afternoon the four of them had gathered in the library. Clarissa could even now hear again the sound of voices drifting in from the lawns beyond the mullioned windows that stood open to the soft air perfumed with blossom from the surrounding cherry orchards. She could feel the gentle breeze that lifted tendrils of her hair on the nape of her neck, and shecould hear Lawyer Danforth’s dry tones as he read the will.
“ ‘I, Francis Evelyn Astley, being of sound mind, do hereby leave my fortune and estate to my son and heir, Francis Charles Astley. To my daughter, Clarissa Elizabeth Astley, when she attains her majority, I leave, in addition to her inheritance from her mother, the sum of ten thousand pounds. My children will be in the guardianship of my brother Luke Victor Astley until my daughter attains her twenty-first birthday. Upon reaching her majority, my daughter will assume the guardianship of my son. Until that time my daughter is to receive the same quarterly allowance from the estate as she has hitherto.’ ”
Clarissa could see Luke standing in front of the empty grate, his eyes on the richly hued carpet at his feet. Francis was sitting on the window seat swinging his nankeen-clad legs, his solemn little face still puffy and tearstained. When the lawyer finished reading Luke raised his eyes and cast one long speculative look at the child on the window seat, then his gaze flickered across his niece’s countenance before he resumed his examination of the carpet. He said nothing but Clarissa was aware of a stab of dismay.
The lawyer cleared his throat and continued to read the list of minor bequests, but he’d lost the attention of his audience. Clarissa had known that she should not have been surprised at her uncle’s guardianship. On paper it was the most logical, reasonable disposition forher parent to have made. She would not gain her majority for a year and could not assume responsibility for Francis until then. But she had hoped in her heart that her father would have left his children to the nominal care of one or both of his dearest friends, the doctor and the lawyer. He had known that she was perfectly capable of looking after Francis, running the house, and even conferring with her father’s agent on estate matters. She could have looked to either of her father’s old friends for advice. But Squire Astley would not have wished to offend his brother, and such an oversight would have looked strange to the world.
Luke returned to London almost immediately after the reading of the will, and for the next month, life continued along its usual paths. Francis began to come to terms with his father’s death, although he became very dependent on his sister, needing to know where she was at any given moment. He continued to study with his tutor in the company of the vicar’s children and Clarissa continued to run the household as she had done since her mother’s death.
There had been no communication from Luke and Clarissa was beginning to think that the ten months remaining before her twenty-first birthday would continue unaffected by his guardianship . . . until one morning. She remembered coming downstairs, light-footed as always, ready and eager to start the day. She’d entered the breakfast parlor and all her optimistic anticipation vanished under a wash of disquiet. Luke was sitting at thebreakfast table. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked thinner and paler than ever, his hand curled around a bumper of brandy, an untouched platter of sirloin in front of him.
“Why, Uncle, this is a surprise. We weren’t expecting you.”
His eyes slithered away from her startled gaze as he said, “I left London at dawn. I’m here to take Francis back to London with me. I’d like to leave within the next couple of hours, so could you get him ready and see to his packing?”
Clarissa protested, trying to keep her tone courteous and reasonable. “But, Uncle, you can’t just tear a child from his home,
“ ‘I, Francis Evelyn Astley, being of sound mind, do hereby leave my fortune and estate to my son and heir, Francis Charles Astley. To my daughter, Clarissa Elizabeth Astley, when she attains her majority, I leave, in addition to her inheritance from her mother, the sum of ten thousand pounds. My children will be in the guardianship of my brother Luke Victor Astley until my daughter attains her twenty-first birthday. Upon reaching her majority, my daughter will assume the guardianship of my son. Until that time my daughter is to receive the same quarterly allowance from the estate as she has hitherto.’ ”
Clarissa could see Luke standing in front of the empty grate, his eyes on the richly hued carpet at his feet. Francis was sitting on the window seat swinging his nankeen-clad legs, his solemn little face still puffy and tearstained. When the lawyer finished reading Luke raised his eyes and cast one long speculative look at the child on the window seat, then his gaze flickered across his niece’s countenance before he resumed his examination of the carpet. He said nothing but Clarissa was aware of a stab of dismay.
The lawyer cleared his throat and continued to read the list of minor bequests, but he’d lost the attention of his audience. Clarissa had known that she should not have been surprised at her uncle’s guardianship. On paper it was the most logical, reasonable disposition forher parent to have made. She would not gain her majority for a year and could not assume responsibility for Francis until then. But she had hoped in her heart that her father would have left his children to the nominal care of one or both of his dearest friends, the doctor and the lawyer. He had known that she was perfectly capable of looking after Francis, running the house, and even conferring with her father’s agent on estate matters. She could have looked to either of her father’s old friends for advice. But Squire Astley would not have wished to offend his brother, and such an oversight would have looked strange to the world.
Luke returned to London almost immediately after the reading of the will, and for the next month, life continued along its usual paths. Francis began to come to terms with his father’s death, although he became very dependent on his sister, needing to know where she was at any given moment. He continued to study with his tutor in the company of the vicar’s children and Clarissa continued to run the household as she had done since her mother’s death.
There had been no communication from Luke and Clarissa was beginning to think that the ten months remaining before her twenty-first birthday would continue unaffected by his guardianship . . . until one morning. She remembered coming downstairs, light-footed as always, ready and eager to start the day. She’d entered the breakfast parlor and all her optimistic anticipation vanished under a wash of disquiet. Luke was sitting at thebreakfast table. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked thinner and paler than ever, his hand curled around a bumper of brandy, an untouched platter of sirloin in front of him.
“Why, Uncle, this is a surprise. We weren’t expecting you.”
His eyes slithered away from her startled gaze as he said, “I left London at dawn. I’m here to take Francis back to London with me. I’d like to leave within the next couple of hours, so could you get him ready and see to his packing?”
Clarissa protested, trying to keep her tone courteous and reasonable. “But, Uncle, you can’t just tear a child from his home,
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