An Unusual Bequest (12 page)

That was not Charlotte’s idea at all, but she decided not to tell him so. She must do nothing to jeopardise her plans now there seemed a chance they might be brought to fruition. ‘Did he mention the rent?’

‘No, that is up to you to negotiate. He is a generous man and, as I said, a true Christian and I do not think money is his first consideration. I will be disappointed in him if it is.’

‘Then I must see him at the first opportunity.’

‘He is in London at the moment. He told me he had to go to the Admiralty for his orders, and then see to the outfitting of his new ship, but he intends to come back before he sails. You will be able to see him then.’

Her heart sank; as soon as he had told her the news she wanted to rush off and make all the arrangements—now she must wait again. She rose to go. ‘Thank you very much, Reverend. I shall wait patiently to hear from you that Captain MacArthur is back and will see me.’

He rose too and conducted her to the kitchen where Mrs Fuller was busy making bread, a great deal more than could possibly be needed for two people, Charlotte noted, guessing that the extra was destined for the poor. It reminded her that it was over two weeks since she had taken a basket of food to the village. She would have to sneak some out from under Cecil’s nose. She smiled wryly to herself. Did the larder and its contents still belong to Cecil? It was a measure of her returning confidence that she could smile at all.

The girls were reluctant to be dragged from the kittens, but came away on the promise they could visit them again in a day or two. Once on the lane, heading towards the Manor, Charlotte took stock. She had to stay there a little longer, so whoever was now in charge must not be antagonised, not until she was ready. How much would the Captain want in rent? How much would Viscount Darton get for her jewellery? Who would come back first, the Viscount or the Captain? She had better write to Mr Hardacre to acquaint him with the latest developments. He would, as her man of business, have to sign the rental agreement and he might still be trying to persuade the trustees to release some of the girls’ legacy. If the sale of her jewels did not realise enough, she might still need some of that. But it would be paid back with interest, on that she was determined. Lizzie and Fanny would not lose their dowries or their come-out. That was the most important thing in a young lady’s life apart from her betrothal and marriage.

‘Can we go for a walk on the beach?’ Fanny asked. ‘I don’t want to go home yet.’

‘Yes, why not?’ she said. She did not want to go back to the Manor any sooner than she must and while she was on the cliff she would take a look at the outside of The Crow’s Nest.

The house was a little way from the village on the southern side of the Hobart estate. It stood close to the edge of the cliff and she made a mental note that it would have to be fenced. With the children trailing behind her, she walked all round the property. It was a large house, with a strange turret at one end, from the top of which, on a good day, she surmised, one could see for miles out to sea; no wonder the Captain had dubbed it The Crow’s Nest.

The house was nothing like as big as Easterley Manor, but, as far as she could see by peering in those windows that were not shuttered, there were several reception rooms downstairs, two of which were big enough to be used as classrooms. There was a coach house and a stable and a small garden. Its isolation was, perhaps, a drawback; there were no other buildings in sight except the lighthouse and the little cottage where the old footman, Jenkins, lived. Later, she might go and see him; she would need a man about the place and he might be glad of a few shillings to supplement the tiny pension the late Lord Hobart had arranged for him.

Having seen all she could, she gave in to the girls’ entreaties to be allowed to go down the path to the beach. Walking along the sand, she was reminded of the last time she had walked there and been accosted by Viscount Darton. She had been unsure of his motives, prickly as a hedgehog, mistrustful, wary. But then he had not made it easy to trust him, had he? He was often uncivil and as much of a gambler as Cecil, the only thing that was different was that he seemed to be more successful. Had he really been thinking of her all along, wanting to act the knight in shining armour, or was that something he had dreamed up after he arrived? He could not have known anything about her before he arrived.

But he
had
given her back her jewels. And taken them away again. She had meekly allowed him to ride off with them. Supposing he didn’t come back? Supposing he simply took the last, the very last, of her possessions and kept them for himself? She had only his word that he meant to sell them for her. How he would be laughing at her naïveté! The thought drained the blood from her face and made her stumble.

He wasn’t like that, she scolded herself, as she regained her balance. She had looked into his eyes and seen only compassion; she had stood in his arms and he had comforted her. He had won the jewels at the gaming table and would have been entitled to keep them and had no need even to tell her of it. Instead he had brought them to her. He had asked her if she trusted him and she had said she did. She had been absolutely sure, when she spoke, that it was the truth. Why the doubts now? ‘Dear God, I hope and pray I was right to trust him,’ she murmured. ‘Otherwise we are undone.’

She turned back to the girls, who were standing at the water’s edge, gazing out over the sea at a ship riding at anchor in the bay, trying to guess whence it came. ‘The
Orient
,’ Lizzie said. ‘It is loaded with silks and tea and spices to be sold in Ipswich.’

‘No, it’s a pirate ship,’ Fanny said. She liked to read adventure stories in which pirates and captured princesses figured largely.

‘Or smugglers,’ Lizzie said. ‘They are going to come into the bay when it gets dark and unload their contraband while we are asleep.’

Charlotte smiled. It was good to hear her daughters chatting happily again. Soon, God willing, the last few weeks would be nothing but a bad dream. ‘Come, girls, we must go,’ she said, holding out her hands to them. ‘The tide is coming in and we don’t want to be caught out by it.’

God willing, she repeated, as they made their way up the cliff path and back to Easterley Manor, a house, a roof over their heads, a source of sustenance, but no longer a home. God willing the nightmare would soon be over. ‘Stacey Darton, if you have an ounce of compassion, come back to me,’ she said to herself. ‘If you cannot love me, at least have mercy on me.’

Stacey had every intention of returning, just as soon as his errand had been accomplished, and no intention whatsoever of selling Charlotte’s jewellery. He had known when he suggested it that he could not bring himself to do it. Instead he had ridden to Ipswich and taken the London mail from the Great White Horse, leaving Ivor at the inn to be picked up on his return.

Luckily there were no incidents on the journey, no highwaymen, no broken wheels, no trees blown across the road and all the changes of horses and picking up of the mail went smoothly so that they arrived at the Spread Eagle in Gracechurch Street just before seven the following morning. The speed with which they had travelled precluded sleeping comfortably, but he was too fired up, his head too full of whirring thoughts to be able to do more than nod off now and again, only to be awakened at their next stop. As soon as the coach was at a standstill at its destination he was out of it and looking for a cab to take him to John Hardacre’s home in Piccadilly.

‘My lord,’ the lawyer greeted him when he had been shown into the breakfast room where John was sitting over ham and eggs and coffee. ‘I did not know you were in town.’

‘A flying visit, only. I am sorry to disturb you so early.’

‘Oh, you are not disturbing me. Will you join me?’ He rang for a servant to lay another place. ‘All is well at Malcomby Hall, I trust.’

‘As far as I know. I sent them my direction in case I should be needed urgently, but I have not been home since I saw you last. I have been staying at Easterley Manor.’

‘Good heavens! Why?’

‘Because of what you told me of your concern for Lady Hobart. I wanted to see for myself what was going on.’ He had rehearsed the answer to this question as he rode. ‘Hobart is a second cousin and, though the relationship is not close, I did not like the idea of him sullying the family name, even at a distance. And a lady in distress…’ He shrugged. ‘I could not ignore that.’

John smiled; it was why he had told Stacey of his concern. The young man was a hard-headed soldier, not given to sentimentality, but he was also a chivalrous man who could not pass by and do nothing when he knew there might be someone needing help. He had a large measure of curiosity too. John had told him just enough to arouse it. ‘What happened?’

The servant arrived with more hot dishes and a fresh pot of coffee and Stacey waited for him to go before answering. ‘He had the most evil collection of house guests it has been my misfortune to meet, all there to gamble. Hobart was in deep, very deep. He is a poor player and does not have the cool demeanour needed to deceive his opponents. I could read his expressions like a book and no doubt the others, who have known him longer, could do so too. He should never have sat at a gaming table.’

‘There you have it. It was why his father banished the young rakeshame and nearly ruined himself paying off his debts. So what was the outcome? I assume he lost.’

‘Everything. I believe even now the winners are stripping the house of everything valuable.’

‘I feared that might happen. And Lady Hobart. How is she?’

‘Almost breaking under the strain. Hobart even stole her jewellery and what little money she had and gambled that away.’

‘Good God! She must be got out of there at once. I will have to write to Lord Falconer.’

‘Lord Falconer? You mean old Falconer of Rickmansworth?’

‘Yes, Lady Hobart’s great-uncle, younger brother to her maternal grandfather. He came to the title when her grandfather died without a male heir. Did you not know that?’

Stacey was taken aback. That Charlotte was a lady in the true sense of the word he had never doubted; that she came from so illustrious a family had not occurred to him. Such a one would, in his opinion, never have lowered herself to teach in school. How wrong he had been! And he had been so condescending, had taken liberties he never would have done had he known. But why had she never told him? ‘No, I did not,’ he said. ‘I knew she was a lady, that much is easily deduced, but I had no idea she was so well connected.’

‘I am surprised you never learned of it. It is hardly a secret.’

Except from me, Stacey thought, and wondered why. ‘Why did she never apply to him when she found herself in straitened circumstances?’

‘I believe her mother was estranged from him. He is a stickler for protocol and proud that the Falconers can trace the family back to Henry the Eighth’s court and he heartily disapproved of her marrying Captain Delaney.’ He smiled a little. ‘Called him a no-good Irish sea captain.’

‘Was he?’

‘No, he was an honourable man and a baronet, went down with his ship at Trafalgar. His wife, Lady Hobart’s mother, died of a fever soon afterwards and then Lady Hobart lost her husband at Corunna. You did know that?’

‘Yes. Poor lady. The death of Lord Hobart must have seemed as if everyone was being taken from her. Is Lord Falconer likely to help her?’

‘Might, might not. He certainly said he never wanted to see his niece again. Age may have mellowed him, but it might have made him more obdurate.’

He was tempted to rush straight off and confront Lord Falconer, make him see that it was his duty to acknowledge his great-niece, but decided that would not serve. The man would ask him what business it was of his, might not even admit him and that would be a waste of time. It would be better to stick to his original plan. ‘Then we cannot wait to find out. I persuaded her to trust me, which wasn’t easy since I was gambling too. I won her jewellery back for her and have told her I would sell it for her, so that she can rent a house. She means to start a school.’

‘Yes, she told me of that, but I fear the pieces are not very valuable, they will only fetch a modest amount.’

‘I guessed as much, but, as I do not intend to do as she asked, it does not matter.’

‘What will you do, then?’

‘Keep them safe for her and see that she has enough money to achieve her goal,’ he said.

‘That is very generous of you, my lord, but do you think you are doing her any favours encouraging her? After all, teaching is hardly an occupation for a lady, you surely must agree.’

Stacey pondered on this for less than a minute. ‘No, I don’t, and the lady herself evidently does not think so, or she would not have endured the insults of her brother-in-law’s guests. I believe the school is something she feels very strongly about.’

‘That does not make it right. It is one thing to teach as an act of charity, quite another to make a business of it.’

‘I know that. It is why I am here. I will help her, but it must appear to come from you. You are one of the executors to the late Lord Hobart’s will, are you not? You could make the money over to her and pretend it came from the inheritance, something you had previously overlooked.’

‘I did tell her I would approach the other trustees with a view to releasing some of her daughters’ legacy…’

‘And have you?’

‘Unfortunately it needs the consent of all three trustees and, though I have written to them, I have not yet had a reply from Lord Swindon, who is out of the country until late in the year. My main aim was not to fund a school, but to help her to live quietly and bring up her daughters until they came of age. I cannot believe that she would consider running a school if she were not in straitened circumstances.’

‘Then you cannot have seen her with the children as I have,’ he said. ‘She is so at ease with them, not lofty, but not indulgent either. She has them well disciplined. And they love her. She is just the sort of person I could entrust with Julia.’

John laughed suddenly. ‘Oh, I see, you have a personal motive.’