Scandal At Greystone Manor. Mary NicholsЧитать онлайн книгу.

      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,