Anna Jacobs Read Free

saddled the horses he’d hired, Matthew paused as he heard voices from the other side of the wall. Deborah’s voice carried particularly clearly and her words made him scowl. Maybe she was more mercenary than he had thought.
    “I can’t—I simply can’t!—let this opportunity pass!” that determined voice declared.
    Matthew gave a snort of bitter laughter. She was little different from other women, it seemed. Most of them would do anything for money. Well, he’d be interested to see if she was still determined to accept the offer when Ralph told her exactly what he wanted. Very interested.
    He grimaced at his own scruples. Who was he to judge her? She wasn’t the only one unwilling to let this opportunity pass. But at least his motives included love of Marymoor House and a fondness for Ralph, as well as a desire to better himself.
    “So we’re agreed on one thing, at least, Miss Deborah Jannvier,” he muttered. “Let’s hope it’ll be enough.”
    * * * *
    In the garden there was silence for a few moments, then Isabel’s vague blue eyes came suddenly into sharp focus. “I do understand,” she said quietly and patted her daughter’s hand, leaving a smear of rich brown soil across the slender wrist. “You must do whatever you think right, dear. When do you leave?”
    “In half an hour—less. The man who brought the message will escort me to Marymoor. We’re to ride there. How far away is it?” 
    “I don’t know exactly. I’ve never been there. About thirty miles, I suppose. A ride of several hours at night. You will be careful?”
    Deborah hugged her again. “Of course!”
    Bessie could stay silent no longer. “Mrs Isabel, you’re never going to let her go!”
    “Why should I not?”
    “Riding alone—across country—with a strange man! It’s not decent.”
    “I trust my daughter absolutely.”
    “But we know nothing about him and—”
    Deborah started walking towards the house. “May I borrow your riding habit, Mother?” she called over her shoulder
    “Yes, of course, dear. You know I have no need of it.”
    Indeed she did know, Deborah thought bitterly. Her Uncle Walter had a stable full of horses, but none was ever offered for the occupants of this cottage to use. They had to walk everywhere, except when he sent the carriage to take them up to the Hall to dine, which he only did when he had nothing better to entertain him, and this kept them effectively prisoner in Newgarth village.
    The maid stayed behind with her mistress to say urgently, “You can’t let her go off like that, Mrs Isabel! It’s too dangerous! He’s a stranger. He might even be an impostor. And besides, she has no experience of men like him.”
    “What do you mean ‘men like him’? What was he like?”
    “Well,” Bessie sniffed in disapproval, “he was good-looking, you can’t deny that, the sort of man women run after and make fools of themselves over. But you can never tell what’s behind a face, can you, not on one short meeting? He’s no gentleman, that’s for sure, for all his clothes are of good quality.”
    Isabel’s blue eyes became vague again. “I shall trust Deborah’s judgement in this. Besides, when have I ever been able to stop anyone from doing what they want?”
    Bessie sighed, gave her lady a quick hug, sighing for the way life had reduced Isabel to a shadow of her old self, then bustled off to help Miss Deborah.
    * * * *
    When the voices faded from the other side of the wall, Matthew glanced across at the inn and decided that another pot of ale and something to eat would not go amiss before the journey. As he strolled back, he pondered on what he’d overheard. Was the mother complaining of the daughter’s wilfulness—or of her husband’s feckless nature? Was the daughter as mercenary as she had sounded? He shrugged. Only time would tell—and whatever Deborah Jannvier’s nature, he would so as his dying friend wished.
    Anthony Elkin was not going to profit from Ralph