Scandal at Greystone Manor

by Mary Nichols

  Sir Edward looked down at the two trunks which had been deposited in the hall. ‘As I recall,’ he said, ‘you only took one trunk with you. Am I to assume you have been shopping?’

  ‘Well, I could not go out and about town with Aunt Emmeline in the shabby gowns I had taken with me,’ Isabel said. ‘It was different for Jane, she was too busy with her orphans to worry about how she looked.’

  ‘And how did you pay for them?’

  ‘On your account, naturally. I only had pin money.’

  He sighed. ‘It is evidently useless to tell you to be frugal.’

  ‘A few gowns and fripperies, Papa, will surely not break the bank,’ she said.

  ‘You are impertinent, child. Now go and change before I lose my temper with you.’

  Isabel was smiling as she went upstairs with her sister. ‘Papa has never lost his temper with me,’ she said. ‘With Teddy, yes, but never with me.’

  ‘But you do try his patience sorely, Issie. He is looking very strained and I wonder how bad things really are.’

  ‘You do not think that odious man at Aunt Emmeline’s soirée was telling the truth, do you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  When she went to her room, Bessie had already unpacked her things and had gone to do the same for Isabel. Jane sat on the edge of her bed, wondering how much, if anything, she should tell her parents about the rumours and Lord Bolsover. It might only serve to upset them. On the other hand, forewarned was forearmed. She would leave the decision until the next day when everyone was less tired and they had settled in at home again.

  * * *

  Supper was a time for catching up, with Sophie telling her sisters what had been going on in the village in their absence, Isabel chattering about all she had seen and done, avoiding any mention of Andrew Ashton, and Jane apprising them of her visit to the Foundling Hospital and the progress she had made with her orphan project. ‘Mark was a great help,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, he told us about the Foundlings when he called to inform us of Isabel’s accident,’ her mother said. ‘How did that happen? Hacks in the Park are not usually fraught with danger.’

  ‘I ducked to avoid the overhanging branch of a tree,’ Isabel said. ‘And my saddle slipped and I came off and hit my head.’

  ‘I am surprised Mark did not check the girth before you started out,’ Sir Edward said.

  ‘I am sure he did, but it was a hired mount and a hired saddle, which no doubt did not fit properly.’

  ‘And I believe your aunt arranged a soirée for you, Jane. Did you meet any interesting people?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Emmeline’s drawing room was a squeeze. They knew that I would be speaking about the Hadlea Children’s Home. I was very nervous at first, but I soon forgot that as I talked.’

  ‘There were all manner of people there and some were very noisy,’ Isabel added. ‘There was one man who said—’

  ‘Isabel,’ Jane put in quickly, ‘Mama and Papa do not want to hear that.’

  ‘Hear what?’ her mother demanded.

  ‘It was only someone trying to cause trouble,’ Jane said. ‘Mark and Mr Ashton soon got rid of him.’

  ‘Trouble?’ Sir Edward queried. ‘What sort of trouble?’

  ‘He doubted my honesty. There are some people who think a woman not capable of handling money and Mark had to explain that the funds for the Hadlea Children’s Home would be administered by a trust of which he would be a trustee and that seemed to satisfy most people.’

  ‘That’s not all he said.’ Isabel ignored the fierce look Jane gave her. ‘He said you were nigh on bankrupt, Papa, and the money Jane collected for her orphanage would go to pay your debts.’

  ‘Issie!’ Jane admonished her, noting her father’s frown and the high spots of colour on his cheeks and her mother’s quick intake of breath. ‘There was no need to trouble Papa with that. It is of no consequence.’

  ‘It seems to me you have been mixing with a very bad sort of society,’ their mother said. ‘I am surprised at Emmeline allowing it.’

  ‘Do not blame Aunt Emmeline,’ Jane said. ‘She was very particular about those to whom she introduced us. The man arrived uninvited.’

  ‘I heard D—Mr Ashton—say he had been sent by Lord Bolsover,’ Isabel went on. ‘He’s the one Teddy owed all that money to. He is evidently angry that Teddy escaped.’

  ‘Well, I am very relieved that you are both home again and away from all that,’ their mother said. ‘Let us talk of other things. I have been several times over to Broadacres to visit Lady Wyndham. She is bearing up remarkably well and talking cheerfully of the wedding. Jane, you must finish the alterations to the gown now you are home.’

  ‘I will work on it tomorrow, Mama, when I have come back from visiting the Rector and Mrs Caulder. They will wish to know how well I did raising money.’

  * * *

  The sun was warm as Jane walked to the rectory next morning and she wore a simple gingham gown and a light lace shawl. The parasol she carried was a pale-cream silk with a matching fringe. In her reticule she had a record of all the people who had donated to the fund and the notes she had made after her visit to the Foundling Hospital.

  Mrs Caulder was in her garden cutting early rose buds from the bush that climbed the archway of the gate. ‘Jane, you are back. How did it go?’

  ‘Well, I think. I made some notes to show you and the Reverend.’

  ‘I believe he is in the church. I was going to take these roses for the altar. Let us go and find him. He has some news for you.’

  ‘News?’

  ‘Yes, I believe he has found suitable premises for the home.’

  ‘Oh, that is good news. I am hoping we can have everything in place and the first children installed before the winter weather.’

  The Rector was in the vestry, making entries into the register, but stopped when he saw Jane. ‘Allow me a minute or two to finish this,’ he said after greeting her. ‘Then we can go into the house and talk over tea and cakes.’

  While he was doing that Mrs Caulder arranged the roses in a vase and put them on the altar and Jane idled the time looking round the church. She knew every nook and cranny of it, having been a regular member of the congregation since she was in leading strings. When she was too young to take part in the service she had feasted her eyes on everything about her. She knew the inscriptions on the tablets on the walls and set into the floor, she was familiar with the lovely stained-glass window depicting Jesus surrounded by children, and the carving on the font. Wandering into the churchyard, she began reading the inscriptions on the gravestones. There was her grandfather and grandmother and their parents and several others with the name of Cavenhurst. And there were the Wyndhams, generations of them, and Stangates, Pages and Finches, and there, in a far corner on a moss-covered stone overgrown with grass and brambles and fenced off from the rest of the churchyard, was a name that stopped her short.

  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.

  She brushed the moss from the stone to make sure she had read it correctly and then went round all the graves looking for the names Bolsover and Paget. There were one or two Pagets on more recent graves and she knew there was a memorial on a wall inside the church, but no more Bolsovers. Was it significant? Had she been destined by fate to find that grave? She remembered Lord Bolsover saying he would have his revenge and later telling her she did not know him at all. Did he believe that one of her ancestors had wronged the man in the grave? But it was all so long ago.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Jane.’ The Rector’s hearty voice broke her reverie and she turned to see him and his wife approaching. ‘We wondered where you were.’

  ‘I was reading the inscriptions on the grav
es. Some of them are very moving, especially the children’s. And this one, almost hidden.’

  ‘Ah, yes, a suicide which is why it is outside the consecrated ground.’

  ‘Do you know the history behind it?’

  ‘No, I do not. There might be something in the parish records. Let us go indoors and you shall tell me your news and I will tell you mine.’

  Jane followed her friends into the rectory and over tea and Mrs Caulder’s honey cakes, she put the mystery of Bolsover to the back of her mind while she told them of everything she had done in London to promote the Hadlea Children’s Home, although she did not mention the accusations made at her aunt’s soirée. ‘When I returned home, I found several letters and small donations as a result of my letter-writing,’ she said. ‘I am optimistic we can go ahead.’

  ‘You have done well,’ he said. ‘And I have some news, too. I think I have found a suitable house. It is in Witherington and has been empty for some time since its last occupant died. He was an old man, living alone with only one manservant and a housekeeper. When he died, his heirs were difficult to find and the house was left to the ravages of nature. The heirs have recently come forward and put it on the market. It is large, dilapidated and cheap.’

  Witherington was a small hamlet about five miles from Hadlea. It was too small to have its own church and was incorporated in the parish of Hadlea. ‘I must go and see it as soon as possible. I will ask Lord Wyndham if he will accompany me, since he is one of the trustees and must approve our choice.’

  She said goodbye and left them. She was already over halfway between the Manor and Broadacres, so decided she might as well go the rest of the way and speak to Mark.

  * * *

  She found him in the stables, arranging for the last quartet of post horses to be returned and the carriage cleaned. He was in riding breeches and shirt, which showed off his lithe figure and did strange things to her heart and belly. He turned to her with a ready smile. ‘Good morning, Jane,’ he said, reaching for his coat which hung on a hook by the door. ‘Are you recovered from your journey?’

  ‘Oh, it was nothing. I am quite well and a night in my own bed has worked wonders, also the news that the Reverend Caulder has found some premises for our home. I have just come from the Rectory and decided to call to ask if you could spare the time to accompany me on an inspection. The trustees will need to make the final decision as to whether we buy or not.’

  ‘Willingly. Let us go indoors and we can decide on a day and time. I must fit it in with my obligations here and my duty to my mother.’

  ‘If you are very busy...’ she began diffidently.

  He smiled at her, a special kind of smile she liked to imagine was one for her alone, but which she knew was fantasy on her part. ‘Jane, when I took on the trusteeship, I knew what it would entail and I always make a point of fulfilling my obligations, so think no more of it. We will go as soon as maybe. Perhaps Isabel might like to accompany us?’

  They did not have to wait to ask her. Lady Cavenhurst and Isabel were sitting in the morning room with Lady Wyndham. The two older ladies were in animated conversation about plans for the wedding, but Isabel was silent and looking glum, which worried Jane. How long before she got over her infatuation for Andrew Ashton? If she went on looking gloomy for much longer, everyone would notice. But she could not altogether condemn her; she knew what it was like to yearn for someone you could not have.

  ‘I did not know you were coming here, Jane,’ her mother said. ‘You could have driven the trap, you know how I hate driving it. I am always fearful it will turn over and land us all in a ditch. And your papa positively forbade us to have the horses harnessed to the carriage for so short a trip.’

  ‘I went to the rectory, Mama, and decided to come on here afterwards. Reverend Caulder has found a house for the Hadlea Children’s Home and I needed to consult Mark about it.’

  ‘Jane dear,’ her mother said gently, ‘I do think you should refer to his lordship in a more respectful way. You are no longer children.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Mark put in. ‘I should hate that. It means I must call Jane Miss Cavenhurst and Isabel, Miss Isabel. It would be too stiff for words. Let us go on as we always have.’

  ‘Honestly, Jane,’ Isabel said, ‘do you never think of anything else but that project of yours? I am sure Mark is bored to death with it. I certainly am.’

  ‘I am sorry you think that,’ Jane said. ‘I was going to ask if you would like to come with us to view the house. It is at Witherington.’

  ‘No, I should not. I have better things to do with my time. I am sure you do not need a chaperon, being too old for courtship, as everyone knows.’

  ‘Dear me,’ Lady Wyndham said. ‘I fear, Isabel, you are becoming a little nervous. It must be the wedding playing on your mind.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps it is,’ she said and lapsed into silence.

  Nothing more was said for several seconds while the heated air cooled and then Lady Cavenhurst rose, followed by her daughters.

  ‘I will call at the Manor later,’ Mark said, obviously meaning when Isabel had regained her composure. ‘We can arrange the outing to Witherington then.’

  Jane followed her mother and sister to the trap, feeling nothing but foreboding. If Isabel continued to be difficult, she feared for Mark’s happiness. A calamity was unfolding before her and she could do nothing but watch helplessly.

  * * *

  ‘Isabel, what is the matter with you?’ Lady Cavenhurst asked when they arrived home and her younger daughter had said not a word on the short drive. ‘What has put you in the dismals?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she muttered, looking at the hall floor.

  ‘Come now, I do not believe that. You have been in the suds ever since you returned home. I begin to think you are not glad to be back and would rather have stayed with your aunt.’

  Isabel raised eyes swimming with tears. ‘It isn’t that.’

  Jane put her arm about her shoulder. ‘Issie, you had better tell Mama the whole.’

  ‘If there is something to tell, then we will go into the parlour and sit comfortably,’ their mother said, leading the way.

  Isabel shot a glance at her sister. ‘Come, too, Jane.’

  Lady Cavenhurst sat on a sofa and patted the seat beside her. ‘Sit here, Isabel, and let us hear what is making you so unhappy.’

  Isabel hesitated. ‘Go on,’ Jane said.

  Her sister took a deep breath. ‘I can’t marry Mark, Mama.’

  ‘Can’t marry him? Why ever not?’

  ‘I do not love him and I cannot see myself as mistress of Broadacres.’

  ‘Nonsense! Whatever has put that idea into your head? You have been destined to marry Mark ever since you were children. You could not wait to be grown up enough to wed him.’

  ‘I know, but I was young and silly.’

  Her mother gave her a ghost of a smile. ‘You mean you are no longer young and silly? You have grown old and wise in the space of two weeks? I begin to wish I had not suggested you should go to London with Jane. Your head has been turned by the haut monde.’

  ‘It is nothing to do with London or the haut monde. I felt like that before I went. Jane will tell you that.’

  Lady Cavenhurst looked at her eldest daughter. ‘Jane?’

  ‘Issie intimated she was nervous of becoming Lady Wyndham and having to run Broadacres, Mama. She did not tell me she did not love Mark.’

  ‘It is only nerves,’ her ladyship said. ‘You will overcome them.’

  ‘It is not nerves, Mama. If I am made to marry Mark, I shall be miserable and so will he.’

  ‘Well, it is too late to back out now. You have been engaged for over a year and it is a solemn undertaking. You will lay yourself open to breach of promise.’

  ‘Mark would never do that,’
Jane put in.

  ‘No, perhaps not, but it would be a terrible blow, not only to him but to his mother, who is not strong enough to withstand it, not after losing her husband so suddenly. It is only the thought of the wedding that keeps her going. She told me that herself. It is why she shortened the mourning period.’

  ‘Mama, I can’t go through with it, I simply cannot,’ Isabel wailed, tears spilling.

  ‘You will think differently when the time comes. Mark is not a monster. You could not wish for a gentler, more considerate husband. It is more important than being in love. There are any number of successful marriages that did not start out with being in love. That will come later.’

  ‘It won’t.’ Isabel was sobbing now. Jane moved over to sit beside her and put her arm about her, but she had nothing to add to what her mother had said and reiterating it would be hypocritical.

  ‘Go up to your room and wash your face,’ Lady Cavenhurst said, decidedly cross. ‘I am going to find your father. He will have to know, though he has more than enough problems without you adding to them.’ She stood up. ‘Jane, see if you can make her see sense—perhaps she will listen to you.’

  Jane helped her sister to her room where she sat on the bed, not weeping now, but white-faced and red-eyed. Jane poured some water from the jug on the washstand into a bowl and dipped a cloth into it. She wrung it out and gave it to Isabel. ‘Wipe your face, Issie. Crying so much will spoil your looks.’

  ‘I don’t care. Perhaps that will turn Mark against me.’

  ‘One thing you can be sure of is that Mark will never break the engagement, whatever you do. He is too honourable and the scandal would ruin both families.’

  ‘You do not understand.’

  ‘I assure you I do and I feel for you. In time, you will get over your infatuation for Mr Ashton and wonder what you ever saw in him.’ She paused, wondering whether to go on. ‘I did.’

  ‘You?’ Isabel was so surprised she left off crying.