and square on the landscape. It had belonged to a gentleman farmer who had built himself this house in a style more fitted to his dignity and it now boasted large sash windows and a pedimented front door. The new dwelling had been built at a suitable distance from the old farmhouse and separated from it by the stables and a kitchen garden.
Prospect House was now home to ten women of various ages and stations in life. They tended the house and garden with the help of one manservant, who also looked after the farm. It had taken Molly years of hard work and determination to turn Prospect House into a successful and self-sufficient refuge, and as the carriage turned in through the gates she felt an immense pride in the achievement.
The door was opened to her by Moses, the only male servant, whose size and somewhat bovine countenance belied a sharp intelligence. He had worked at Prospect House all his life, and when Molly bought the property, she had kept him on, recognising that his knowledge of farming would be invaluable. This had engendered Moses with a fierce loyalty to his employer and made him protective of the house and its female residents. Molly greeted him cheerfully and made her way to the office at the back of the house. The pretty blonde poring over the accounts glanced up as the door opened and flew out of her chair to hug her.
‘Molly! I did not expect you to come here in all this rain.’
‘But as patron I must call at least once a week to see how you go on, although I was certainly not going to walk here.’ Molly laughed and returned the hug. ‘But, Fleur, I am interrupting you.’
‘Not a bit of it, I had just finished totting up the money we took at market yesterday and I am pleased to say we sold everything, which was a surprise, given the heavy rain.’
‘I am glad of it and only sorry I did not come over to help you—’
‘There is no need to apologise, Molly, we tell you time and again that we can manage.’ Fleur took her arm. ‘Come along into the drawing room, and we will take tea.’
Molly accompanied Fleur out of the office, reflecting that the happy young woman at her side was a far cry from the frightened girl she had taken in all those years ago. Fleur Dellafield was a childhood friend of Molly’s. She had grown up to be a beauty, but when her widowed mother had married again, life had become a nightmare. She had been thrown out of her home after thwarting her stepfather’s attempts to ravish her. Molly had found her, destitute and starving, and brought her to the newly opened Prospect House. She had settled in well and shown such an aptitude for organisation that Molly had been delighted to make her housekeeper. She had protested at the time that Fleur was too pretty to languish for long at Prospect House, but Fleur had been adamant.
‘I met plenty of gentlemen at my come-out in Bath,’ she had told Molly. ‘I found none of them more than passable, and after what happened with my step-papa, I have no wish to meet any more. No, Molly, I want only a comfortable home and to be needed.’
So Molly had installed Fleur as housekeeper and seen Prospect House flourish. Now, as they entered the drawing room and she saw the welcoming bowl of fresh flowers on the highly polished drum table, Fleur’s words came back to her.
‘I like to come here, Fleur,’ she told her friend. ‘I like to feel I am needed.’
‘Then do, please, call as often as you like, for there is always something to be done!’
Fleur tugged at the bell pull and a few moments later a maid in a snowy cap and apron entered. Molly smiled at her.
‘Good day to you, Daisy. How are you?’
‘Very well, ma’am. Thank you kindly.’ The maid dropped a curtsy, her cheerful face creasing into smiles. ‘Between Miss Fleur and Miss Nancy, I am learning how to run a household and to cook.’
‘And your son?’
‘Ah, Billy is doing very well, thank you, ma’am, although he don’t much like his lessons.’ She gave a sigh. ‘Twice this week I left him practising his letters and he escaped through the window.’
‘He does prefer to be working out of doors,’ remarked Fleur. ‘He is a great asset in the garden and Moses says he has an ability with animals.’
‘Perhaps we should let him help out on the farm more,’ suggested Molly. ‘Although I think it imperative that he learns to read and write, at least enough to get by.’
‘Then I shall tell him that if he works for an hour at his lessons every morning he may spend the rest of the day helping Moses,’ said Fleur. ‘Will that be acceptable to you, Daisy?’
‘Very kind of you, Miss Fleur, and more than we have a right to expect.’
‘Nonsense, you have worked very hard since you have been here and we would like to help you and Billy to find a home of your own. Now, perhaps you would be kind enough to fetch tea for Mrs Morgan and myself, if you please.’ Fleur waited until the door had closed behind the maid before sighing. ‘I wonder if we did the right thing, taking in Daisy Matthews and her son. We have none of us any experience of ten-year-old boys.’
‘But where else would they have gone? Daisy’s employer had thrown them on to the streets upon discovering that Billy was her natural child. And Edwin tells me the vicar who applied to us had tried to find them another home, with no success at all.’
‘It is such a cruel world,’ said Fleur, her kind face troubled, but then she brightened. ‘However, Daisy is quick to learn, and I am already looking about for a suitable position, although I fear Billy may not be able to go with her. However, if all else fails he can stay here and help Moses.’
‘A very sensible idea,’ agreed Molly, ‘but we can make no decisions until we have procured a position for Daisy. Which reminds me, I was in Hebden’s on Friday last and saw Clara at work. You will be pleased to learn that Miss Hebden is delighted with her, so I think we may write that down as another success. Now, you must tell me how everyone else goes on here.’
Molly listened carefully while Fleur made her report. It did not take long and they had finished their business by the time Daisy returned with the tea tray.
‘Which means we may now please ourselves what we talk of,’ declared Fleur, preparing tea for her guest. ‘And I very much want to know what you think of our new neighbour at Newlands.’ Molly did not reply immediately and Fleur shook her head at her. ‘You cannot think that we would remain in ignorance,’ she said, handing her friend a cup of tea. ‘Everyone at the market this week was talking of Sir Gerald and his friends. I would like to know your opinion.’
Molly made a cautious reply. ‘They are all extremely fashionable.’
‘They spend a great deal of time in London I believe,’ remarked Fleur. ‘Six men, I understand. Are all of them libertines, do you think?’
Molly was surprised into a laugh. ‘Good heavens, Fleur, that is very blunt. Why should you think that?’
‘Nancy told me.’
‘Ah, of course.’
Molly sipped her tea and considered the woman who was now cook at Prospect House. Nancy, or more correctly Lady Ann, was the youngest daughter of an eccentric and impoverished earl who had tried to force her into a marriage with a man old enough to be her grandfather. Molly should have remembered that she was still in contact with one of her sisters, a terrific gossip, who kept her well informed of the latest London scandals.
‘So, Molly, tell me what you think,’ Fleur prompted her.
‘Edwin thinks them all very gentlemen-like.’
‘But you, Molly. What do you think?’
With her friend’s anxious blue gaze upon her, Molly could not lie.
‘I suspect one or two of them might have a...a roving eye.’ She saw Fleur’s look of alarm and hurried on. ‘They know of Prospect House, of course, but there is no reason to think they will call here. I gave them to understand you were very well protected.’
‘That