Read Online An Unusual Bequest by Mary Nichols - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mary Nichols
Ads: Link
introduction. Was it too late to retrieve the situation? And why did he want to? He could ask others his questions, as she had suggested; she had already given him an idea of what questions to ask. So why did he feel as if he could not let her go?
He watched the crocodile out of sight, but instead of going back to the blacksmith’s, he followed, keeping far enough back not to be seen, laughing at himself for his folly while he did it.
They stopped at several of the cottages and he was obliged to conceal himself behind trees while she saw her pupils safely indoors, one by one, until there was only her own two daughters with her. Then she walked more briskly until she turned into the gates of Easterley Manor. He did not venture there, but stood thoughtfully tapping his boot with the riding crop he had been carrying when he spoke to her, then turned on his heel and went back to the village.
As she turned the bend in the drive, Charlotte saw Mr Hardacre’s carriage coming towards her on its way out. She had missed him and it was all the fault of that supercilious stranger for delaying her. She stood to one side as it went to pass her, lifting her hand towards the occupant. He was looking grim and for a moment she did not think he would even acknowledge her. The interview with his client had evidently not gone well. She went to move on, when she realised the carriage was drawing to a stop. Turning, she retraced her steps as his head poked out of the door. He had removed his hat, revealing a shock of white hair. ‘Lady Hobart, good day to you. Miss Elizabeth, Miss Frances, how you do grow!’
They each gave a little curtsy and stood waiting while their mother went to speak to him.
‘Mr Hardacre, I am glad you stopped. I would be glad of your advice.’
‘Anything I can do for you, I will, my lady. Do you wish me to return to the house?’
She smiled, realising he was reluctant to do so. ‘No, there is no need for his lordship to know I have consulted you.’
‘Oh.’ He paused. ‘But you know Lord Hobart is my client, I can do nothing against his interests.’
‘I am aware of that. It is not about Lord Hobart. At least, only in as much as his arrival has presented me with a problem.’ She spoke warily, wondering how much he knew or could guess. ‘But I am afraid I cannot come to London to consult you.’
‘I see. Then I shall put up at the Dog and Fox for the night and return tomorrow.’
‘I would rather you did not come back here. Could we meet in the church? It is a public place, but quiet in the middle of the week.’
‘Very well. At ten o’clock, if that is convenient.’
It was like a secret assignation and they both smiled at the idea. He was elderly and had served the Hobart family for several decades and his father before him; she was a relatively young widow and still very handsome. ‘Ten o’clock will suit me very well.’ She stood back as he rapped on the roof to tell his driver to proceed, and the coach rolled away.
She took the girls back to the house, entering by the side door. She had no wish to draw attention to her return by using the front entrance. But her precaution was in vain—Cecil saw her coming along one of the back corridors to the stairs. It was three o’clock in the afternoon and he was still dressed in a stained dressing gown.
‘What have you been up to, my lady?’ he enquired. ‘Creeping about like a thief in the night.’
‘I am not creeping about and it is not night,’ she retorted, thrusting her chin upwards. ‘It is the middle of the afternoon and I am returning from my duties in the village and going up to my room.’ She gave the girls a little push. ‘Upstairs with you. Go and find Miss Quinn.’
He watched them go and then turned back to her, leering at her so that the scar on his cheek deepened. She wondered idly how he had come by it. ‘Duties in the village,’ he queried. ‘What might they be?’
‘I teach a few of the
He watched the crocodile out of sight, but instead of going back to the blacksmith’s, he followed, keeping far enough back not to be seen, laughing at himself for his folly while he did it.
They stopped at several of the cottages and he was obliged to conceal himself behind trees while she saw her pupils safely indoors, one by one, until there was only her own two daughters with her. Then she walked more briskly until she turned into the gates of Easterley Manor. He did not venture there, but stood thoughtfully tapping his boot with the riding crop he had been carrying when he spoke to her, then turned on his heel and went back to the village.
As she turned the bend in the drive, Charlotte saw Mr Hardacre’s carriage coming towards her on its way out. She had missed him and it was all the fault of that supercilious stranger for delaying her. She stood to one side as it went to pass her, lifting her hand towards the occupant. He was looking grim and for a moment she did not think he would even acknowledge her. The interview with his client had evidently not gone well. She went to move on, when she realised the carriage was drawing to a stop. Turning, she retraced her steps as his head poked out of the door. He had removed his hat, revealing a shock of white hair. ‘Lady Hobart, good day to you. Miss Elizabeth, Miss Frances, how you do grow!’
They each gave a little curtsy and stood waiting while their mother went to speak to him.
‘Mr Hardacre, I am glad you stopped. I would be glad of your advice.’
‘Anything I can do for you, I will, my lady. Do you wish me to return to the house?’
She smiled, realising he was reluctant to do so. ‘No, there is no need for his lordship to know I have consulted you.’
‘Oh.’ He paused. ‘But you know Lord Hobart is my client, I can do nothing against his interests.’
‘I am aware of that. It is not about Lord Hobart. At least, only in as much as his arrival has presented me with a problem.’ She spoke warily, wondering how much he knew or could guess. ‘But I am afraid I cannot come to London to consult you.’
‘I see. Then I shall put up at the Dog and Fox for the night and return tomorrow.’
‘I would rather you did not come back here. Could we meet in the church? It is a public place, but quiet in the middle of the week.’
‘Very well. At ten o’clock, if that is convenient.’
It was like a secret assignation and they both smiled at the idea. He was elderly and had served the Hobart family for several decades and his father before him; she was a relatively young widow and still very handsome. ‘Ten o’clock will suit me very well.’ She stood back as he rapped on the roof to tell his driver to proceed, and the coach rolled away.
She took the girls back to the house, entering by the side door. She had no wish to draw attention to her return by using the front entrance. But her precaution was in vain—Cecil saw her coming along one of the back corridors to the stairs. It was three o’clock in the afternoon and he was still dressed in a stained dressing gown.
‘What have you been up to, my lady?’ he enquired. ‘Creeping about like a thief in the night.’
‘I am not creeping about and it is not night,’ she retorted, thrusting her chin upwards. ‘It is the middle of the afternoon and I am returning from my duties in the village and going up to my room.’ She gave the girls a little push. ‘Upstairs with you. Go and find Miss Quinn.’
He watched them go and then turned back to her, leering at her so that the scar on his cheek deepened. She wondered idly how he had come by it. ‘Duties in the village,’ he queried. ‘What might they be?’
‘I teach a few of the
Similar Books
