will never have Mannerling.’
‘Lizzie,’ pleaded Jessica, ‘I thought when I told you that Mr Harry was to marry Miss Habard that we had put hopes of Mannerling behind us. We have been happy, have we not?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Lizzie in a little voice. ‘Mostly I forget, but I dream a lot, and in my dreams we are all home again and none of this has ever happened.’
For once, in their minds, her sisters were of the same mind as Miss Trumble. The sooner they got Lizzie away from the influence of Mannerling, the better.
The date of departure was set for a week later, and the girls grew increasingly excited at the prospect of the visit. Robert was to send a carriage for them, a fact that delighted Lady Beverley, who had been beginning to worry about the expense of a post-chaise.
Fortunately for Miss Trumble, Robert had made it very clear that he expected her to be of the party; otherwise Lady Beverley would have made her stay in the role of housekeeper.
On the morning of the day they were to depart, Jessica went in search of Barry and found him feeding the hens.
He eyed her with a certain wariness, hoping she had not heard any news from Mannerling. But it soon became evident that Jessica had heard nothing and was seeking him out to find out if he had.
‘Do you know if Mr Harry is betrothed to Miss Habard?’ she asked.
Barry sent up a prayer for forgiveness for the outright lie he was about to tell. ‘I believe he is, miss.’
Jessica felt relief instead of dismay. Just so long as there was no hope left of reclaiming Mannerling, she could forget the place and life could go on.
As they went out to the carriage that had arrived from Tarrant Hall, Barry helped the Sommerville footman and groom load the luggage on the roof. And then, just as Lady Beverley went back into the house to fetch a favourite fan, Barry saw John, the sneaky footman from Mannerling, lounging up the drive, his eyes alight with curiosity. Barry moved forward to stop him from approaching any nearer.
‘You’re trespassing,’ said Barry. ‘Off with you.’
John ignored him. ‘Where are that lot off to, then?’ he asked. ‘I was riding past on my road back from Hedgefield and saw the carriage.’
‘Be off with you,’ hissed Barry. ‘You’ve no business here.’
‘I worked as footman for Lady Beverley. I’m sure my lady will want to say good day to me.’
Barry looked at him in a fury. He did not want the gossiping John to know that the Beverleys were going to Tarrant Hall. He did not want them anywhere near the family in case he told them about Harry’s rejection.
John strolled past him with an insolent sneer on his face. Barry seized his arm and twisted it up his back and marched him back down the drive to where his horse was tethered to a tree. He gave him a final shove towards it. ‘Mount,’ he growled, ‘or I’ll draw your cork.’
John looked at Barry’s pugnacious face and quickly threw himself up into the saddle. Feeling safer, he leaned down. ‘There’s something going on here,’ he said. ‘I’ll find out what it is.’ He suddenly lashed out at Barry’s face with his riding crop, but Barry nimbly jumped back. John wheeled his horse and set off at a smart canter. Barry shook his worried head. He would need to warn the remaining servants not to gossip. Then he returned to make his goodbyes to the Beverleys. No doubt Robert Sommerville would tell them about Mr Harry, but by that time they would be safe in his home.
Fortunately for Barry, Harry Devers was in London, so John, the footman, was unable to seek him out and tell him about the odd goings-on at Brookfield House. Harry was surfacing from a heavy drunken sleep when his man awoke him to tell him that his friend, Captain Gully Fawcett, had called.
‘Good old Gully,’ said Harry. ‘Show him up and get me a seltzer. Oh, my head.’
Gully sloped into the room. He was a tall, thin man with a weak face and pale eyes.
‘You look a wreck,’ he said