked in the way of gowns and fripperies without having to appeal to him every time. He was not unaware that Sir Edward was struggling—it was obvious by the state of the house and grounds—and he had waived the dowry he had been offered. He knew how much of a sacrifice that would have been for the others—her ladyship, Jane and Sophie—who might suffer as a consequence. It was the last thing he wanted.

He was surprised when he arrived at the lawyer’s premises not to encounter Teddy, who was usually scratching away in the outer office. There was another man sitting at his desk.

‘Where is Mr Cavenhurst?’ he queried after he had been shown into Cecil Halliday’s office and they had exchanged greetings and handshakes.

‘Mr Cavenhurst is no longer with us.’

‘Not working here? Where has he gone?’

The man shrugged. ‘I have no idea, back to his lodgings or home to Norfolk, perhaps.’

‘What happened?’

‘That’s not for me to say, sir.’

‘I understand your reticence, but he is to be my brother-in-law. Am I to assume you dispensed with his services?’

‘You may assume that,’ the man said, tight-lipped. ‘I shall say nothing.’

‘Very well. I’ll not embarrass you by asking any more questions. Shall we get down to business?’

* * *

They spent the next hour fine-tuning the agreement and then Mark set off for Teddy’s lodgings. The young man had flitted owing rent, he was told by the concierge in aggrieved tones. Mark paid the back rent and returned to his hotel. He had known Teddy all his life, they had played together as children and gone to the same school, although Teddy was four years younger and they’d had very little contact while there. They had not attended the same university and afterwards Mark had joined the army in Portugal and Teddy had subsequently taken up the position of junior clerk to Halliday and Son. It was only recently, because of the wedding, they had seen more of each other.

Mark wanted to like Teddy for Isabel’s sake, but he had always found him brash and insensitive, which had come about, he supposed, because he was the longed-for son and heir. Born between Jane and Isabel, he had been thoroughly spoiled by his doting mama. So what had he done to make Halliday give him the bag? Whatever it was would not please Sir Edward.

* * *

He was able to make an informed guess later that evening when he and Drew met at White’s and were joined by two others in a game of whist. One was Toby Moore, an erstwhile army captain whom Mark had known slightly during the war, and the other was Lord Bolsover. They were not two he would normally have chosen to play with, but all the other men present were already settled at their games and he could hardly refuse a polite request to make up a four.

‘You are affianced to one of the Cavenhurst girls, are you not?’ Bolsover queried, while they waited for a new pack of cards to be brought to the table. He was a year or two older than Mark, extravagantly dressed. His dark hair was worn short and curled forward over his forehead and ears. His skin was tanned, which was surprising since, as far as Mark was aware, he spent long hours at the gaming tables.

‘Yes,’ Mark said. ‘I have the honour to be engaged to Miss Isabel Cavenhurst.’

‘The wedding to be soon, is it?’

‘In a little under a month. Why do you ask?’

‘Curiosity, my dear fellow. I am well acquainted with Cavenhurst.’

‘Sir Edward?’

‘No, never met him. I meant the son. We have had a few hands of cards together. I am afraid he is a poor loser. I believe he has run home on a repairing lease. I do hope he recovers quickly, I am not in the habit of waiting for my money.’

Mark could well believe that and wondered where the conversation was leading. ‘No doubt he has gone home for the wedding.’

‘So soon? I think not. It is to be hoped his father can come up trumps because at the moment I hold all the cards. I have bought up all the man’s debts and they were spread far and wide. I do not think Teddy Cavenhurst ever bought anything with cash.’ Everyone knew that creditors who could not make their debtors pay often sold the debts for a fraction of the original figure, in order to be rid of them.

His heart sank, but he hid it with a laugh. ‘Sir Edward has always stood buff for his son. Have no fear.’

‘I had heard the estate was in a poor way and Sir Edward hard put to come about.’ Bolsover spoke nonchalantly as he picked up the pack that had just been put on the table in front of him and broke the seal.

‘Where did you hear that? I know nothing of it.’

His lordship gave a cracked laugh. ‘Worried that the lady’s dowry is at risk, are you?’

‘No, of course not. I do not know where you obtained your information, but I suggest you tell whoever it is that they are in error. Now, as we have the cards, shall we play?’

‘To be sure.’ His lordship finished shuffling the pack and put it on the table. ‘Will you cut for trumps, Mr Ashton?’

The subject of Teddy and his debts was dropped, but it worried Mark. From the way Bolsover had spoken about the dowry and the Greystone estate, the amount must be substantial. Surely not enough to ruin Sir Edward? How much was it? He could ask Isabel, or better still Jane. She would be bound to know and also the extent of Sir Edward’s problems.

* * *

‘You are not concentrating,’ murmured Drew, during the break between one game and the next as the pile of coins at Bolsover’s elbow had grown. ‘I had already won that second trick, you did not have to waste a trump on it. That is a beginner’s mistake.’

‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

‘Dreaming about your bride, are you?’

Mark smiled, but did not answer. He picked up the cards Toby Moore had just dealt. This was better; he had a good hand. They played in silence and recouped some of their losses. Drew was a very good player; he seemed to know where all the cards were and by the end of the evening they were in profit.

* * *

‘A satisfactory evening,’ Drew said, as they strolled to Jermyn Street where he was lodging.

‘I think you must be a seasoned gambler,’ Mark said. ‘Hector Bolsover has a reputation as a sharp, but you made him look clumsy. He won’t like that.’

‘What do you know of the man?’

‘Not a great deal. I believe he is unmarried and spends all his time in the clubs and gaming hells. I have heard he does not always play fair, though no one has seen fit to challenge him. If he has Teddy’s vouchers, it could go ill for the Cavenhursts.’

‘So that was what you were in a brown study about?’

‘It is worrying.’

‘Are you concerned about the dowry?’

‘Good heavens, no! It is the least of my worries.’

‘So, we are still going to look for wedding finery tomorrow?’

‘Naturally we are.’ They stopped outside Drew’s lodgings. ‘And you are going to come back to Broadacres with me, aren’t you?’

‘Have I said that?’

‘No, but you will. I want you to meet Isabel again before the wedding. We will invite the Cavenhursts over for supper.’

Drew laughed. ‘In the face of such a prospect, how can I refuse?’

Mark went on his way to the Wyndham town house in South Audley Street well satisfied.


Chapter Two

‘Papa, can you spare me a minute?’ Jane had found her father in the estate office where he worked most mornings. The desk in front of him was scattered with papers. He had evidently been raking his fingers through his greying hair; some of it was standing up on end.

‘Oh, it is you, Jane. Come in and sit down. I thought it was that reprobate son of mine and I can hardly be civil to him at the moment.’

Jane advanced further into the room and sat on the chair placed the other side of the desk, a position usually occupied by the estate manager, but she had just seen him leave and knew her father was alone. ‘I am sorry to hear that, Papa. It is on his behalf I am come.’

‘So, he has descended to sending his sister to plead for him, has he?’

‘He feels that you have not fully comprehended the trouble he is in and that perhaps I can explain it better than he.’

Sir Edward managed a humourless laugh. ‘I comprehend it only too well, Jane. What he does not comprehend is how impossible it is for me to comply with his outrageous demands without impoverishing the rest of the family.’

Jane gasped. ‘Surely it is not as bad as that?’

‘It is every bit as bad as that. My investments have failed. Last year’s ruined harvest and the demands of my tenants for repairs, not to mention Isabel’s wedding, have been the last straw. We are going to have to retrench. I am sorry, but Teddy will have to find his own solution. I warned him the last time he came home that it was the last time. He must learn I meant it.’

‘But what is he to do, Papa? He is young and impressionable, it is only natural he wants to spread his wings and keep up with his friends.’

‘Then he should choose his friends more wisely.’

‘But, Papa...’

‘Jane, you will displease me if you continue. You have a soft and gentle heart and it is to your credit, but in this instance you are backing a lost cause. You would do better to put your mind to ways of retrenchment, ways that your mother will accept as reasonable.’

‘Very well, Papa.’ She rose to go, then turned back. ‘Isabel’s wedding is not in jeopardy, is it?’

‘No, I think we can manage that.’

She left her father, but did not immediately seek out her brother. She needed a little time to herself and she needed to think about the task her father had set her. One thing was very sure: her inheritance was going to have to be sacrificed and the sooner she accepted that the better. She went up to her bedchamber, put on a light shawl and a bonnet and set out for the village.

* * *

But for the problems that weighed her down she would have enjoyed the short walk. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the hedgerows were bright with blossom. Hadlea village, set in the north Norfolk fenland, was not a large one. There was a church, a rectory, a windmill, two inns and several cottages grouped around a triangular village green on which there was a pump and some old stocks, though no one had been put in those in her memory. Side roads from the green led to a farrier and harness-maker who also mended shoes, a butcher and a tiny front-room shop that sold almost anything the village women might need from salt to sugar and soap to candles, working boots to plain cotton tick. For anything like muslin and silk, ribbons and bonnets, they had to make a trip to Norwich or King’s Lynn or wait until the travelling salesman came round, usually at the end of the harvest when his customers had a little money to spend.

Jane made her way to the rectory and was greeted cheerfully by Mrs Caulder. ‘Come in, Jane, I will have some tea and cakes brought into the parlour. It’s time Henry came out of his study. He has been in there all morning, working on tomorrow’s sermon.’

Mrs Caulder was very plump, a testament to a love of her cook’s cakes. She fussed around, giving the orders and calling her husband to join them, while Jane sat on one of the chairs and wondered how she was going to explain that the five thousand pounds she had promised for their project would not be forthcoming. She could not divulge the true state of affairs.

‘How are you my dear?’ Mrs Caulder asked. ‘Did you walk here? I did not hear the pony and trap.’

‘I walked. It is such a lovely day.’ Even as she spoke, she wondered if the pony would have to go, or perhaps the carriage, or the riding horses.

‘To be sure it is. Ah, here is Henry.’

The Rector was of medium height, with a shock of grey hair, which he wore long and tied back with a thin black ribbon. He was a jovial man and beamed at Jane. ‘What a pleasure to see you, my dear Miss Cavenhurst. I hope I find you well.’

‘Very well. But I am afraid I have some disappointing news.’

‘Surely not the wedding?’ exclaimed his wife, handing Jane a cup of tea.

‘Oh, no, nothing like that. It’s simply that I cannot give our orphan project the five thousand I promised.’ She paused, then resorted to an untruth. ‘I find I cannot touch it until either I marry or I reach the age of thirty in three years’ time. I have been racking my brains trying to think of a way of going ahead without it.’

‘My dear girl, do not look so downbeat, it is not the end of the world,’ the Rector said, flinging up the skirt of his coat and seating himself beside his wife to take a cup of tea from her. ‘We will contrive somehow without it. We shall have to find a wealthy patron, more than one if need be. I never did feel quite at ease about you giving it in the first place.’

‘Oh, I am much relieved,’ Jane said. ‘I thought it would be the end of all our hopes. You have given me fresh heart.’

‘There are orphanages all over the country, some a great deal better run than others. We must ask them how they manage and draw up a list of possible patrons. You, I am sure, could persuade people to donate. It is a good cause and you are so passionate about it.’

* * *

Jane laughed at that and the rest of the visit passed cheerfully. She was still smiling as she started out to cross the green on her way home. She had her head down, deep in thought, and did not see the two men until she was almost abreast of them.

‘Jane, we are well met,’ Mark called out to her.

She looked up, startled, and found herself hurtling back ten years. The man beside Mark was unmistakable. The years had dealt kindly with him. He was tall, broad and muscular and dressed to perfection in a brown coat of Bath cloth and fawn buckskins tucked into shining tasselled Hessians. A gold watch chain hung across his creamy brocade waistcoat and a huge diamond sparkled in his cravat. All this she noted before lifting her eyes to look into his face. It was tanned and the only lines were around his hazel eyes, due either to laughter or squinting in the sun. He was regarding her with a look she interpreted as amusement. Was she a comical figure? To be sure, her dress was plain, but her shawl was pretty and the ribbons on her bonnet were new even if the bonnet was not.

‘You remember Miss Cavenhurst, do you not?’ Mark said to him. ‘This is Jane, sister to my fiancée.’

‘Of course I remember,’ Drew said, doffing his hat. ‘How do you do, Miss Cavenhurst?’

‘I am well. And you?’ She had often wondered what it would be like to meet him again and whether the old attraction would still be there. He was an extremely attractive man, to be sure, and a great deal more confident than the man she had sent away, but after ten years, it would have been surprising if she had not found him changed.

‘I am in good health, Miss Cavenhurst, and happy to renew acquaintance with you. It has been some time.’

‘Ten years,’ she murmured and then wished she had not mentioned the time. He would assume she had been counting and dwelling on it, which was the last impression she wished to give him.

‘Yes, and every one of them devoted to the goal of returning one day, having made my fortune.’

‘And have you?’

‘I believe so.’

‘He is a nabob,’ Mark said, laughing. ‘But underneath he is the same Drew Ashton I knew before he went away. He has come to stay with us at Broadacres and be my groomsman.’

‘I thought you already had someone,’ Jane said, turning towards him. He was almost as tall as Drew, but slimmer and his urbane good looks contrasted sharply with the weathered look of his friend.

‘So I did, but he has been called away and when I met Drew in London, the solution to my problem was obvious.’

‘How fortuitous for you.’ She turned back to Drew. ‘So, you came to see how we all go on in Hadlea, Mr Ashton. We are a quiet community, little changes here.’

‘Except we all grow older and wiser,’ he said.

‘That is true, of course.’ Was that some reference to their youth ten years before or was he telling her his old passion had died a natural death, as surely hers must have done?

‘Jane, I need to have a quiet word with you,’ Mark said. ‘Perhaps Drew will excuse us for a moment?’

‘To be sure,’ Drew said. ‘I will amuse myself exploring the village.’ He bowed to Jane. ‘Good day, Miss Cavenhurst. I shall look forward to renewing my acquaintance with the rest of your family while I am here.’

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. ‘Good day, Mr Ashton.’

She watched him stride away, then turned back to Mark. ‘He is much changed and yet he has not changed at all.’

‘Except he is richer,’ Mark said with a laugh.

‘What is it you wanted to speak to me about?’ She did not want to talk about Andrew Ashton. His sudden arrival was something else she had to deal with. Would he mention the past or would it be a closed book? She hoped the latter. She did not want to be reminded of it.

Mark’s smile died and he seemed to be reluctant to go on, which was so unlike him that she wondered what it could be. ‘Jane, I met Lord Bolsover while I was in London. Drew and I had a hand of whist with him and a friend of his at White’s.’

‘Oh, surely you are not a gambling man, Mark? Gambling is an insidious evil.’

‘I only play for amusement now and again and never for high stakes. You play yourself of an evening, do you not?’

‘Yes, when we have company and then for counters, not money. But do go on.’

‘Bolsover is not a man I would normally associate with, but Drew wanted a game.’

‘Mark, you are beating about the bush. You are going to tell me Teddy owes him money, aren’t you?’

‘You know of it?’

‘I am the first person my brother comes to when he is in trouble.’

‘I believe he owes Lord Bolsover a substantial amount—will you tell me how much?’

‘Mark, I know you mean well, but Teddy would not like me to divulge the figure, not even to you. Why do you want to know?’

‘Lord Bolsover is putting it about that Teddy is a welsher and he will have his money by hook or by crook. He even hinted he would have the Manor.’

She gasped. ‘It is not so large an amount, Mark. He cannot do that, can he?’

‘Not while your papa is alive, but when Teddy inherits, that will be a different matter. Isabel will be with me, of course, but I am concerned for you and your mother and Sophie. Can Sir Edward settle the debts?’

She hesitated. To her shame, she had already told one untruth that day and she did not want to tell another, especially to Mark, but he had truly frightened her with his tale that Lord Bolsover had bought up all Teddy’s debts, the full extent of which she did not know.

‘Come, Jane, I am soon to be family and would help if I could. I will not repeat what you tell me.’

‘Whether Papa can or cannot is not to the point, Mark. He simply refuses.’

‘Oh, dear, does he know how deep in Teddy is?’

‘I do not know, Teddy may have told him, but if matters are as bad as you say, Papa would have a struggle to settle, I think. Like everyone he has been badly hit by taxes and poor harvests. I shall do what I can for Teddy with my own money and that may hold his lordship off for a time.’

‘Jane, you cannot do that. Your money is your dowry.’

She gave him a crooked grin. ‘I am never likely to marry, Mark, and we all know it.’

‘Nonsense. You would make someone a splendid wife and I know that you love children. I have seen you with them in the village.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘If I were not already taken, I might offer myself.’

She could not help it, the tears spilled from her eyes. It was so unlike the down-to-earth Jane, he became alarmed. He put his arm about her and pulled her to him, so that her head nestled on his shoulder. ‘I didn’t think that would make you cry, Jane. I beg forgiveness.’

Angry with herself, she pulled away from him. ‘Oh, it wasn’t that. It was...’ She gulped. ‘It was the thought of Teddy’s debts bringing us so low.’ She dried her eyes and managed a laugh. ‘I could cheerfully beat him.’

‘So could I.’

‘Isabel knows nothing of it, so please do not say anything. We mustn’t spoil her wedding. I have no doubt we will come about.’

‘I will escort you home.’

‘No, please don’t. I shall be fine. Go back to Mr Ashton; he is obviously waiting for you.’ She nodded towards Drew, who was idling on the other side of the green.

* * *

It was typical of Jane, to be so unselfish, Mark thought as he rejoined Drew. She always thought of others before herself and that blinkered family of hers took her for granted. Even Isabel, while singing her praises, took advantage of her. As for their brother, he was a scapegrace without an ounce of conscience or good sense and to apply to his sister whenever he was in trouble was the outside of enough. He could pay the debt for them, but he was quite sure Sir Edward would be too proud to accept it, though he did not doubt Teddy would take it eagerly and then go on as before. It would be like throwing money into a bottomless pit. Teddy needed to be taught a salutary lesson. But what and how? It needed some thought and he would do nothing until after the wedding.

‘If I did not know you better, I would think you were a little too fond of your future sister-in-law,’ Drew said as they turned to walk back to Broadacres.

‘Nonsense. I am afraid I unintentionally upset her.’

‘Didn’t look like that to me.’

‘Looks can be deceptive and it is none of your business anyway, Drew.’

‘True, and neither is it true of those old biddies standing by that garden gate, but I have no doubt they will make it so.’

Mark glanced in the direction of Drew’s nod. Mrs Stangate and her crony, Mrs Finch, were standing at the former’s garden gate, watching them. ‘Oh, no, the two biggest gossips in the village. They will add two and two and make five.’

‘Whatever did you say to her? It must have been something very telling for you to abandon your usual sense of propriety.’

‘I expressed the wish to beat her brother.’

Drew laughed. ‘Oh, I assume you told her of our meeting with Lord Bolsover.’

‘Yes, but she already knew some of what Teddy had been up to but, I suspect, not the whole. It makes me angry the way everyone in that family leans on Jane and expects her to fetch them out of whatever bumblebath they have tumbled into.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes. She has given up everything for them and is now proposing to use her own money to pay off Teddy’s debt.’

‘Does she know how much that is?’

‘I don’t think so. Nor do I think she has enough. According to Isabel, their grandmother left each of the girls a little money for a dowry. Isabel has already spent hers on her trousseau, so it cannot have been a great amount.’

‘Tell me,’ Drew said thoughtfully. ‘Why did you choose Isabel over Jane, when you so clearly have a high regard for her?’

Mark hesitated before replying, trying to find a satisfactory answer. ‘A high regard is not love, is it? Jane has much to commend her, but I did not think of her in that way. Everyone, and that includes me, simply accepted that she was not going to marry and it became easy to think of her as Isabel’s unmarried sister. Unfair, perhaps, but that is the way of it.’ How unfair he was only now beginning to realise.

‘And Isabel?’

‘Isabel is beautiful and lively and she loves me. What more can a man ask?’

‘What indeed,’ Drew murmured.

‘Have you never been in love?’

‘Frequently. I have been in love with every mistress while it lasts, but it never does. They always reveal their true colours in the end.’

‘Then you have not been in love at all. Love is meant to last a lifetime.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes. I fear you are too cynical, Drew. What has made you like that? Have you been disappointed?’

‘I have just said so. Frequently.’

‘I was not talking about mistresses and you know it. I meant a proper young lady.’ He paused, remembering something Drew had said. ‘Oh, the young lady who turned you down. That hurt, did it not?’

‘At the time, yes.’

‘So have you come back to try again?’

‘No. It happened too long ago, we are both changed.’

‘Who is she?’

‘That would be telling.’

‘Then tell.’

‘One day, perhaps. Now can we change the subject? I find it exceedingly boring.’

Mark laughed. ‘Very well, keep your secrets. Would you like to ride this afternoon? We could go round the estate and across the common to the fen. I can find you a good mount.’

‘An excellent idea.’

They turned in at the wrought-iron gates of Broadacres and made their way up the gravel drive to the house. It was a very large house, testament to the wealth of the Wyndham forebears who had built it. Almost a castle, it had a turret on each of its four corners and a cantilevered flight of stone steps up to a huge oaken front door. Four storeys high and with a crenellated roof decorated with carvings, its long windows reflected the sun and shone like a myriad of mirrors. Mark loved it. It was his inheritance and it was to this home he would bring his bride. It was certainly extensive enough to support two families; he did not need or want to find another home for himself and Isabel.

‘What do you think of Broadacres?’ he asked his friend. ‘Is it as you remember it?’

‘Yes. Even better. Lord Wyndham has a good estate manager, methinks.’

‘The best, but my father likes to involve himself in the running of it and he always tries to include me in any decisions, so when the time comes—though I pray it is a long time off—I will be able to take over with little or no disruption.’

‘You have your life planned out so neatly, Mark, does nothing ever upset your equilibrium?’

‘Occasionally, but I try not to let it. To be constantly up in the boughs is not good for one’s health.’

Drew laughed. ‘Then you and I must differ. I like a little excitement, doing something out of the ordinary just to feel I am alive.’

‘Was India not exciting enough?’

‘It had its moments.’

‘Tell me about it. I promised Isabel we would travel widely for our wedding trip and India might be the place to go.’

‘It is an extraordinary continent. There is enormous wealth and abject poverty side by side, and there are always battles of one kind or another between the natives and the East India Company. It is also very beautiful if you can tolerate the heat. The best place to be in the summer months is up in the mountains. If you really intend to go and I have bought my ship, you could take passage on her. It will be my wedding gift to you both.’

‘That is very generous of you, thank you.’

‘Not at all. You and your parents have been generous to me. I have not forgotten that.’

‘We shall have to find you a bride.’

‘If I need a bride, I will find one for myself,’ Drew said. ‘I abhor matchmakers. Begging your pardon, my friend.’

Mark laughed and they climbed the steps and entered the cool interior of the house.

* * *

Jane walked home with her head in a whirl of mixed emotions. The last few days had upset the even tenor of her life. From helping her sister with her wedding, determined to make it the best she possibly could in the hope that it would settle her demons, she had been flung into what she could only call disarray. First there was Teddy and his problems, which were bad enough, then her father’s revelation that they were not nearly as comfortable financially as everyone thought and now the sudden arrival of a ghost from the past which unnerved her. Was she as immune to him as she had always hoped she would be if they ever met again? Only time would tell; he had taken her breath away and made her heart beat fast, but what did that signify except surprise? How long did he intend to stay? According to Mark he was down for the wedding, still three weeks away. And to top it all, Mark had seen her cry and had taken her in his arms and the demon that sat on her shoulder had done a little dance of glee. At all costs she must conquer it.

She took the long way home in order to calm herself and put her mind to what was important, so she turned down a quiet lane that led into the ancient wood which shielded the house from the north wind that came down from the Arctic with nothing in its way to stop it.

The woods were quiet, but there were sounds if one took the trouble to listen. The song of the birds, always stronger in spring; the cooing of pigeons; the rustling of small animals in the last of the dead leaves; the sighing of the wind in the tree tops; the distant barking of a dog; her own, almost silent, footsteps. And there were other things to see and note: the buds on the chestnut trees; the unfurling of pale, new bracken stems; bluebells with their gently nodding heads; the odd browned leaf hanging on the bare branch of an oak, not yet in new leaf; a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis and drying its wings in a patch of sunlight filtering through the branches. Spring was a time of new beginnings, of hope. Where was her life going from here? Would she go on as she had been doing for the last ten years, or would it take a different direction? How could she best help her father?

She emerged on to the lane, crossed the narrow road and went through a gate which led to the back of the house. She stood a moment to look at it. It was old, but not as old as Broadacres, having been built just before the Civil War, when it was sequestered by the Parliamentarians and given to her father’s ancestors for their service to the cause. They seemed not to have suffered for their allegiance because in the subsequent restoration of the monarchy, they had been allowed to keep the prize. It had all happened a hundred and fifty years before and Sir Edward rarely spoke of it. Jane had deduced he was perhaps a little disappointed that his forebears had not been granted a peerage, which would have set him above the common people. He made up for it with aspirations for his daughters, which was why he had been so against any connection between Jane and Andrew Ashton. Jane, who adored her father and always obeyed him, had sent her suitor away.

It would be untrue to say she had mourned his going ever since. She grieved for a year or so and then pulled herself together to settle into her role as the unmarried daughter and everyone’s hopes had turned on Isabel. A marriage between Mark and Isabel had been talked of for years, but he had not formally proposed until he came back from the war. Ever since then everyone’s attention had been concentrated on the wedding. But now, it seemed, that was destined to be overshadowed by financial problems. Her father had asked her to think of ways of retrenchment and she had so far done nothing about it. She would do so that very afternoon and draw up a list.

Pulling herself up, she quickened her pace and was soon indoors. Having shed her shawl and bonnet in her room, she went downstairs to the small parlour where she found her mother and Isabel scrutinising the guest list for the wedding. Most of their close friends and neighbours knew about it already, but there were others further afield that Lady Cavenhurst felt ought to be invited. In that they were at loggerheads with Sir Edward.

‘Papa says we do not need to invite so many,’ Isabel complained when Jane took a seat beside them. ‘He says it is all getting out of hand and we must limit the number to fifty, when I had been planning on a hundred and fifty, at least.’

‘Do we really know that many people?’ Jane asked mildly.

‘Of course we do. Papa is being unreasonable.’

‘No doubt he has his reasons. Let me look at the list.’

Isabel handed it to her. ‘But there is everyone here you have ever spoken half-a-dozen words to, Issie,’ she said, scanning it quickly. ‘They would only come to stuff themselves at the banquet and not to wish you well. Would it not be better for it to be a little more intimate, with only close relations and friends who would be happy for you? Mark, I notice, has not asked for a great number to be invited and you do not want his guests to be overwhelmed by yours, do you? It would look like a slight, an effort to diminish him.’

‘Would it? I hadn’t thought of that. Now you have put a doubt in my mind. Mama, shall we cross some of them off?’

‘Perhaps we should take another look at it,’ her ladyship said. ‘But we really cannot limit our guests to fifty—that would be parsimonious.’

It was evident to Jane that her mother either did not know or was shutting her eyes to the extent of their financial problems and her father had lacked the courage to tell her. Unless she had badly misjudged the situation he would have to do so soon

‘There is one that will not be coming, I have discovered. I met Mark in the village and he told me Jonathan Smythe has been called away to a relation’s death bed and he has appointed a new groomsman. No doubt he will tell you when he sees you.’

‘Which will be tomorrow evening,’ Lady Cavenhurst said. ‘We are all invited to Broadacres for supper.’

‘All of us?’ Jane queried, her heart sinking.

‘Yes, of course. Lady Wyndham would not leave anyone out, would she? Did Mark say who his new groomsman is to be?’

‘Yes. Mr Andrew Ashton. He was with Mark when I met him.’

‘Ashton!’ exclaimed her mother. ‘Why on earth did he choose him?’

‘He is an old friend of Mark’s, Mama, so why not?’

‘Andrew Ashton,’ Isabel murmured. ‘Didn’t he come and stay at Broadacres years ago?’

‘I believe he did.’ Jane said. ‘He is much changed, having come back from India after making his fortune there.’

‘India! Mark has said we may go there for our wedding trip. I shall enjoy asking Mr Ashton all about it. Mama, what shall we wear for this supper party? Is it to be formal?’

‘No, dear, Lady Wyndham says informal on her invitation and there is to be music and cards.’

‘Then we must contrive to keep Teddy away from the card table,’ Jane said, a remark upon which they all agreed.

* * *

The interior of Broadacres was as imposing as the exterior. It had a grand entrance hall where the cantilevered staircase of the outside was repeated with the addition of a wrought-iron balustrade. There was a long gallery lined on one side with paintings, not only of the family, but of landscapes and seascapes, horses, dogs and cattle. There were long windows on the other side, which looked out over the sweep of the carriage drive. Chairs and sofas were placed at intervals and a long Turkish carpet laid down the centre covered the stone flags. Off this gallery were several beautifully furnished reception rooms, a book room, a formal dining room and at the far end, occupying the whole of the ground floor of one wing, a magnificent ball room. Upstairs the bedchambers were equally spacious and well equipped.

‘To think this will be your home,’ Jane whispered to Isabel as they were conducted down the gallery and along a corridor to the family withdrawing room. Ahead of them marched Sir Edward and Lady Cavenhurst and an unusually subdued Teddy. ‘You will one day be mistress of it.’

‘Oh, don’t say that. It terrifies me. I wish we could have our own place, something smaller and less grand, but Mark will not hear of it. He says it is so big we need never come across his parents if we do not wish to.’

‘I am sure you will manage very well.’

The footman who was conducting them opened the door of the withdrawing room and announced them one by one as they entered. As Lady Wyndham came forward to greet Sir Edward and his wife, Jane looked about her. Although it was a grand room, it had a comfortable feel about it, as if real people lived in it and used it, unlike the public rooms at the front of the building which seemed cold and impersonal.

She came out of her reverie when she heard Lady Wyndham introducing Drew to her father and mother and Sir Edward’s response. ‘I believe we have met, sir.’

‘Indeed, you have,’ Mark put in. ‘Mr Ashton stayed with us for a few weeks when we left Cambridge. That was... How long ago, Drew?’

‘I do believe it was all of ten years,’ Drew responded. ‘So long that I am not at all surprised that Sir Edward has forgot me. I was but a stripling with pockets to let.’

‘Now he is a nabob.’ Mark laughed. ‘As rich as Golden Ball and certainly no stripling.’

‘That much is evident,’ Sir Edward said. Jane knew he was remembering and wondering if he had come to renew his suit. She had wondered about that herself, but dismissed the idea. Too much water had flowed under the bridge in those years.

Lady Wyndham turned to Jane. ‘Do I need to introduce you to our guest, Jane?’

‘No, for I remember him very well, but I doubt Isabel and Sophie do.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Sophie said. ‘I never met a nabob either. What does a nabob do?’ She addressed her last remark to Drew, who was bowing in front of her.

‘He trades in India, Miss Sophie,’ he said. ‘He sends Indian artefacts, spices and jewels back to these islands in fast ships and they return with items of English manufacture, furniture, ornaments, gowns, those sorts of things, and thereby he makes a profit.’

‘And have you made a good profit, Mr Ashton?’ This came from Isabel, who had been standing beside her sister, staring at Drew in fascination.

He bowed to her. ‘Tolerable, Miss Isabel. You see, I do remember you, though you were still at your lessons at the time.’

‘Let us sit down until supper is served,’ Lady Wyndham said, ushering them towards chairs and sofas.

They arranged themselves about the room and Isabel contrived to be sitting next to Drew. ‘Do tell me about India,’ she said. ‘Mark has promised to take me there after we are married and I would like to learn all I can before we go. Tell me, is it necessary to speak the language and wear... What do they call those gowns the natives wear?’

‘Saris, Miss Isabel. They are more intricate than they look, but they are very cool in the heat and the fabrics are superb. I have known European women take to them when the heat has become too much.’

‘Oh, I should dearly like to try one.’

‘I am sure you would look charming,’ he said.

‘And what about the language? Is it difficult to learn?’

‘There are several languages in India, but you would not need to learn any of them. The native servants speak a kind of pidgin English and, apart from visits to the bazaar, you would not need to communicate with other natives. And you would never go to the bazaar unless accompanied by someone familiar with the language and customs.’

Jane watched this exchange with some misgiving. It was not polite of her sister to monopolise the gentleman, certainly not at the expense of Mark, who was standing by the window watching them. On the pretence of looking out at the terrace and formal gardens beyond it, she went over to stand beside him.

‘She means no harm, Mark,’ she whispered. ‘She is simply interested because you said you would take her to India.’

‘I know.’

A footman came to tell them supper was served and they made their way into the dining room. They were silent while the servants waited on them, but the conversation began again when they stood aside, this time led by Lord Wyndham and Sir Edward, who began a discussion about the dire state of the nation’s economy. The year before had been miserable, with no summer to speak of, the crops failing and labourers and returning soldiers out of work. There was unrest among them everywhere. At the end of the year there had been a mass meeting at Spa Fields, addressed by Henry Hunt, who had a gift for rabble-rousing, and the whole thing had got out of hand and had to be quelled by the militia. Revolutionary plots were being uncovered everywhere, which had led the Government to suspend habeas corpus and outlaw seditious meetings.

‘It is a mercy we have escaped here in Hadlea,’ his lordship said. ‘I have managed to keep all my men employed and even take on one or two more. No doubt it is the same with you, Cavenhurst?’

‘Indeed,’ Sir Edward said, though he did not elaborate. Jane knew he had not taken on any men for some time, not even when old Crabtree retired at the age of eighty and one of the younger men went off to pastures new.

‘At least there is some good news,’ Lady Wyndham put in. ‘Princess Charlotte is with child again and there are high hopes that she will carry this one to full term.’

‘Let us hope so,’ Lord Wyndham said. ‘A new heir to the throne will divert people from their dislike of the Regent.’ An attempt on the Prince Regent’s life had been made in January when an unknown assailant fired at his carriage on the way back from opening Parliament, but fortunately he had been unhurt.

‘I am concerned for the soldiers’ orphans,’ Jane said. ‘They are living on the streets, learning nothing but to be beggars and thieves. They need homes and a little education to fit them for work when they are old enough.’

‘Yes, it is sad,’ her mother said. ‘But, Jane, I am sure Lord and Lady Wyndham do not want to hear of your project.’

‘On the contrary,’ Lord Wyndham said. ‘I, for one, am interested and should like to hear about it.’ He was a very big man, both in height and breadth, with a round red face, but he smiled a lot and was easy to talk to.

Given a ready listener, Jane launched into an explanation of what she hoped to do, while his lordship and the rest of the company listened intently. She was glad of the audience, it gave her the opportunity to test her persuasive skills. ‘I intend to start with something small, taking local children,’ she said. ‘But even a small home will be costly to run properly. We have to find sponsors.’

‘Jane!’ Her mother was shocked by this talk of money over the supper table.

Lord Wyndham laughed. ‘You daughter is undoubtedly passionate about the subject. I like that and you may count on me for a donation, Miss Cavenhurst.’

‘Thank you, my lord, I am indeed grateful.’

‘I, too, will add to your funds,’ Drew said. ‘What about you, Mark?’

‘Miss Cavendish explained her plans to me some time ago,’ Mark said. ‘I have already promised my contribution.’

‘Everyone is being very free with their blunt,’ Teddy murmured to Jane.

‘Yes, isn’t it wonderful?’ she whispered back. ‘It’s better than gambling it away.’

Annoyed by this barb, he turned away and concentrated on eating.

‘Now let us talk of more pleasant matters,’ Lady Wyndham said. She was an excellent hostess and had seen, if not heard, the exchange between Jane and her brother. ‘How are the wedding plans coming along, Grace?’

Lady Cavenhurst was glad to answer and the meal ended pleasantly and was followed in the drawing room with the girls taking it in turns to play the pianoforte and sing, while a card table was set up for those who wished to play. It was late when the party broke up and Sir Edward’s carriage was brought to the door to take them home.


Chapter Three

‘Mr Ashton is a fascinating man, don’t you think?’ Isabel asked Jane. ‘He has been everywhere and done everything and is so interesting to talk to.’

It was the day after the supper party and the girls and their mother were sitting in the small parlour. Jane was sewing tiny beads on to the skirt of the wedding gown, while Lady Cavenhurst and Isabel sat at the table, writing the invitations on cards.

‘So he may be,’ Jane said, ‘but I think it ill of you to monopolise him in conversation and ignore poor Mark.’

‘Oh, Mark did not mind it. He knows how much I want to travel.’ She picked up one of the invitations. ‘There, I have made a blot on that one. Pass me another, Mama, please.’

‘How many have you crossed off the list?’ Jane queried.

‘About a quarter. We could not take any more off without giving offence and we don’t want Papa to look a pinchcommons, do we?’

‘I do not think catering for fifty is mean, Issie. Papa is worried about the cost. You know what he said this morning.’

Earlier that day Sir Edward had come in from going round the estate with his steward and found his wife and daughters in the morning room, talking about the wedding. Seizing the opportunity of finding them all together, he had delivered a homily on the need to economise. It was a word unknown to Lady Cavenhurst and Isabel. Jane had produced the list she had made, beginning with the notion that they could all spend less on clothes, bonnets and shoes, which had raised a cry of protest from Isabel and Sophie. A second suggestion was that they often wasted food and that Cook should be instructed not to buy exotic produce like lemons and pineapples and only to use fruit and vegetables grown in their own kitchen gardens and to cook no more than was needed for the numbers sitting down to eat. Her ladyship had said that Cook would not like that at all and the provisions for the wedding feast had already been ordered.

‘Unfortunately, even that will not be enough,’ Sir Edward had said. ‘I am afraid there will have to be serious retrenchment.’

Jane had consulted her list again. ‘Then we could cut down on the number of servants. We do not really need three chambermaids and three parlourmaids, and if we helped in the garden ourselves we would not need so many gardeners. I, for one, would not mind doing that. And we could do without the carriage if we had to.’

‘Do without the carriage!’ her mother protested. ‘How are we to go about without one? Tell me that.’

‘We could keep the pony and trap,’ Jane said. ‘One pony is cheaper to keep than four horses and then we would not need more than one groom; Daniel can manage on his own. If we needed to travel further afield, we could go by stage.’

‘Go by stage!’ Her mother was affronted. ‘Impossible.’

‘Perhaps I could take paid employment to help,’ Jane went on, ignoring her mother’s exclamation. She wondered if her mother really understood the gravity of the situation or was simply shutting her eyes to it.

‘Heaven forbid!’ her ladyship exclaimed. ‘You have not been brought up to work, Jane. And what can you do in any case?’

‘I can sew.’

‘Like Miss Smith, I suppose.’

‘No, not like Miss Smith, though there is nothing wrong with what she does. I meant designing and making high-class gowns. Or I could teach. I think I should find that rewarding.’

‘Bless you, Jane,’ Sir Edward said. ‘I hope it will not come to that.’

‘Well, I will not hear of it,’ his wife said. ‘You will make paupers of us.’

‘There is no question of that,’ he said, trying to smile. ‘But we do have to find ways of making substantial savings and the longer we put off doing so, the harder it will be.’

‘What about my wedding?’ Isabel had wailed.

‘I am not proposing to curtail your wedding, Isabel,’ her father told her. ‘But please limit the guests to fifty and try not to be extravagant over the banquet.’

‘We will postpone any decision about savings until after the wedding,’ her ladyship said firmly. ‘Once Isabel is married, no doubt Sophie will follow shortly afterwards and our expenses will not be so great. We may come about without all these measures.’

Sir Edward gave up and left them. No one had mentioned Teddy’s problems, but he was going to have to mend his ways whether he liked it or not. There was no question in Jane’s mind that her inheritance would have to go.

She set the gown aside on a nearby chair. ‘Let me look at the list.’

‘No,’ Isabel said. ‘You will cross everyone off and Mama has approved it. You shall not spoil my wedding, Jane.’

‘Will it spoil it if you have only fifty guests?’

‘Of course it will. I want everyone to see me in my wedding gown, marrying the most eligible bachelor for miles around.’

‘The wedding is not the be-all and end-all of a marriage, Issie. It is only the beginning.’

‘I know that. Do you take me for a fool? And what do you know of it?’

‘Girls, do stop brangling,’ her ladyship put in. ‘It is not becoming and I cannot see how a handful of guests can make you so up in the boughs, Jane dear. It is so unlike you.’

The arrival of a maid to tell them that Mr Wyndham and Mr Ashton had arrived and were asking if the ladies were at home put an end to the conversation and set Isabel in a panic. ‘Mark mustn’t see the dress, Jane. It is unlucky before the day. Put it away quickly.’ She jumped up from her seat and knocked over the ink bottle. Its contents ran across the table and over the chair on which Jane had put the dress. Isabel’s terrible shriek brought the two gentlemen running into the room.

‘What has happened?’ Mark demanded. ‘Are you hurt, Isabel?’

‘Go away. Go away,’ she shouted in a paroxysm of angry tears.

‘But, my dear, you are distressed.’

‘We have had a little accident with the wedding dress,’ Jane told him. She was trying to be calm, but the sight of that black stain on the skirt of the dress had made her heart sink. The beautiful fabric and all those hours of work were ruined. She could have cried herself, but one sobbing woman was enough. ‘I will calm my sister, if you will excuse us for a few minutes.’

‘Of course, we will go away and come back later.’

‘That would be best,’ Lady Cavenhurst said, as she put her arm about her younger daughter to comfort her.

As they bowed their way out Jane rang the bell for a maid to come and clean the table, then she spread the gown out to inspect the damage. ‘It might wash out if we are quick,’ she said.

‘No, it is ruined,’ Isabel cried. ‘How can I go to my wedding in a gown that has been washed? It is a bad omen, a very bad omen.’

‘Do not be so melodramatic, Issie,’ Jane scolded. ‘I will see if there is enough material left over to replace that panel.’ She doubted if there was, but she had to console Isabel somehow.

‘There,’ her ladyship said. ‘Jane does not think it is irretrievable. Do dry your eyes and go up to your room to wash your face, while Jane sees what can be done.’

‘It was her fault,’ Isabel said with an angry pout. ‘She should not have been sitting so close to the table where I was writing.’

Jane was taken aback and opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. Isabel was in no mood to be reasonable.

‘I do not know what is the matter with you girls today,’ their mother said. ‘I have not heard you quarrel so much since you were tiny children. This wedding is setting everyone at odds with each other.’

A servant arrived to clean up the table and the carpet where some of the ink had spilled and her ladyship helped Isabel from the room, leaving Jane to gather up the gown, being careful not to smear the ink on any other part of it. She carried it up to Miss Smith’s workroom, to find the leftover material.

There were several small pieces but not one large enough for a whole panel. She would need some ingenuity to refashion the skirt to make use of them. A join could perhaps be disguised with a band of ribbon, but she would have to put it on all the panels to make it look as if it were meant it to be like that. She would have to unpick some of the embroidery and redesign it around the ribbon. It could be done, but what worried her more and had been doing so for some time now, was her sister’s attitude to the wedding. She did not seem to be able to look beyond it to what married life would really be like. ‘But what do I know about it?’ she murmured to herself, as she sat down and began unpicking. ‘An old maid with no prospects of ever enjoying the role of wife.’

* * *

She had been working there perhaps half an hour when her mother joined her. ‘I have given Isabel a tisane and she has gone to sleep,’ she said. ‘She was a little calmer and is relying on you to rescue the gown.’

‘I think I can, but I will need to have a join halfway down the skirt. I thought of disguising it with ribbon. I am unpicking the skirt now.’

‘It was very naughty of her to blame you. I am sure she will apologise when she wakes up.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Jane, are you very unhappy?’

‘Unhappy, Mama, what makes you think that?’

‘I thought perhaps the arrival of Mr Ashton might have cast you in the suds.’

Jane managed to laugh. ‘After ten years, Mama? Certainly not.’

‘I am glad. I know he is now wealthy and sure of himself, but his wealth has come from trade; he is still not a gentleman, nor ever can be.’

‘Not in the sense you mean it, Mama, but gentlemanly behaviour and good manners can be learned and I doubt Mr Ashton’s antecedents, or lack of them, will make him any less popular in the ton.’

‘So, you do still have feelings for him?’

‘No, Mama, I do not. I was simply trying to be fair to him.’ She realised suddenly that what she had said was true. It was not Andrew Ashton who disturbed her heart, but someone much closer to home.

‘It is so like you to see the good in everyone, Jane. But if it is not Mr Ashton, what is troubling you?’

‘It is Isabel. She seems not to be able to look beyond the wedding day itself and I am afraid she is in for a rude awakening.’

‘I cannot think why. Mark is the best of men, he can be relied upon to do his best to make her happy. You must not begrudge her her day, just because...’ Her ladyship stopped in mid-sentence.

‘Because I will never have one of my own, is that what you were going to say, Mama? Do not think it. I do not. I am content with my life as it is.’

‘But every young lady dreams of being married.’

‘Not every young lady, Mama.’ She was firm on that score, as much to convince herself as her mother.

‘You are a good daughter and a good sister, Jane. I would not change you for the world. Teddy tells me you are going to help him out of the coil he is in, since his papa will not, in spite of my pleading.’

‘I didn’t exactly say I would, I said I would think about it. It will take all of Aunt Matilda’s bequest and I so wanted to use it for my orphanage.’

‘Papa will make it up to you, when he has calmed down, I am sure.’ She watched as Jane detached the stained skirt panel and set it aside. ‘Now, put that away and come downstairs for nuncheon. I have no doubt the gentlemen will be back later this afternoon and we must offer our excuses for Isabel and make little of this morning’s episode.’

* * *

Jane had done as she was bid and was back at her sewing in the parlour while her mother finished off the invitations when Mark and Drew returned.

‘Forgive me for returning so soon,’ Mark said, bowing to her ladyship. ‘But I was concerned for Isabel. She was so distraught, I feared she was going to make herself ill.’

‘It was the shock of seeing the ink on her lovely wedding gown,’ her ladyship told him, beckoning the young men to be seated and instructing the maid to bring refreshments. ‘She is calm again now that she knows Jane can put it right.’

‘I am working on it now,’ Jane said. ‘I am hopeful that no one will ever know it has been altered.’

‘Dear Jane,’ Mark said. ‘So dependable, so calm in a crisis. We are indebted to you.’

Jane felt the colour flood her face. ‘You are a flatterer, sir. I beg you to desist. I only do what any sister would do.’

‘That is for others to judge.’ To have calmly said she would rescue the gown after Isabel herself had spoiled it and blamed her for it was unselfish to a degree. Isabel had not bothered to lower her voice and it had carried clearly as they were leaving. Delightful Isabel might be, delightful and beautiful, but she also had a fiery temperament, which took no account of other people’s feelings. Yet Jane was always thinking of other people before herself. Why was he comparing them? He had been doing too much of that lately and it did not bode well.

‘I had better put this away.’ She folded the gown in its tissue and laid it to one side. ‘Now we can have tea without fear of another spillage.’

‘How did it happen?’ Drew spoke for the first time.

‘Isabel is convinced that it is unlucky for the bridegroom to see the wedding dress before the bride joins him at the altar. She was in haste to have it out of sight before you were shown in and so managed to overturn the ink bottle.’

‘I thought it might be that,’ he said. ‘I am glad the gown is not ruined, but I brought this for your sister in the hope it might make up a little for her loss.’ He picked up the brown paper parcel he had been holding on his knee and handed it to Lady Cavenhurst. ‘If you would be so kind as to allow her to accept it?’

‘What is it?’ her ladyship asked, a little doubtfully.

‘It is nothing very much, my lady. A length of silk for a sari. Miss Isabel expressed an interest last evening. If she does not wish to use it as a sari, I believe there is enough material to make a gown. Call it a wedding present.’

‘How very kind of you.’ Her ladyship unwrapped the parcel to find a length of silk in a deep pink that was very similar to that of the wedding gown. There was yards and yards of it but, because it was so fine, it could be folded into a very small parcel.

‘It is beautiful,’ Jane said, reaching forward to touch it. ‘Isabel will be thrilled with it. Mark, what do you say?’

‘Oh, undoubtedly,’ he answered.

‘I brought it from India,’ Drew said. ‘Not only that one, but several others. When I knew I was coming here, I put them in my baggage as gifts for the ladies.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘It is good business, you know. The ladies wear gowns made of the silk and when they are asked where they came by them, they refer to me. I chose that one for Miss Isabel because I noticed the colour of the one that had been spoiled.’

‘How thoughtful of you,’ murmured Lady Cavenhurst. ‘And if Mark has no objection, I will make sure she has it.’

‘I have no objection, why should I?’ Mark said. ‘Drew has already presented my mother with one.’

‘Would you care for one, Lady Cavenhurst?’ Drew asked.

‘That is very kind of you, sir, but I think not. I do not have the figure for such a thing.’

‘As you wish.’ He turned to Jane. ‘What about you, Miss Cavenhurst? Would you like one?’

‘As Mama said, it is very kind of you, but I could not possibly accept such a gift. It is enough that you have promised to donate to my orphan charity.’ It was the answer expected of an unmarried lady, but she could not help feeling a pang of disappointment. She had never seen or touched so fine a fabric.

Isabel, who had heard and seen the gentlemen arrive from her bedchamber window, had hurriedly renewed her toilette and came to join them. Both men stood up and Mark hurried to take both her hands in his. ‘Are you feeling better, my dear?’

‘Yes, don’t fuss, Mark. I was upset because I thought my gown was ruined, but Mama told me Jane can fix it, so all is not lost, after all.’ She turned to Drew. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Ashton. I am sorry I did not greet you properly earlier. Please forgive me.’ This was said with a dazzling smile.

He bowed to her. ‘It is understandable, Miss Isabel. Gentlemen sometimes do not understand the importance of a lady’s dress.’

She gave a tinkling laugh. ‘But you do, is that so?’

Jane was shocked at her sister’s offhand treatment of Mark and her obvious attempt to flirt with Drew. ‘Sit down, Issie,’ she said. ‘The gentlemen cannot be seated again until you do.’

Jane was sitting beside her mother on one sofa, so Isabel sat on the other. Mark seated himself beside her and Drew found a chair. It was then Isabel noticed the silk in her mother’s lap. ‘What have you there, Mama?’

‘It is a sari, my love. A wedding present to you from Mr Ashton.’

‘A sari! Oh, Mama, may I accept it?’

‘Mark has said you may, so I have no objection.’

Isabel was on her feet again and letting the material cascade over her arm in shining ripples. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said, bright-eyed. ‘Oh, thank you, Mr Ashton. You are so thoughtful, I am overwhelmed.’

‘I thought it could be used for a new wedding gown if the other was ruined.’

‘But it is not ruined and I want to keep this as a sari. There are yards and yards of it. How is it worn?’

‘I think you will need the help of your maid. There is a knack to it.’

‘Bessie would not have any idea. Can you show me?’

‘Isabel, I am sure Bessie will manage it when you are in your own room,’ her mother said. ‘The parlour is hardly the place to dress, especially with gentlemen present.’

‘Mr Ashton can show me on himself.’

‘Isabel!’ Her mother was shocked.

‘I am too big and too clumsy,’ Drew said, laughing. ‘I have printed instructions with illustrations for the benefit of European ladies. I will have a copy sent over for your maid to study.’

‘That will serve admirably,’ her ladyship said. ‘Isabel, I suggest you fold it up and take it to your room before you knock your tea all over it.’

‘Anyone would think I was clumsy,’ she said.

‘No, but you are somewhat excitable,’ her mother said. ‘I beg you to calm yourself.’

Isabel disappeared with the sari and the others drank their tea in silence for a minute or two. Jane was shocked by her sister’s behaviour. She would not blame Mark if he gave her a put down when he managed to find her on her own. What motive did Mr Ashton have for making the gift? Was it simply as he had said, a wish to help over the accident with the gown, or was there more to it? He was evidently attracted to her sister. Was Isabel aware of it? Was Mark? He would never believe ill of Isabel. Or was she herself seeing more than was really there?

‘The weather is set fair for the next few days,’ Mark said. ‘I promised to show Drew more of our county and we plan an excursion to Cromer tomorrow. I wondered if Miss Cavenhurst and Isabel might like to join us, if you and they agree, my lady?’

‘I can see no harm in it,’ her ladyship said. ‘What do you say, Jane? Do you think Isabel would like it?’

‘I am sure she would,’ Jane answered. She was not so sure about wanting to go herself, but if her sister went then she would have to go, too, or their mother would never allow it.

‘That’s settled then,’ Mark said, rising to leave. ‘We will come at ten o’clock tomorrow morning with the carriage.’

The men bowed to the ladies and left.

* * *

‘When did you think of an outing to Cromer?’ Drew asked, as they walked back to Broadacres. ‘You did not mention it before we came.’

‘I thought the ladies might like it. It might serve to put Isabel in a calmer frame of mind and give Jane a little reward for the hard work she does. You have no objection, have you?’

‘None at all.’

* * *

Wyndham’s carriage was as comfortable as any well-sprung travelling coach could be; there was plenty of room inside for four. Hadlea to Cromer was not above twenty miles and they arrived in a little under two hours, having spent the time in idle chatter, most of it led by Isabel quizzing Drew about India and his travels.

They pulled up at an inn in the lower part of the village near the church, where Jeremy, the coachman, and the horses would be looked after while they strolled along the beach. It had been warm in the coach, but as soon as they were out of it, they felt the cool breeze blowing off the sea. ‘I am glad we decided to bring warm shawls,’ Jane said, wrapping hers closer about her. Like her sister, she was wearing a muslin gown and a sarsenet pelisse. Hers was striped in two shades of green, Isabel’s was white. They both wore straw bonnets firmly tied on with ribbon.

‘Would you prefer to stay in the carriage?’ Mark asked her. ‘Or go to a hotel?’

‘Certainly not,’ she answered. ‘I came for the bracing sea air and that is what I mean to have. What about you, Issie?’

‘Me, too. I am sure the gentlemen do not want to be cooped up indoors and I am not a bit cold. I want to go down on the sand.’

‘Then you shall,’ Mark said, offering her his arm.

She took it, leaving Jane to walk beside Drew, though she did not take his arm. They strolled down a narrow cobbled road at the end of which they had their first view of the beach and the sea. ‘It looks cold,’ Jane said.

‘It nearly always is,’ Mark said, turning to her with a chuckle. ‘There is nothing between Cromer and the Arctic, except sea. But at least that is calm today. Would you like to go bathing? It is supposed to be beneficial and there are machines down there if you would like it.’ It was early in the summer, though a few brave souls were taking a dip.

‘No, I do not think so,’ she said. ‘I shall be content to watch.’

‘It must seem even colder to you, Mr Ashton, after the heat of India,’ Isabel said.

‘Oh, I am a hardy soul, Miss Isabel. I might take a dip myself. What do you say, Mark?’ There were men in the sea a little further along the beach, but the girls would not go near them, for they nearly always took to the water naked, unlike the women who were hampered by voluminous clothing and did not stir far from the bathing machines where they changed.

‘I think I should stay with the ladies,’ Mark said. ‘But do you go if you have a mind to.’

Drew would not go alone and all four made their way down a cliff path on to the sand. The beach was not crowded and they walked towards the water’s edge. Jane was more inclined to stride out when they reached the firmer wet sand and Mark kept up with her. Drew, behind them, stooped to pick up a flat round stone and threw it into the sea in such a way it bounced along the waves two or three times before it disappeared.

Isabel clapped her hands. ‘Oh, how clever of you, Mr Ashton! Do show me how to do it.’

He picked up another stone and put it into her hand. ‘You need to throw it quite hard and keep the trajectory low,’ he said. ‘Set it spinning flat as it leaves your hand.’

She tried and failed and tried again. ‘No, do it like this,’ he said, taking her hand and closing her fingers round the stone. Mark and Jane, who had gone a little ahead, turned to see why the other two were not close behind and were greeted with the sight of Drew with his arms about Isabel, trying to direct her aim. And they were both laughing.

‘Oh, dear,’ Jane said. ‘Isabel has no sense of propriety at all. It is as well there is no one on the beach who knows us.’

‘It is not her fault,’ Mark said. ‘Drew sometimes forgets he is not still in India where no doubt such familiarity is allowed.’

Jane did not know how accurate that statement was, but it was so like Mark to see no harm in his beloved. She hurried back to her sister, followed by Mark.

‘Drew has been teaching me how to make a pebble bounce,’ Isabel called to them. ‘Do come and try it.’

Jane could not rebuke her sister in front of others, but as they walked further along the beach she contrived to draw her out of earshot of the gentlemen. ‘I hate to scold, Issie, but really, you should not have allowed Mr Ashton to put his arm round you, nor should you have referred to him by his given name. Surely, you know better that that.’

‘Oh, don’t be such a fusspot, Jane. There was no harm in him showing me how to spin a pebble and Mark always uses Mr Ashton’s given name. It just slipped out.’

‘I am sure it did, but do try to be more careful.’

‘You are a fine one to talk. You have been seen in the village with Mark’s arms about you. Sophie had it off her friend, Maud Finch. Mrs Finch saw you with her own eyes.’

Jane had a vague memory of seeing Mrs Finch talking to Mrs Stangate when she met Mark and Drew on the village green. ‘I stumbled and he prevented me from falling,’ she said. ‘You may trust Mrs Finch to make a mountain out of a molehill and Sophie should not have repeated it.’

‘You have quite ruined my day with your scolding.’ Isabel pouted. ‘I was having such fun.’

But it was not long before she was holding her skirts up in her hand and racing over the sand to the water’s edge, laughing as the waves rippled over her kid shoes, which would undoubtedly be thrown out when they arrived home. Jane felt unhappy about the rebuke. It had made her sound a killjoy and she had not meant it to be like that at all. Her concern was for Mark. He had said nothing and even tried to excuse Isabel, but underneath he must have been feeling hurt. And if Mrs Finch’s gossip reached his ears he would be doubly embarrassed.

Further along the beach they watched some fishing boats unloading their cargo of crabs and Mark bought two for the girls to take home for their cook and then they returned to the promenade for refreshments in the Red Lion. A short walk along the cliff top followed when they all used Drew’s telescope to scan the beach and the horizon.

‘How close everything looks,’ Jane said. ‘Why, I can see the sailors on the deck of that ship and its name quite clearly. It’s called Morning Star.’

‘That is the vessel that brought me home from India,’ Drew said. ‘It is a very good ship, well run and fast. It is something like that I have a mind to purchase.’

‘And then Mark and I will go to India on it,’ Isabel said. ‘Three more weeks to go. I can’t wait. Will you be sailing on her, too, Mr Ashton?’

‘It depends on what turns up,’ he said. ‘Perhaps.’

‘I think it is time we made our way back to the coach,’ Jane said. ‘Mama will be wondering what has become of us.’

* * *

The coach deposited them back at the Manor at five o’clock. Jane and Isabel said goodbye to their escorts and carried the parcel of crabs into the house. They were tired but happy, ready to regale their mother with what they had seen and done. No one that evening thought about tragedy and Isabel had ceased to moan about bad omens and suchlike fancies.

* * *

They had not expected to see Mark again so soon, but he arrived at an unheard-of hour next morning, looking so sorrowful that Jane immediately wondered what was wrong. Sir Edward had gone out to the stables to check on one of the horses that seemed lame, but the ladies were still seated at the breakfast table.




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