Scandal at Greystone Manor Read online

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Sir Edward said. ‘I’ll send for a footman and...’

  ‘No need, I can carry her. Lead the way.’ He bent to scoop Jane up again, evincing a little ‘oh’ from Jane and a bigger one from Isabel.

  ‘I will send someone for the doctor,’ Sir Edward said, turning away, leaving his wife to precede Mark with his burden up the stairs. No one spoke until Jane was safely deposited on her bed and the injured foot put on a cushion.

  ‘Thank you, Mark,’ she said. ‘I could not have managed without you.’

  ‘With your permission, Lady Cavenhurst, I will call tomorrow to see how the patient fares.’

  ‘Of course, you do not have to ask.’

  He bowed and took his leave.

  ‘Well, this is a fine state of affairs,’ her ladyship said, sitting on the bed beside her daughter. ‘You had better tell me exactly how it happened. And I do believe you have been drinking.’

  ‘We had some wine with our picnic.’

  ‘Picnic? I was given to understand you were going to look at a house for your home.’

  ‘So we did, but Mark had brought a picnic basket. After all, we were going to be gone some time. I believe it was Mrs Blandish’s idea. She thought Mark would be hungry.’

  ‘And did you stumble before or after you drank the wine?’

  ‘Mama, what are you saying? Do you think I was drunk? How could you? If you will stop quizzing me for a minute, I will tell you exactly how it happened.’

  There was a knock on the door and her sisters came into the room. ‘Are you badly hurt, Jane?’ Sophie asked. ‘What was it like to be carried by a man and a handsome one at that? I bet Issie is jealous.’

  ‘I am not,’ Isabel protested.

  ‘If you must know, it was humiliating and embarrassing,’ Jane said.

  ‘Then tell us all about it.’ Sophie plopped herself on the other side of the bed, making Jane cry out when her leg was disturbed. ‘Sorry, Jane.’ She moved away.

  ‘Is it very painful?’ Isabel asked, hovering at the bedside.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘I always thought that home orphanage idea was a bad one.’

  ‘It is not and this isn’t going to stop me. We have decided to take the house. It can be made good.’

  ‘By “we” you mean you and Mark, I suppose.’

  ‘And Mr Cecil Halliday. He is also a trustee.’

  ‘If it is in such a sorry state that it has broken stair treads, then it is perhaps not a good idea,’ their mother put in. ‘You might have been killed.’

  ‘But I wasn’t, was I? Mark was in front of me and he broke my fall.’

  ‘It seems we have a great deal to thank Mark for.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. He says the house can easily be put to rights and it will make an ideal home for the children.’

  ‘Mark this, Mark that—do you never tire of saying his name?’ Isabel demanded of Jane.

  ‘Hush, Isabel,’ their mother said. ‘There is no call to be jealous of Jane.’

  ‘I am not jealous, not even faintly, so you can forget that.’

  In the silence that followed they heard the front door knocker. Lady Cavenhurst went to greet the doctor and Isabel followed her from the room.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of Issie,’ Sophie said. ‘She has been a terrible crosspatch ever since you came back from London. Not a civil word out of her.’

  ‘She is unhappy, Sophie, she cannot help it.’

  ‘It is just like you to make excuses for everyone, Jane. Sometimes you are too kind and everyone takes advantage of you.’

  Jane laughed. ‘And you do not, I suppose.’

  ‘I try not to. The trouble with Issie is that she cannot make up her mind, especially when Mama and Papa keep on at her.’

  Before Jane could answer, her mother brought the doctor into the room and Sophie slipped out of it.

  While the doctor removed the now-dried bandage, Jane mused on what Sophie had said. Was Issie really being persuaded? If so, how genuine was it? It put the euphoria of her happy day with Mark into perspective. It was an interlude, an intermission, a pause in her humdrum life, a memory, no more, and she was left with the pain.

  * * *

  Mark went home, left the horse and curricle with Thompson, one of the grooms, and went indoors by the kitchen door, carrying the picnic basket. Mrs Blandish was there, preparing the evening meal. ‘You are back, Master Mark... Oops, I should have said “My lord”, shouldn’t I? I can’t seem to get used to it.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Mrs Blandish.’ He put the basket on the table.

  ‘Did you enjoy the picnic?’

  ‘Very much, though Miss Cavenhurst had a slight accident on the stairs at the house.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that, sir. I hope she was not badly hurt.’

  ‘A sprained ankle. But she enjoyed the food and desired me to tell you so.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. It is always good to be appreciated. Your mother is in the drawing room.’

  He went on his way. It was good to be appreciated and Jane had appreciated his help, too, but did everyone appreciate her? She hardly seemed to notice how much everyone relied on her—brother, father, sisters all made demands on her—but perhaps now she could not do so much, they might come to realise it. One thing he was determined on and that was to help her with her orphanage as far as he was able. There would be some hefty expenses and the trust might run out of money, but he could always assist there, not only from his own funds, but by calling on his many wealthy friends.

  His mother turned from gazing out of the window to smile at him as he came into the room and dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘How are you, Mama?’

  ‘I am well. How did it go?’

  He sat down near her and launched into a recital of all he and Jane had seen and done, and the fact that Jane had been hurt.

  ‘I must call on the Manor tomorrow,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll drive you over, Mama. I said I would go and see how Jane is and we need to talk again about raising more funds. Jane has suggested holding a fair in the village with stalls and competitions and donated prizes. I have said we could use Ten Acre Field for the venue, if you agree. It is far enough away from the house not to disturb you.’

  ‘Of course, but you are master here, Mark, you do not have to ask me.’

  ‘And you are still its mistress and I would do nothing to discommode you.’

  ‘Is Isabel still persisting in her foolish notion?’

  ‘I believe so. I have not seen her today, she is bored by the whole project and did not come with us.’

  ‘That is a pity. Going out with Jane unaccompanied is bound to cause gossip, however innocent it is.’

  ‘There is going to be a certain amount of gossip in any case if the engagement is cancelled.’

  ‘All the more reason not to invite more.’

  ‘But Jane needs my help.’

  ‘So she may do, but until you receive word from Sir Edward himself that the engagement has officially been broken off, I advise you to be a little more circumspect. You could even try being a little more attentive to Isabel.’ She smiled and patted his hand. ‘Now, away with you. I am supposed to be resting.’

  He left her and went to the library to write to Cecil Halliday, suggesting the trustees make an offer for Witherington House and followed that by making lists of what needed doing in an effort to take his mind off Jane. He had talked to his mother calmly, but he was feeling far from calm. He felt helpless, waiting for something to happen. It was like a storm gathering on the horizon and not knowing exactly where or when it would strike.

  Chapter Nine

  Jane was reclining on a sofa in the morning room, talking to her mother and Isabel about her prop
osals for fund-raising when Lady Wyndham arrived with Mark. Isabel immediately rose, curtsied to them both, muttered something about needing to find Sophie and left the room.

  ‘Please do not try to get up,’ Lady Wyndham said, putting a hand on Jane’s shoulder as she struggled to rise and ignoring Isabel’s hurried departure.

  The two older ladies kissed each other’s cheeks. ‘How are you, Helen?’ Grace asked, ringing for a servant. ‘You look a little better.’

  ‘I am. I do not think I shall ever recover completely from the loss of my dear Richard, but life must go on, you know. We came to see how Jane is. I was sorry to hear of her accident.’

  They seated themselves and Mark took a chair opposite Jane and leaned forward. ‘How are you, Jane? Did you manage to sleep?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Doctor Trench left a sleeping draught for me. I have to keep the limb up for a few days and then walk a little to see how I manage.’ She was aware that she sounded stiff and formal, but she felt embarrassed by what had happened the day before: drinking too much champagne; his touch, which set her limbs on fire; the way their bodies melded together as he lifted her on and off the curricle; the conversation which had, at times, been perhaps too personal, especially when talking of Isabel. It made her feel guilty, too, as if she had been disloyal.

  The maid returned with a tray containing a teapot, tea caddy and cups and Grace began dispensing tea, while continuing the conversation. ‘I question whether a house in such a dilapidated state is fit to make into a home, even for orphans,’ she said, addressing Lady Wyndham, as if orphans did not deserve a home such as other people enjoyed.

  ‘I did, too, but Mark assures me it can be put to rights, but it is a great responsibility for an unmarried lady to take on.’

  ‘The responsibility is divided between the trustees, of which I am one,’ Mark put in. ‘And I have told Jane I will help all I can.’

  ‘I appreciate that,’ Jane said quietly. ‘I will try not to call on you more than I have to.’

  ‘Call on me as often as you like.’

  ‘I do think it is a pity Isabel does not interest herself in the scheme,’ Helen said. ‘A man needs a wife who takes an interest in the things he is interested in, otherwise they may as well live separate lives.’

  ‘Oh, then...’ Grace stopped and looked at Mark.

  ‘Mother knows,’ he told her. ‘She is of the opinion Isabel will change her mind.’

  ‘Of course she will,’ Lady Cavenhurst said briskly. ‘It is only a silly fancy because she is nervous of the responsibilities she will have as Lady Wyndham. I have told her your mother will be there to guide her.’

  ‘Naturally, I will,’ her ladyship agreed.

  ‘Thank you,’ Grace said. ‘You are very understanding.’

  ‘Not at all. I remember how terrified I was when I married Wyndham. It was his mother who helped me.’

  Jane stole a glance at Mark who had taken no part in the conversation. His face was wooden. He sipped his tea and looked anywhere but at her. She was glad when the short visit came to an end and she could return to the plans for the fair which she had started. She needed to involve the whole village and the Reverend Caulder was the best one to help her. She would ask him to make a reference to it from the pulpit on Sunday. The swelling in her ankle would have abated by tomorrow and she would be able to hobble out to the trap and drive into the village. There was a crutch somewhere in the outbuildings that Teddy had used when he had broken his leg years before; if it could be found it would help her to walk to and from the trap.

  * * *

  She was driving round to the stables on her return from the village next afternoon when she noticed a carriage in the yard and wondered who the caller could be. Not Mark or his mother—she knew their vehicles; not anyone in the village, it was too grand and was dust-covered enough to have travelled some distance. The coachman was giving the horses buckets of water helped by Daniel. She stopped and used the crutch to support her as she climbed down. Daniel saw her predicament and ran to help her.

  ‘Who is our visitor?’ she whispered, as he helped her into the house by the kitchen door. The front steps were beyond her.

  ‘Mr Halliday.’

  ‘Oh.’ With the aid of her crutch she hobbled through the house to the drawing room, where she found her mother and sisters.

  ‘There you are, Jane,’ her ladyship said. ‘We have a visitor.’

  ‘So I perceived.’ She sank gratefully on to a sofa beside Sophie and laid the crutch on the floor beside it. Her leg was beginning to ache abominably after her exertions. ‘Is it Mr Halliday?’

  ‘Yes. He and your father have been closeted in the book room for hours. We have all been requested to wait in here until they emerge.’

  ‘Do you know why he is here? Did Papa send for him?’

  ‘I do not think so. They were both looking very serious.’ She appeared her usual calm self, but Jane could see she was trembling. ‘I suspect they are talking about making economies.’

  ‘Ugh, I hate that word,’ Isabel said.

  ‘Papa did warn us,’ Jane said.

  ‘So he did, but I cannot think he meant it. People like us just do not economise.’

  ‘People like us?’ Jane asked, lifting one eyebrow.

  ‘Gentry.’

  ‘Issie, gentry or not, we have to cut our coat according to our cloth.’

  ‘And that is a silly thing to say.’

  ‘How has your morning been, Jane?’ her mother asked, changing the subject abruptly. ‘How did you manage?’

  ‘I managed very well. Everyone was helpful. The Reverend Mr Caulder is going to speak about the Hadlea Children’s Home after his sermon on Sunday when he makes the usual announcements. He will ask the congregation to offer their services to help run the fair, and for donations for the stalls and the prizes. We have decided to have it on the last Saturday in August on the Ten Acre Field.’

  ‘Are you sure it will not overtax your strength?’ her ladyship queried.

  ‘Mama, I am as strong as an ox and my leg will be quite mended by then.’

  They heard a door open and close, then their father, followed by the senior Mr Halliday, entered the room. They both looked sombre. Sir Edward invited the lawyer to be seated and then drew up a chair to sit close to his wife. There was silence for a moment while everyone looked towards him expectantly.

  He cleared his throat. ‘My dear,’ he said, addressing his wife, ‘the situation is far worse than I thought. I am afraid we have to make changes in our way of life. Big changes.’

  ‘But why?’ she queried. ‘It is not as if you are a gambler like Teddy.’

  ‘I don’t gamble at the card table, it is true, but I gambled on the ’Change. The harvests have been bad for some time, but last year was the worst. The crops failed, the tenant farmers could not afford their rents and the Home Farm has made no profit at all in three years. In truth, it ran at a loss. My capital was dwindling and I thought buying and selling stock might see us through the worst of it. I was ill advised, not by Mr Halliday, but by others.’ He sighed heavily and appeared to be on the verge of tears. ‘I lost everything and in order to maintain our style of living I borrowed and allowed the debts to mount up. They are being called in and I cannot honour them.’

  ‘What are we to do?’ she asked, while their daughters looked from one to the other in shock. ‘Must we do as Jane suggested a few weeks ago and get rid of the carriage and horses and dismiss the servants?’

  Theodore Halliday interrupted with a gentle cough. ‘My lady, I am afraid such economies would not be enough. It is unfortunate that all Sir Edward’s debts have passed into the hands of a single person.’

  ‘Lord Bolsover.’ Jane had almost been holding her breath and she let it out on the man’s name.

  ‘I’m afraid so.
He has made no secret of the fact.’

  ‘What has the man against us?’ Jane asked. ‘Do you know, Mr Halliday?’

  ‘I am afraid I do not.’

  ‘Do you, Papa?’

  He shook his head without speaking. His face was white and his hands were shaking.

  She turned back to the lawyer. ‘Are his lordship’s claims valid?’

  ‘I am afraid they are.’ He paused. ‘Unless it is put out of his reach, he will claim the whole estate.’

  ‘Greystone Manor?’ Grace gasped. ‘He can’t do that, can he?’

  ‘I am afraid he can if your husband makes no effort to recompense him.’

  ‘But it is our home. The Cavenhursts have lived here for generations, ever since the Interregnum.’

  ‘I am inclined to think his motives might go back as far at that,’ Jane put in. ‘I found a headstone tucked away at the side of the churchyard. It said...’ She paused to make sure she had the wording correctly. ‘“Colin Bolsover Paget, beloved son of Lord and Lady Paget, died by his own hand, May 1649, aged twenty-seven years. May God forgive him and allow him eternal rest.” Do you think that might be significant?’

  ‘Perhaps, but whether it is or not will not help the present situation,’ the lawyer said.

  ‘What will help?’

  ‘We have to sell the Manor and move to a smaller house where we can live more economically,’ Sir Edward put in, speaking in a choked voice. ‘We have no alternative.’

  ‘Then Bolsover has won,’ Jane said.

  ‘Not quite,’ Mr Halliday put in. ‘If it is the Manor he wants, then selling it and paying him off with the proceeds will deprive him of it and leave enough for you to live in more modest surroundings.’

  ‘Where?’ demanded Isabel. ‘We will never be able to hold up our heads in Hadlea ever again.’

  ‘Why not?’ their father demanded. ‘You are to be married to Mark Wyndham and will be leaving home. Teddy has already left and no doubt Sophie will soon follow you to the altar, so it is easily put about that your mother and I and Jane do not need so large a house.’