LITMIR.BIZ

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voice softened, but was no less menacing. ‘Then remember not to behave as if I were an uninvited guest you cannot wait to get rid of. It is you who are the guests, you and your daughters, and that one…’ He nodded towards Miss Quinn hovering in the doorway. To the children he said, ‘Would you like to sit with us and have some apple pie?’

      Both girls, too frightened to speak, shook their heads. He beckoned to Miss Quinn. ‘Take them away, they are not as amusing as I thought they might be.’

      Quinn disappeared with her charges and a few moments later Charlotte made her excuses and left the men to their port and cigars and went up to her room to sit in a chair by the window, gazing out with unseeing eyes. Her head was reeling. How could she endure living under the same roof as her brother-in-law, she asked herself, supposing he did not decide to throw her out? Even so soon after meeting him, she knew him to be self-serving and pitiless. And she did not like the manner of his two companions who ogled her, almost undressing her with their eyes. And the way they had looked at Lizzie and Fanny made her shudder with apprehension. She would have to watch them and, if they stayed beyond a week or two, she would have to think of moving out—not only moving out, but finding an occupation.

      It was at such a time she missed not having a husband. She had loved Grenville dearly and mourned him for a long time and because she lived comfortably under his father’s roof, loved and cared for, she had never given a thought to marrying again. ‘I am content as I am,’ she had told Quinny. But now, now where was contentment? Where was security? Where, oh, where was love? Why did she suddenly feel so bereft, so lonely and not a little frightened? That was silly, she told herself, she feared no one. But how long dare she remain under her brother-in-law’s roof while she found a way of earning a living that would have to include a roof over her head, not only for herself but her children?

      Something must be done and done quickly. She sat at her little escritoire and took from it a small velvet bag. It contained a few guineas—not enough to keep the four of them for more than a day or two, for she must include Miss Quinn, certainly not enough to pay coach fares and at least two nights’ accommodation for them to go to her great-uncle. She could write and ask him to send the fare, but her stubborn pride would not let her do it. He might refuse to have anything to do with her and that would be too humiliating to be borne.

      Besides, she had made her home here, at Parson’s End. She had grown to love the area, the cliffs, and the sea in all its moods, calm as a pond one day, raging and pounding over the shore almost to the base of the cliffs the next. She loved the pine woods carpeted with needles that crunched under your feet as you walked, and she liked the people, farming people and fishing folk, hardworking, dour and courageous. And as for their children, they were what made her life worthwhile, watching them grow, being able to help them to better themselves with a little education. It was an ongoing, self-imposed task and she did not want it to end, which it surely must if she did not have the means to continue it.

      She remembered the stranger on the cliff with a wry smile. He had taken her for a schoolteacher and she remembered thinking that was what it might come to. A school was the answer, one that took boarders, young ladies from wealthy homes whose parents were prepared to pay to have their daughters educated and given some polish before being brought out. If she did that, the village children could still have their school. The wealthy could subsidise the poor. But did she have the right qualifications to attract the wealthy? She would need teachers beside herself and premises and connections. She weighed the coins in her hand and laughed at her foolishness.

      She went up to say goodnight to the girls and quietly told Miss Quinn to make sure their doors were locked, though the poor lady did not need to be told; she was already in fear of her life. ‘Tomorrow we will make plans,’ Charlotte told her before returning to her own room and making sure that that door was locked.

      She could hear the three men downstairs, laughing drunkenly. They had called for wine and a new pack of cards which was evidence enough that Cecil had not changed his gambling ways. She did not sleep until long after she heard them stumbling up to bed in the early hours and the house had gone quiet.

      

      The next morning, she and the children slipped out of the side door to go to the village. She noticed a carriage arriving at the front as she passed the corner of the house, but, guessing it was John Hardacre, the family lawyer, she decided not to stay to receive him. Foster would alert the still-slumbering Cecil that he had arrived.

      They crossed the stable yard to a path that led into the kitchen garden and from there through a side gate of the estate wall on to the road into the village. The damp hedgerows dripped onto the newly thrusting primroses at their base and the burgeoning trees in the meadows on either side moved softly in the breeze and sheltered the new lambs. It should have been a joyful time, this time of new life, but for once it did not raise her spirits. She had too much on her mind.

      ‘My lady,’ the Reverend greeted her. ‘I did not expect you so early, you do not usually come until after noon.’

      ‘No, but I need to speak to you, Reverend.’

      ‘Then come into the church, I was on my way there.’

      She sent the children to the classroom and followed him into the church. ‘Reverend, I hardly know how to begin,’ she said, after they had genuflected to the altar and seated themselves in one of the pews. There was a chill in there that matched the chill in her heart. ‘My life has taken a dramatic turn…’

      ‘I had heard the new Lord Hobart had arrived.’

      ‘My goodness, news travels fast. Yes, he came yesterday morning and he is not prepared to go on as his father did and that means—’

      ‘You will no longer be able to teach, is that it? We shall all be very sorry.’

      ‘No, Reverend, it means that I must teach. And I must be paid for doing it.’

      ‘You know the village children cannot pay.’

      ‘Yes, I know that. But I must find pupils that can. And premises. The village children could be included later, when everything is up and running—’ She stopped, daunted by the task ahead of her.

      ‘I see.’

      She knew he did see and was glad that she did not have to explain. ‘What I need to ask you is whether you know where I might find a house…?’

      ‘For a school?’

      ‘Yes, but also living quarters for me and my children and their governess.’

      ‘You surely have not been asked to leave Easterley Manor?’

      ‘No, but I do not wish to stay. Lord Hobart is a bachelor. It would not be fitting.’

      ‘No, I see it would not. But what about the uncle you spoke of? Would he not give you a home?’

      ‘I do not know. I have never even met him and how do I know I won’t be jumping from the frying pan into the fire? Besides, I love living at Parson’s End, my children were born here and they love it too. I do not want to leave the area.’

      ‘Then, my lady, you really do have a dilemma.’ He smiled suddenly and patted her hand. ‘You are welcome to stay at the Rectory until you have found somewhere. I am sure Mrs Fuller will raise no objections. But as for premises, we will have to put our thinking caps on because I do not want to lose you from the district and I am sure I am not alone in that sentiment.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

      He rose and she knelt for his blessing. As they left the church she could hear the children arriving for their afternoon lessons. ‘Will you take your class today?’ he asked her.

      ‘Yes, of course. The children expect it and I want everything as normal as possible for Lizzie and Fanny.’

      ‘Then while you are with your pupils, I shall go up to the hall and pay my respects to his lordship.’

      Charlotte managed a smile as she passed him to go into the schoolroom, wondering, as

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