Amanda Scott Read Free Page A

at her. “Indeed, Emily, I know that whatever else I may have neglected to write these past months, I did tell you the distressing news about Laurence’s will. I simply cannot comprehend any law that permits a man to put his affairs into another man’s hands rather than into those of his own dear wife.”
    Blinking at the thought of her sister attempting to manage anyone’s affairs, her own certainly included, Emily said slowly, “You did write about the will and that things were left in a mess. That was months ago, of course, but I remember clearly that you said Laurence had named his cousin John guardian to the children and principal trustee of the estate. I know you wrote ‘Cousin John’ or ‘Cousin Jack’—good God, Sabrina, never tell me …”
    Sabrina nodded. “John Rivington is the seventh Earl of Meriden. Indeed, it was he who franked my letter to you. Cousin Jack and Crazy Jack are one and the same.”
    Emily took another sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “So Meriden calls the tune here,” she said at last. “I cannot imagine such a thing. Is he a strict guardian, Sabrina? I’d not have thought it.”
    “You wouldn’t know him now,” said Sabrina, “for he’s changed beyond recognition, although I, too, have a memory, my dear, and I distinctly recall one or two on-dits after Christmas, linking your name with his. Indeed, I am surprised to learn that you knew nothing of our connection with him. But truly, Emily, he is the cause of all our troubles. He has expressed himself most unfeelingly over poor Oliver’s troubles, considering that he is as much to blame for them as the boy is. He expects Oliver to get on at Cambridge on the merest pittance. Laurence was always generous, so it is no wonder that the poor boy went to the money lenders when he ran short. And with his expectations, it is even less wonderful that they broke the law just a trifle and lent him the money he required. But the authorities at Cambridge found out and ordered Oliver home till Michaelmas term.”
    “What expectations?” Emily demanded. “Unless I’m out in my reckoning, Sabrina, Oliver is barely turned eighteen. Surely everything is in trust until he is twenty-one or older. That is the usual method with such estates as Staithes, I believe.”
    “Twenty-five,” said Sabrina.
    “Then—”
    “He is Meriden’s heir as well,” Sabrina explained, “just as poor Laurence was before him, although Laurence, bless him, rarely mentioned the fact to anyone.”
    “But how can that be? Oliver is Baron Staithes. Surely that is not a mere styling, not one of Meriden’s lesser titles.”
    “No, no, the barony derives from Laurence’s grandmother, who was a baroness in her own right. Laurence’s great-grandfather was the fourth Earl of Meriden. His elder son was Meriden’s grandfather, and his younger son married Baroness Staithes. The properties march together, you see, so it was an excellent match, but although both sides produced large families, very few of the males survived. Laurence and Jack were second cousins, the only ones left, so Laurence, although he was the elder by nearly twenty years, was Jack’s heir. Now Oliver holds that position.”
    “But expectations, Sabrina?” Emily stared. “Meriden is not yet thirty, I believe.”
    “But the earls of Meriden have all married young, and he shows no inclination to marry at all. Moreover, I am sure men have died younger than thirty before now,” Sabrina said.
    Emily took her temper firmly in hand and changed the course of the conversation abruptly by asking, “Is Meriden also responsible for Giles’s refusing to come home and for the drastic change you describe in little Melanie?”
    “As to Melanie, I cannot say. I daresay Jack has always been kind to her in his own careless fashion, but yes, he is certainly responsible for the very unhappy letter I received from dearest Giles.”
    “Boy wants smacking,” said Miss Lavinia, speaking up in what Emily was