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Authors: Suzanne Downes
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take the slightly less lofty position of Rural Dean, so that he could continue with the “hands-on” work with his parishioners which meant so much to him. Not that this had prevented Underwood from ceaselessly teasing his younger brother about his new job!
“The first would be that if the real Lydia had disapproved of the scheming and had refused to help her father claim the inheritance – if indeed he is still alive, which we don’t know either! Lydia could, indeed, be telling the whole, unvarnished truth.”
Cara lifted a quizzical brow, “I can’t imagine why she should do so with a fortune at stake, but go on, what other reason might there be?”
“Sadly if the real Lydia had died – but if that were the case, why should Mr Woodforde not find some poor, but perfectly respectable woman to take the part of Lydia?”
Lady Hartley-Wells intervened gruffly, “I knew Silas Woodforde and I have to tell you Verity, that the man was thoroughly unpleasant. He would probably think it a grand joke to inflict some horrid woman upon us and watch from a distance as we all struggle to cope with her vulgarity.”
“Oh,” said Verity, deflated, “But I still think we should wait until we have met her before we make our judgements.”
“Very sensible advice. I suggest we hold off making any plans or arrangements of any sort until we’ve seen the girl for ourselves. I will hold the first party at my house when I will introduce her to anyone who cares to come – I can assure you I shall have no compunction about giving her the cut direct if I need to. Embarrassment doesn’t bother a woman of my age, I’ve seen and lived through it all and survived!”
Verity noticed that poor Mrs Woodforde had remained staunchly silent, but on the brink of tears, throughout this exchange and her heart went out to the woman. She was obviously very distressed by the whole affair and Verity was determined to do her best to be especially nice to Lydia in the hope that she was Mrs Woodforde’s prodigal daughter and that the two ladies would repair and renew their relationship and live happily together in spite of all the bitter years that had gone before.
Cara and Ellen caught the heartfelt and compassionate glance Verity threw in the direction of the older lady and with a slight lift of the brow from Ellen and a moue of the mouth from Cara, they silently resolved to make sure their friend and sister did not make a fool of herself or get terribly hurt by the complicated and possibly dangerous affair.
*
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Arte Perire Sua” – To perish by one’s own mistakes
After a late lunch Underwood found himself with nothing to fill the hours until Miss Fettiplace should escape from her employer at four, as she had promised, so he decided to take a walk around the town.
This decision was not made entirely from boredom, but to check whether the man who had seated himself in the coffee room shortly after Underwood’s return from Pershore House was in fact following him, as Underwood strongly suspected.
There was nothing overtly disreputable or sinister about the fellow, but the fact that he pretended to read a very old copy of the Gentleman’s Magazine which was upside down for several minutes before he realised it by coming across an illustration, was a good indication that he was not in the Black Bear for purposes of relaxation.
If the man was a spy, he was a singularly poor one, but Underwood had to be sure if he was to have a private conversation with Miss Fettiplace – and it would also confirm his suspicion that there was something very dark happening around Miss Petch.
When he paused to look into an apothecary shop window, supposedly admiring the various bottles and jars which adorned the shelves, the reflection of his follower hovered over his shoulder, and Underwood took the time to commit his face to memory, as he had not had the opportunity to do so in the inn without making it obvious he had
“The first would be that if the real Lydia had disapproved of the scheming and had refused to help her father claim the inheritance – if indeed he is still alive, which we don’t know either! Lydia could, indeed, be telling the whole, unvarnished truth.”
Cara lifted a quizzical brow, “I can’t imagine why she should do so with a fortune at stake, but go on, what other reason might there be?”
“Sadly if the real Lydia had died – but if that were the case, why should Mr Woodforde not find some poor, but perfectly respectable woman to take the part of Lydia?”
Lady Hartley-Wells intervened gruffly, “I knew Silas Woodforde and I have to tell you Verity, that the man was thoroughly unpleasant. He would probably think it a grand joke to inflict some horrid woman upon us and watch from a distance as we all struggle to cope with her vulgarity.”
“Oh,” said Verity, deflated, “But I still think we should wait until we have met her before we make our judgements.”
“Very sensible advice. I suggest we hold off making any plans or arrangements of any sort until we’ve seen the girl for ourselves. I will hold the first party at my house when I will introduce her to anyone who cares to come – I can assure you I shall have no compunction about giving her the cut direct if I need to. Embarrassment doesn’t bother a woman of my age, I’ve seen and lived through it all and survived!”
Verity noticed that poor Mrs Woodforde had remained staunchly silent, but on the brink of tears, throughout this exchange and her heart went out to the woman. She was obviously very distressed by the whole affair and Verity was determined to do her best to be especially nice to Lydia in the hope that she was Mrs Woodforde’s prodigal daughter and that the two ladies would repair and renew their relationship and live happily together in spite of all the bitter years that had gone before.
Cara and Ellen caught the heartfelt and compassionate glance Verity threw in the direction of the older lady and with a slight lift of the brow from Ellen and a moue of the mouth from Cara, they silently resolved to make sure their friend and sister did not make a fool of herself or get terribly hurt by the complicated and possibly dangerous affair.
*
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Arte Perire Sua” – To perish by one’s own mistakes
After a late lunch Underwood found himself with nothing to fill the hours until Miss Fettiplace should escape from her employer at four, as she had promised, so he decided to take a walk around the town.
This decision was not made entirely from boredom, but to check whether the man who had seated himself in the coffee room shortly after Underwood’s return from Pershore House was in fact following him, as Underwood strongly suspected.
There was nothing overtly disreputable or sinister about the fellow, but the fact that he pretended to read a very old copy of the Gentleman’s Magazine which was upside down for several minutes before he realised it by coming across an illustration, was a good indication that he was not in the Black Bear for purposes of relaxation.
If the man was a spy, he was a singularly poor one, but Underwood had to be sure if he was to have a private conversation with Miss Fettiplace – and it would also confirm his suspicion that there was something very dark happening around Miss Petch.
When he paused to look into an apothecary shop window, supposedly admiring the various bottles and jars which adorned the shelves, the reflection of his follower hovered over his shoulder, and Underwood took the time to commit his face to memory, as he had not had the opportunity to do so in the inn without making it obvious he had
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