other of garnets, that he gave me on the birth of our daughters. I have no idea of their worth; I never thought of them as assets, but as keepsakes.’
‘My dear Lady Hobart, surely it has not come to such a pass?’
‘I am sorry, I have embarrassed you, but, believe me, it is no greater than the embarrassment I feel being obliged to ask.’
‘Do not think of it.’ He looked thoughtful for a moment. She must certainly be helped to leave Easterley Manor and whether she went ahead with her school idea or not, she needed money. Cecil Hobart would never provide her with any. ‘As you know, Lord Hobart left money in trust for your daughters,’ he said slowly. ‘It was intended to be for their come-out and dowries and any expenditure the trustees felt necessary for their well-being. I think such an occasion has arisen. I will put it to them and let you know what they say. How much do you think you will need?’
‘It depends how much I have to pay to rent a house, and how long before fee-paying pupils arrive, but I have worked out some rough figures.’ She took two folded sheets of paper from her reticule and handed them to him. ‘Do you think the trustees will agree?’
‘When I put the position to them, I think they will. The welfare of your daughters must come before all other considerations and their welfare is not best served living at Easterley Manor.’ It was as near as he was going to go to admitting he knew what Cecil was like. ‘Can you sit tight for a week or two until you hear from me?’
‘Yes. I am not a child, Mr Hardacre, I can stand up for myself, and there are plenty of good, kind people up at the house to keep an eye on the girls, though I rarely let them out of my sight.’ She paused. ‘May I begin looking for a house?’
‘Yes, I see no reason why you should not. But you will not be able to sign a lease or anything like that, not until I have obtained the consent of the trustees.’
‘I understand.’
He rose. ‘If you walk back to the Dog and Fox with me, I will advance you a few guineas. I carry very little with me because of the fear of highwaymen, but I have a little in a strong box stowed under the seat of my coach. I have to pay my reckoning at the inn and for horses and meals on my return journey to London, which is a prodigious amount, but you are welcome to what I do not need.’
‘Thank you. I will repay you as soon as I can.’
He reached across and patted the back of her hand, which had been anxiously twisting the cord of her reticule. ‘I know you will. I wish all my clients were as particular.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘But as I usually hold the purse strings and can expedite or delay at my pleasure, the situation usually resolves itself.’
‘Is Lord Hobart going to have his father’s will overturned, Mr Hardacre?’ she asked suddenly. ‘He said he would.’
‘He would like to try, but I pointed out to him that, apart from the estate, there was not a great deal of unentailed money for him to draw on and, if he took that course, the only people to gain would be the lawyers. I think he saw my point.’
‘So he must marry money and have children.’ Cecil’s children, being the old man’s grandchildren, would share the legacy of her daughters.
‘I believe that is his intention. He spoke about you. He asked me if it was lawful to marry a half-brother’s widow.’
‘I cannot believe he was in earnest. But even if he were, I would not marry that man at any price.’
Feeling much more cheerful, she rose and they walked side by side out of the church and down the village street to the inn. They passed the smithy on the way and she noticed the stranger’s beautiful white horse was no longer there. Did that mean he had taken her advice and left Parson’s End? She wished she could get rid of those two toad-eaters still at the Manor as easily.
She was on her way home, with five guineas tucked safely into her reticule, when she was