Hall soon to see how you are settling in.’
‘At least we shall have time to settle before Christmas,’ Selina said. ‘I am feeling much better for your visit, sir. Please, will you dine with us—and stay the night?’
‘I should be delighted to dine,’ Mr Breck said. ‘However, I think a room at the inn might be advisable—now that the three of you are alone. It was different when your dear mama was alive.’
‘Yes, very different,’ Selina said, and the tears caught at her throat.
She blinked hard, because weeping would not help them. Her sisters were relying on her to make a life for them. It would be hard for them all, moving to a new house and leaving their friends behind. Her youngest sister was upset enough as it was.
‘But Mama is at peace now, sir. She would not want us to break our hearts for her. Mama loved us dearly. She would want us to be happy—and that is what I intend. I shall do my best to make it a good Christmas. I know I speak for my sisters when I say you and your family would be welcome to visit with us this year. We may have a few guests—for I am sure we shall make friends with some of our neighbours—but I should be honoured if you would come to stay for a few days, sir.’
‘Well, if that isn’t handsome of you, Miss Searles.’ The lawyer beamed his pleasure. ‘I shall ask Mrs Breck her pleasure and be sure to let you know what plans she has—but I am truly honoured to be asked.’
‘Mr Breck is very kind,’ Amy said after their guest had left that evening. ‘I should not have dared to take Papa’s pistols had he not said I might. There are several things that Papa thought of as his own, and if we take all of them, we might sell one or two if need be.’
‘Do not take anything of real value, Amy, or anything that Cousin Joshua might think is his by right. It would only bring him down on us, and although he might not actually demand we return it, he would certainly make us aware that we had something of his,’ Selina warned.
‘He is such a beast,’ Amy said, and set her mouth in a mutinous line. ‘There is a picture in Papa’s study that I should love …’
‘Please do not be tempted, dearest. I know the one you mean and it is quite valuable. Father inherited it himself, so it was not his personal property. Cousin Joshua would be sure to notice that—and I really do not care to have him preaching at me again.’
‘Oh …’ Amy sighed. ‘It is so hard to leave things we’ve known all our lives.’
‘Be grateful we have as much as we have,’ Selina replied. ‘It has been a long day. I am for my bed. Tomorrow we begin packing. I am determined to leave nothing behind that is ours—and I want to be ready within the three days.’
‘Supposing the earl’s nephew decides to come home to Banford Hall from Italy sooner rather than later?’
Selina frowned. ‘We must pray that he does not,’ she said. ‘Should he return we must take Mr Breck up on his offer to find us somewhere to rent, as we cannot afford to purchase even a small cottage. Or there is the possibility that I may be offered the position of housekeeper at Banford Hall for real.’
‘You wouldn’t truly take it?’
‘Only if we were desperate—and we are not that yet.’ Selina smiled at her. ‘Go up now, dearest. If you are not tired, you may begin your packing.’
‘What about the books?’ Amy asked. ‘I suppose all the books belong to the library and are therefore part of the entail?’
‘Mama’s own books are ours—but, yes, I suppose the others do belong here.’
‘I cannot leave my favourite poets!’ Amy wailed. ‘There are three books that never leave my bedside.’
‘I daresay Cousin Joshua will not notice those,’ Selina said with a smile. ‘Take them, but do not pack a trunk with books, Amy. I assure you he would notice if you cleared an entire shelf.’
‘No, just those three. After all, Mama did buy them for Papa—so in a way they are hers, or at least his personal possessions and therefore not part of the estate.’
Selina did not argue with her sister further. She was quite sure that Millie would also claim two or three books, as she might herself, but she could not truly deny any of them. Only an insensitive brute like Cousin Joshua would insist that they must leave their home so soon after Mama’s death. A kinder man would have allowed them to remain until Selina married and made other arrangements for her sisters.
She was thoughtful as she went to her own bedchamber and closed the door. Tears had been hovering all day, but she’d kept them at bay for the sake of her sisters. The prospect of leaving her home was tearing her apart inside, though she’d tried not to show it to her cousin or the lawyer. She knew that she was taking a huge risk by accepting Mr Breck’s offer. Here in her home, with all her familiar things about her and the servants who had known her all her life, she had managed very well, taking over the reins when her father died and her mama went into a slow decline. Being the mistress of an old house with just a handful of servants—some of whom she did not know—was a very different affair.
Selina’s head came up, and her expression was one of pride and determination, even though her eyes sparkled with the tears she still refused to shed. She would manage. Even if the nephew returned and they had to move to a tiny cottage, she would manage somehow.
She would contrive to give Amy a season next year, and with any luck, her vivacious sister would marry well and solve all their problems. With judicious economy, and by asking a favour of one of Mama’s friends, she might manage something for Amy, but it would be too much to expect the same for herself.
No, she must give up her hopes and dreams of a man she could love and respect—though if a presentable widower were to ask for her, she might just take him. All she asked was that he should be good-natured, and not a pompous prig like her cousin.
The thought of her cousin’s face when she’d accepted Mr Breck’s offer made her smile. Joshua had been so sure she would cave in and marry him that his indignation had been almost amusing—except that she knew he would find some way of paying her back if he could.
CHAPTER TWO
‘MY UNCLE is dead?’ Robert Moorcroft looked up from the glass of wine he had been staring into and glared at his secretary. ‘No, damn it! I understood he expected to live at least a year or more. It was the reason he left England to find a warmer climate.’
‘He had a nasty chill,’ Henry Norton explained. ‘I daresay it was the stress of the journey from England or being caught in a sudden rainstorm. You knew he was a sick man, Robert. It was always on the cards that he might go suddenly.’
‘Poor devil. He expected to have a few months of peace and quiet—away from that barn of a place. It must have been hell for him these past few years. First his wife dead of a fever and then two of his sons—both succumbed to the same sickness.’
‘I daresay it was an inherited weakness. You told me Eliza Benton was always sickly.’
‘Yes, I imagine so.’ Robert nodded morosely. ‘It didn’t help living in that draughty old house, I daresay.’
‘Why do you dislike it so?’
‘I
