Free Debt of Honor by Ann Clement

glanced at the boys. “How about some lemonade in the garden for you, William and Henry?”
    “Thank you,” Mrs. Vernon replied while her sons squealed their approval and dashed for the back door, apparently perfectly acquainted with the layout of the house. Their mother took Letitia’s arm as they walked toward the drawing room. “I am most obliged, Lady Letitia.” She sighed with relief. “Percy is always so kind. I do not know what I would do without him since my husband’s death. He’s been the closest friend a woman in my situation could imagine and wish for.”
    In the end, the introduction into household management had to be postponed until the next day. After breakfast, Letitia applied herself, not without some disdain for the idea, to living up to Sir Percival’s standards of marital accord and felicity, to a review of the contents of Bromsholme’s closets. Luckily, Mrs. Waters’s open, garrulous nature made time go fast.
    In the course of an hour, she found out that a nearby estate, Pythe Park, belonged to a Mr. Wilkinson, who lived there with his son and daughter, but the younger Mr. Wilkinson was now traveling on the Continent. Mr. Petre, the steward, was remarkably competent, though the sixth and youngest son of a viscount, and thus left to shift for himself without the fortune his eldest brother commanded. Mr. Vernon had died suddenly of apoplexy three years ago, leaving his widow well provided for. And Mr. Slater had been a butler to the family since the days when Sir George and his lady were still alive.
    But it was the mention of the first Lady Hanbury that drew Letitia’s undivided attention.
    “This was her ladyship’s favorite cushion.” Mrs. Waters sighed and smoothed the flowery design of a needlepoint cover. “She always kept it on her bed. But as it was made by Sir Percival’s grandmother, it didn’t seem right to send it with Lady Hanbury’s other possessions to her parents.”
    “I’m afraid I do not understand, Mrs. Waters.” Letitia was now keenly interested in what the housekeeper had to say.
    Mrs. Waters carefully deposited the cushion back in the drawer. “Sir Percival sent all his wife’s books, clothes and personal belongings to her family,” she explained.
    “He did?”
    “Aye, and that was only the beginning.” The housekeeper nodded. “As soon as her ladyship’s apartment was emptied, he had an architect here and changed the entire upper floor. All the rooms are different on that side of the house. And then he had the entire eastern side changed too, where his and my lady’s rooms are now.”
    “You mean, our apartments are now on the opposite side of the house than during his first marriage?” Why ever would he do something like that? And why couldn’t he just move the furniture from one place to another?
    Mrs. Waters nodded again. “Sir Percival’s and Lady Hanbury’s apartments used to be on the western side of the house. When her ladyship died, the master was in such despair, like I never saw any other man.”
    “Was it… Did she die in childbirth?”
    Mrs. Waters shook her head.
    “Sadly, there were no children. Lady Hanbury’s health was never good. She often spent her days in bed, without taking any nourishment. Melancholy, the doctor said. Yet the summer she died, she was greatly improved and seemed so happy. Until that last day, when she shut herself in her chamber. The master went up in the afternoon and found her dead. When we ran upstairs to see what happened, Sir Percival lay on the bed, holding his beloved wife in his arms, and cried like a child.”
    Mrs. Waters’s eyes turned suspiciously shiny. “Lady Hanbury looked so bad, all blue and purple, but he wouldn’t let go of her.” She sniffed loudly. “Aye, how we all cried, we felt so sorry for him. Sir Percival has never been the same since that day. And then, only a week after her funeral, he ordered the upper floor to be demolished and rebuilt. I heard the young Mr. Wilkinson