looked him in the eye. ‘It was shockingly bad, Charles. The roof leaks so much that one of the bedrooms has an impromptu indoor waterfall and the wood of the front door has swollen in the damp of the winter, then dried out in the summer and cracked across the frame. Several of the windows are broken and the place is infested with mice.’ Annis made a hopeless gesture. ‘And about it all is an air so tumbledown and neglected that I think it would take a fortune to put to rights. You know as well as I that I do not possess such a fortune.’
Charles was looking tired. He ran a hand through his fair hair. ‘I have tried, Annis. The money you have sent me has all been passed to Tom Shepard to spend on the upkeep of the home farm. There is simply not enough to go round.’
‘He told me.’ Annis passed her cousin a glass of brandy from the decanter. ‘He said that there were insufficient funds and that you had too little time to spend there.’
Charles flushed guiltily. ‘It is true that I have been very busy of late. My work for Ingram…’ He shrugged expressively.
‘Tom was telling me that there has been a poor harvest these two years past and a bad winter this year. People are barely surviving, Charles.’
Charles shifted, leaning forward. ‘Annis, I know you are opposed to selling, but for the sake of the estate you must consider it.’
Annis jumped to her feet. Her instinctive reaction was to refuse. ‘No!’ She swung around. ‘Charles, one of the reasons that Starbeck is in such a parlous state is that there has been no permanent tenant for over two years.’ She hesitated. ‘Have you tried—truly tried—to find one for me?’
There was a moment when her cousin looked her in the eye and she was convinced he was going to tell her the truth. Adam’s words rang in her ears: The reason that you have not had a permanent tenant at Starbeck for the past two years, Lady Wycherley, is that your cousin has deliberately avoided finding one. He wishes the house to fall down and for you to be unable to afford the repairs. That way Mr Ingram can step in…
Then Charles looked away and fidgeted with his empty brandy glass.
‘Annis…’ His tone was reasonable. ‘Of course I tried…’
‘I see.’ Annis felt a chill. ‘Yet you found no one.’
‘It is not all bad news,’ Charles said encouragingly. ‘Mr Ingram would be interested in buying Starbeck from you, Annis.’
Annis glared at him. ‘I am sure that he would, Charles.’
Charles got to his feet. ‘I must go. Please think about Ingram’s offer, Annis. It would solve your difficulties.’ He came across to kiss her cheek and it was only by an effort of will that Annis did not pull away.
‘Goodnight, Charles,’ she said tightly.
After her cousin had gone, Annis sat by the window and looked out over the twilit garden. She could not bear to sell Starbeck. It would be like selling a part of her independence. As for Charles, for all his denials, she did not trust him. It had all happened just as Adam Ashwick had predicted.
Annis found that she was looking across to the houses opposite, where the lights burned in the house Adam had taken. She wondered if he had returned to Harrogate that afternoon or whether he had stayed at Eynhallow. Then she wondered when she would see him again, and then wondered why she was wondering! Finally, in a burst of irritation, she twitched the curtains closed and went up to bed, to dream, blissfully, about being swept off her feet.
Chapter Four
Fanny and Lucy Crossley returned the following day, full of chatter and excitement about their stay with the Anstey family. There was a ball that night at the Granby, and on the following morning, Lucy vouchsafed that Lieutenant Norwood had suggested a carriage outing to the River Nidd at Howden.
‘It is not very far and should prove a pleasant trip for a summer day,’ she begged, when Annis expressed reservations about the plan. ‘Oh, please, Lady Wycherley, do let us go!’
Annis was torn. On the one hand she had seen the growing regard between Lucy and Barnaby Norwood and wished to encourage it, Mr Norwood being a most eligible young man. On the other hand, Lieutenant Norwood’s best friend was the dashing Lieutenant Greaves, and the last thing that Annis wanted was to throw Fanny and Greaves together. In the end, unable to resist the mixture of hope and pleading in Lucy’s eyes, Annis agreed, consoling herself with the thought that she would be able to keep a close eye on Fanny and that Sir Everard Doble was also to be one of their party. The young baronet arrived for the outing with a volume of poetry clasped under one arm and a boater with coloured ribbons adorning his head, and Lucy and Fanny were hard put to it to conceal their mirth.
Mindful of the heat of the day, Annis had discarded her evening blacks for a muslin gown in pale pink, with a straw hat with matching ribbons and a pale pink parasol. When she first appeared, Lucy’s eyes lit up like stars.
‘Why, Lady Wycherley, you look famously pretty!’
Fanny screwed up her hard little face. ‘You look too young to be our chaperon,’ she said disagreeably, and Annis, smiling widely, reflected that that was as close to a compliment as she was ever likely to get from Fanny.
It was a glorious day and the party was in high spirits as they set off. Lieutenants Norwood and Greaves kept up a flow of easy conversation with the girls, whilst Sir Everard sat reading his poetry and Annis looked out of the carriage window at the view. Howden was an attractive little village and there was a charming riverside path that ran along the bank under the dappled shadow of the willow trees. Fanny and Lucy chattered constantly, seemingly unimpressed by the natural beauty around them. Annis, having ensured that Fanny took Sir Everard’s arm rather than that of Lieutenant Greaves, was content to stroll along behind, enjoying the cool shade.
They reached a place where the bank opened out into a wide meadow. Lieutenant Greaves started to recite some poetry, in evident mockery of Sir Everard, who frowned at such levity and walked off on his own. The girls giggled. Annis turned away, irritated, and caught sight of a man standing beneath the weeping willows, gazing out across the water meadows to where the spire of a church cut the heat haze. At the sound of voices he turned impatiently and looked as though he was about to stride away. Then he checked. Annis, with a mixture of surprise and hastily repressed anticipation, recognised Adam Ashwick.
She hesitated. His stance was very much that of a person who wished to be left alone, but it seemed churlish to ignore him when it was obvious that they had recognised one another. After a moment she walked across to join him in the lee of the willows, and Adam sketched a slight bow.
‘How do you do, Lady Wycherley?’
Annis could not tell from his tone whether he was pleased to see her but she thought that probably he was not. She suspected that he was annoyed that she had brought a group of chattering youngsters to spoil the peace.
She tilted her parasol to shadow her eyes. The reflection off the water was blinding.
‘Good afternoon, Lord Ashwick. This is a beautiful spot.’
Adam Ashwick’s lips twisted into a smile. ‘It is indeed, Lady Wycherley. I often come her when I am looking for a little solitude.’
There was only one way to take that. Annis blushed and felt vexed, with him for his frankness and with herself for originally being pleased to see him when he so clearly wished to avoid company.
‘Then I beg your pardon for spoiling your retreat, sir.’
She made to walk away, but Adam put a hand on her arm. ‘Lady Wycherley. Forgive me, that was unconscionably clumsy of me. Will you not stay for a little?’
Annis hesitated. She had enough of an excuse to walk away if she wished, for Fanny and Lucy were now shrieking and running around in a most unladylike fashion. Lieutenant Greaves and Lieutenant Norwood were making impromptu boats from twigs and arranging a race down the river. Sir Everard stood a little apart, arms folded, looking disapproving. He had an unfortunate