why he chose you above anyone else.’ Frowning, the lawyer considered more fully for a moment. ‘Given what you have unselfishly done on his behalf, his lordship must be satisfied as to your integrity. Naturally, he has the children’s best interests at heart. Until such time as he is able to undertake the duties of his guardianship, he wishes his wards kept well away from their uncle’s sphere—their late mother’s brother, that is.’
‘Does his lordship believe the children’s uncle means them harm?’
‘I shall be diplomatic here, Miss Mortimer,’ he responded after a further moment’s consideration, ‘and say that neither his lordship nor myself believe the gentleman to be in the least trustworthy. He resided with his sister throughout the last year of her life, during which time certain irregularities came to light with regard to her finances. One can only speculate as to why so many large sums were withdrawn from her bank during this period. Furthermore a letter, supposedly written by the children’s mother, unexpectedly came to light shortly after her death. In it she requested an adjustment to her will, naming her brother sole guardian to her children, and sole beneficiary in the event of their deaths, giving the reason for the changes as a staunch belief that the present Lord Blackwood would be an unfit guardian. I am now in possession of certain letters written over the years by Sarah Collier to his lordship, the last one penned no more than three months ago, that clearly refute this. Therefore, it is my belief that either pressure was brought to bear upon the lady, when she was not in full possession of her faculties, to make adjustments to her will, or the letter is a complete forgery. I strongly suspect the latter.’
‘There was nothing suspicious about her death, though, surely?’ Isabel asked gently.
‘Nothing whatsoever, Miss Mortimer,’ he assured her. ‘She died of typhus.’
Isabel was far from sure that she wished to burden herself with the responsibilities of caring for two recently orphaned children. After all, what would happen if the uncle should happen to come to Northamptonshire in search of his niece and nephew?
‘I think that most unlikely, Miss Mortimer,’ the lawyer assured her, after she’d voiced this fear aloud. ‘The uncle, Mr Danforth, is completely unaware of his lordship’s present whereabouts. If he chose to make enquiries, all he would discover is that the Manor and his lordship’s town house are still unoccupied, as they have been for more than eight years, save for one reliable servant in each. Furthermore, Danforth knows I removed the children from their home. I know for a fact that my own house has been watched during this past week. I strongly suspect that he believes, you see, I
have the children safely hidden in London. By the time he has exhausted every possibility, and I have several sisters residing in the metropolis, it is fervently hoped that his lordship will have been cleared of all charges against him, and I myself shall have proved beyond doubt that Sarah Collier’s supposed adjustment to her will is entirely fraudulent.
‘But until such time, and if you are agreeable,’ he went on, when all Isabel did was to stare at him in thoughtful silence, still unsure what she should do, ‘his lordship has instructed me to give you this, in advance, in the hope that you will accept the responsibility he would place upon you.’
Delving into his bag once again, he drew out a bulging leather purse, which he promptly deposited on the low table between them. Isabel could only speculate on how much it contained. None the less, she suspected it held a considerable sum, perhaps more than she’d seen at any one time in her entire life.
‘His lordship will ensure that a draft on his bank is sent to you at the beginning of each month, until such time as he is able to make alternative arrangements. He wishes the children to be as little trouble to you as possible, and therefore requests that a governess be engaged, and any other help you deem necessary. I had no time to engage a suitable person, but if you are happy to accept the responsibility, I shall gladly do so on my return to London.’
‘No, there’s no need for you to trouble yourself, sir,’ she countered. ‘I happen to know of the very person.’
‘Do I infer correctly from that, Miss Mortimer, that you are agreeable to his lordship’s request?’
‘Yes, sir, you may be sure I am.’ The bulging purse on the table having comprehensively silenced the voice of doubt.
Although Clara had little difficulty in winning the trust and affection of little Alice Collier, her stronger-willed brother proved a different matter entirely. As Isabel had suspected, young Joshua had little appreciation of Clara’s beauty and, as things turned out, he wasn’t above taking wicked advantage of her innate good nature either.
On several occasions during those first weeks, Isabel was called upon to restore order to the upstairs chamber that functioned as a schoolroom-cum-nursery. Which she did in a swift and very effective fashion. Whether it was because she would tolerate no nonsense, or the fact that she was happy to take him along with her whenever she went out hunting or fishing that quickly won the boy’s respect was difficult to judge. Notwithstanding, by the time autumn gave way to winter, it was clear to all at the farmhouse that Master Joshua Collier had grown inordinately fond of the mistress of the house.
Naturally, having a young boy and girl residing under the roof resulted in a much more relaxed and cheerful atmosphere about the place. Bessie, however, considered there was more to it than just having two very contented children round the house.
The prompt payments sent by Mr Goodbody early each month had brought about numerous beneficial changes. Clara’s employment as governess had resulted in her feeling a deal happier knowing she was able to contribute something towards household expenses. The extra money had meant that items, once considered unnecessary luxuries, had been purchased, making life at the farmhouse so very much easier and agreeable. Most gratifying of all, as far as Bessie was concerned, was the non-appearance of those troubled frowns over financial matters that had from time to time creased her young mistress’s intelligent brow during recent years, whenever money for large bills had needed to be found.
Although he made no attempt to return to the farmhouse to see how the children fared, Mr Goodbody never failed to enquire after their welfare in the accompanying letter he always forwarded with the promissory note; Isabel duly replied, attesting to their continued well-being, and assumed he must surely pass these assurances on to the children’s guardian.
Of his lordship himself, however, Isabel saw and heard nothing; until, that is, the arrival of Mr Goodbody’s December letter, wherein he apprised her of the fact that the seventh Viscount Blackwood had finally been cleared of all charges against him, and was now at liberty to take up his rightful place at the ancestral home.
Isabel received this news with decidedly mixed feelings. On the one hand she knew it would greatly benefit many in the local community to have the Manor inhabited again; on the other, she would miss the children, most especially Josh. She was honest enough to admit, too, that she would miss the generous payments she had received over the past months for taking care of the orphans.
The New Year arrived with still no sign of the Viscount. Nevertheless, it was common knowledge that an army of local tradesmen had been hired to work in the Manor. So it stood to reason that Lord Blackwood was planning to take up residence at some point in the near future.
An unusually dry January gave way to a damp and dismal February, and brought with it no further news of his lordship. Then, in the middle of the month, an unexpected cold spell struck the county, making travel virtually impossible, even the shortest journeys, for several days. The vast majority of people, of course, were glad when at last the thaw set in, and they could go about their daily business unhindered; but not so Josh and Alice, who returned to the farmhouse with their governess, looking most disgruntled.
‘My snowman’s dying,’ Alice lamented, close to tears.
Both Isabel and Bessie, who were busily preparing the luncheon, tried to appear suitably sympathetic, unlike Alice’s brother, who was far more matter-of-fact about it all.
‘He’s not dying, you goose!’ Josh admonished. ‘He’s just melting. Snowmen aren’t alive, are they, Miss Isabel?’