‘Unless you can raise a great deal of money, I’m afraid the house and the business will have to be sold,’ he told her gently.
Again, she shook her head. ‘No!I shall ask my brother for help rather than that if it’s the only way.’
His eyes were sad as he told her, ‘But we are talking about many thousands of pounds. Do you think Bernard could help that much?’
‘I don’t know.’ She sat down heavily on the nearest chair as Hetty wheeled the tea trolley into the room and for a while they were silent as the maid strained the tea into delicate china cups and saucers.
It was only when Hetty had gone that Dorcas croaked, ‘How much exactly do I need to get us out of trouble?’
He placed a piece of paper with an amount written on it in front of her and as she stared down at it her face turned ashen.
‘Dear God .?.?. That much?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ He sipped at his tea as she sat staring sightlessly out of the window. Once he had finished he stood and bowed. ‘I shall leave you now, but as soon as you have spoken with your brother and decided what you wish to do, come and see me. And remember, Dorcas, I shall do all I possibly can to help.’
‘Er .?.?. yes, yes .?.?. thank you.’
She was vaguely aware of him leaving the room and of the sound of his carriage pulling away down the drive just as Abigail burst through the door with Emmy trailing behind, somewhat more tentatively.
‘So, will you tell us what’s wrongnow, Mama?’ Abigail asked peevishly. ‘You’ve hardly spoken to us all day and we want to know what’s going on. And where is Papa? He’s usually home from work by now.’
Pulling herself together with an enormous effort, Dorcas rose and headed for the door. ‘I have to go and see your Uncle Bernard but I shall speak to you when I get back,’ she told the girls quietly.
As the door closed behind her mother, Abigail stamped her foot. ‘I might as well still be at school for all the notice Mama has taken of me today,’ she said with a pout, and throwing herself on to a sofa, she went into a sulk, while Emmy gazed worriedly towards the window.
Something was terribly wrong, she could feel it, but until her mother chose to tell them what it was, they would have to try and be patient.
Chapter Three
As the carriage turned into the long drive that led to Crossroads Farm, not far from her own home in Astley, Dorcas clenched her teeth. Her family had lived there for three generations and following the death of her father the farm had passed to her brother, Bernard. Dorcas had always considered it unfair. Admittedly Bernard was her senior by five years, but after the death of their mother when she was still in her teens, Dorcas had taken over the role of lady of the house. Because of this she’d felt that when her father died, the farm should have been left to them jointly, but because Bernard was male and the oldest child, he had inherited everything.
From that moment on they had never seen eye to eye and a year later when he married Sybil quite suddenly things had gone from bad to worse and it had become all too apparent that there was no room for two mistresses at Crossroads, so soon after, she had married Gerald. Back then, he had been working hard to build his business and had been handsome and kind. She had never considered that he was her equal but at the time she had thought anything was better than having to spend another day in what Bernard considered was very muchhishome. Admittedly her father had included a clause in his will stating that Dorcas should have a home there for as long as she wished, but once Bernard became the master it had become unbearable.
In truth, her marriage to Gerald had turned out far better than she had hoped. He was clearly besotted with her and had worked tirelessly to meet her many demands, until now that was. For the first time she wondered if she had been wrong to deny him her bed after the birth of Abi. She knew how much she had hurt him but even so, to go off and leave them all like that .?.?. As the carriage rattled down the drive, she blinked back tears of humiliation. To think that it had come to this and she was having to go cap in hand to her brother .?.?. But what alternative did she have? She ground her teeth as rage spread through her like iced water. It would be God help Gerald when he chose to put in an appearance again, but for now she would have to swallow her pride and throw herself on Bernard’s mercy. No doubt he would gloat. He had always told her that she had married beneath herself but she was sure he wouldn’t allow her to become a laughing stock. As the large farmhouse came into view, she frowned. Over the years Bernard had extended it and now it looked more like a mini mansion than a farm.
Unlike her father, who had never been afraid to turn his hand to anything, Bernard was a gentleman farmer who oversaw the work on his land rather than get his own hands dirty. He had an under-manager who handled some of the running of his estate so it was no wonder that at forty-five years of age Bernard had developed a paunch and looked years older than he was.But I mustn’t think of that now, she told herself as she dabbed at her eyes and sat upright.I must try to be reasonable.
The instant the groom drew the horses to a halt he jumped down and helped her from the carriage. Without a word of thanks, Dorcas climbed the steps to the stout oak door and yanked the bell pull to one side. The door was opened almost immediately by a young maid in a starched white apron and mop cap, and without waiting to be invited, Dorcas sailed past her and told her imperiously, ‘Inform my brother that I am here to see him.’
‘I’m afraid the family are having dinner, ma’am,’ the girl told her nervously.
Dorcas glared at her as she drew off her gloves and without another word the girl scuttled off only to return a moment later to tell her, ‘The master says you’re to wait in the drawing room, ma’am.’
Gritting her teeth, Dorcas followed the girl and once in the drawing room she glanced around. The room was expensively if somewhat plainly furnished; Sybil had never been one for frills and furbelows, but the quality of every piece jumped out at her. The mahogany sideboard that stood against one wall was so highly polished that she could see her face in it and comfortable leather wing chairs stood either side of a roaring fire. The carpets were fringed and colourful but apart from the cut-glass decanters and goblets that stood on another table there were very few ornaments, unlike her own home where every surface was covered with costly trinkets. After a while she glanced at the heavy grandfather clock that stood in one corner and tutted. It was terrible of her brother to keep her waiting like this. He could at least have invited her to join the family, but then she supposed she should have expected no more. It had been some time since she had last seen him and they were hardly close.
At last the door opened and Bernard appeared. He was tall and his once thick dark hair was now receding and was specked with grey. But his dark eyes, so like her own, were curious as he looked towards her. He was dressed fashionably in a dark frock coat under which he wore a smart embroidered waistcoat and a silk cravat.
He nodded at her. ‘So, to what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he crossed to the decanters and poured himself a brandy and Dorcas had to swallow the hasty retort that sprang to her lips. She was annoyed that he hadn’t offered her a drink too but it wouldn’t do to upset him right now.
‘I, er .?.?.’
Before she could say any more, the door opened and Sybil appeared and Dorcas’s heart sank even further. She and her sister-in-law had never seen eye to eye and she would have preferred to speak to Bernard alone, but it couldn’t be helped.
Sybil was dressed in a good quality gown but it was a drab grey colour and her once fair hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, which did nothing to flatter her plain features whatsoever. Dorcas had always wondered what Bernard had ever seen in her and had assumed that it was the large dowry she had brought to the marriage that had been the attraction. She had heard rumours that Bernard had a mistress who he had set up in a little cottage on the outskirts of Nuneaton. She had no doubt the rumours were true; Bernard was a vain, bombastic man who liked his own way. It had never occurred to her that the reason they didn’t get along was because they were too much alike. However, despite Bernard’s flaws, the marriage seemed to be standing the test of time and Sybil had presented him with two sons.
‘Good evening,’ Sybil said formally as if she were greeting a stranger. There was no welcoming smile and Dorcas’s spirits sank even lower. ‘May I offer you tea or coffee? Or perhaps you would prefer a glass of sherry?’
‘No, I .?.?. thank you. It was a word with my brother I wanted.’
