Scandal At Greystone Manor. Mary Nichols

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      ‘He doesn’t change, does he?’ Isabel said.

      ‘No, unfortunately. I fear we are in for an uncomfortable dinner time.’

      * * *

      In that she was right. Even though Teddy had changed into a dark grey coat and a white cravat and waistcoat, he had evidently not been successful with their father. He was resentful, Sir Edward was angry and Lady Cavenhurst upset. Jane and Isabel tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere by talking about the wedding and the doings in the village and were only partly successful, not helped by Sophie demanding to know what was the matter with everyone, why the gloomy faces. ‘Anyone would think there had been a death in the family,’ she said.

      ‘Death of me,’ Teddy said morosely, which made his father snort derisively and his mother draw in her breath in distress. But no one commented and they continued to eat their roast beef in a silence broken only when someone asked politely for the sauce boat or the salt cellar.

      * * *

      After the meal ended, the ladies repaired to the withdrawing room, where a maid brought in the tea tray. ‘Is Papa very angry with Teddy?’ Jane asked their mother as they arranged themselves on sofas.

      ‘He is more disappointed than angry,’ her ladyship said. She was still a handsome woman, with an upright figure which belied her forty-nine years. ‘Teddy promised him he would limit his extravagance, but it seems not to have happened. But we will not talk of it. No doubt it will be resolved somehow.’ It was typical of their mother to shut her eyes to problems in the firm belief someone else would solve them.

      They had not been seated many minutes when Sir Edward and Teddy joined them, but Teddy soon made his excuses to leave. Jane rose and followed him. ‘Teddy,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘Are matters very ill with you?’

      ‘Couldn’t be worse. And the old man refuses to stand buff.’

      ‘Oh, dear, what will you do?’ They strolled into the book room where there was a comfortable sofa and sat down side by side.

      ‘I don’t know what to do. You can’t help me out, can you, Sis?’

      ‘How much do you owe?’

      ‘Well...’ He seemed reluctant to go on. ‘It’s mostly gaming debts and they simply have to be paid.’

      ‘Go on, how much?’

      ‘Five thousand or thereabouts.’

      ‘Five thousand! Oh, Teddy, how did that come about?’

      ‘You know how it is—you win some and you lose some and I kept thinking I would recoup. Luck was against me.’

      ‘Who do you owe the money to?’

      ‘Lord Bolsover holds the biggest of my gambling debts, about three thousand. He’s the one making the most noise about it. There are a couple of others. Gieves and Hoby and the vintner can wait.’

      ‘Wait for what? Until you have another winning streak? And I would have thought it was more important to pay your tailor and bootmaker who have a living to make. Gaming debts are not enforceable by law. You should know that, working in a law firm as you do.’

      ‘All the more reason to pay them. It is a question of honour.’

      ‘Honour! Teddy, if you had any honour you would heed poor Papa, who has always done his best for you. He is not made of money, you know.’

      ‘So he told me.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘He suggests I find myself a rich wife, preferably a widow, old enough and independent enough to curb my excesses.’

      Jane could not help laughing and was relieved to see a slight twitch of her brother’s lips in response. ‘He only said that because he was cross with you.’

      ‘He was in earnest, Jane.’

      ‘You do not like the idea?’

      ‘Oh, I like it well enough, always supposing the wealth came with a pretty face and figure. But where am I going to find such a one who’ll have me? Even if I did, it would take time and I haven’t got the time. Hector Bolsover wants his blunt.’

      ‘Oh, Teddy, what a mess you are in.’

      ‘I know. Can you help me out?’

      ‘Where do you think I can find so much money?’

      ‘You still have the bequest Aunt Matilda left you, haven’t you?’

      ‘That is meant to be my dowry.’

      ‘But, Jane, you are never going to marry, are you?’

      Only a brother would be so blunt. It hurt, but she didn’t show it. ‘Maybe not, but I have other plans for my inheritance.’

      ‘More important than rescuing your only brother from the River Tick?’

      She sighed heavily. She had a dream of opening an orphanage for some of the children of men lost in the recent war. The idea had come about when she had been in London the year before. She had seen some ragged, barefoot children running about the streets begging and when she spoke to one of them, to the dismay of her mother who had accompanied her, she was told a tale which made her heart bleed for him. His father had been killed in a battle in far-off Portugal, his mother had been forced into service where children were not welcome and because she was obliged to live in, she had to give up the tenancy of their two tiny rooms. He slept in doorways or under the trees in the park. ‘I do well enough,’ he told her, holding out his hand for money.

      How many more were there like that? she had asked herself, how many children were there without homes, without adequate clothing and enough to eat? ‘Surely the government should do something about them,’ she had said to her mother, as they left the child clutching a sixpence. ‘Their fathers fought for king and country and that is how they are rewarded. It’s a disgrace.’

      ‘I do not see what we can do about it.’

      ‘We can speak to Sir Mortimer for a start.’ Sir Mortimer Belton was their local Member of Parliament. ‘If the problem is put to him, he might bring it up in Parliament. We could make a fuss, bring it to the public’s attention. Raise a subscription to provide the children with homes.’

      ‘Oh, dear,’ her mother had said. ‘That sounds like a crusade.’

      And a crusade it had become, but trying to make the government move was like tickling a tortoise. Jane had decided that she must set an example—not on a grand scale, she could not afford that, but she could do something locally. A small boarding school for about a dozen orphans of soldiers in their own vicinity was what she had in mind. It might encourage others to do the same in their own localities. The five thousand pounds she had would not be enough and she had enlisted the help of the Rector, the Reverend Mr Henry Caulder and his wife, to raise funds. They had decided that the best way to do it was to find philanthropic sponsors. To encourage them, she would put her own money into the venture, she had told them. If she gave her inheritance to Teddy, it would put an end to her plans before they had even begun to take shape.

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