As it happened, the cousin who had inherited the estate was away from home at some kind of family gathering, which turned out to be a good thing. The servants, once they realized Leo was Miss Clarissa’s guardian, were eager to talk to him and get news of the girls.
Both girls, he noted, not just Miss Clarissa. The cook gave him tea and dainty biscuits and someone summoned Edwards, the estate manager. He quickly joined Leo and helped himself to the refreshments.
“I’m inquiring about the arrangements made for Sir Bartleby’s former servants,” Leo told him.
“Oh aye?” The man quirked an eyebrow in a manner indicating he thought it none of Leo’s business.
“Miss Studley is concerned about their welfare,” Leoexplained. “Fearing her father might not have made sufficient provision.”
The man relaxed. “She was right there. But you can tell Miss Clarissa that we’re all in good hands with the new master.”
“Everyone is employed?”
“All but a groom I would have sacked anyway, and old Nanny Best.” He grimaced. “The young master is only just wed and has no need for a nanny yet. Even so, she’s really too old to take charge of a young child—she’s past seventy. The master has been sympathetic, but she’s been given until the end of the month to make other arrangements.” His expression was grim. “I don’t know what will become of her.”
“Nanny Best will be taken care of,” Leo said briskly. “Arrangements have been made for her.”
“Oh aye?” Edwards said cynically. “What sort of arrangements and by whom? Not Sir Bartleby, I’m thinking.”
Leo gave him a mind-your-own-business kind of look that normally quelled questioners, but Edwards just laughed. “I didn’t think so. That man never spent a penny except on himself. So you or the girls are taking responsibility?”
Leo gave a curt nod. “There is a cottage vacant on my estate. She will live there, and be given a pension to live on. And be cared for in her old age.”
Edwards’s eyes warmed. “Thank you, my lord, it’s very good of you. Nanny Best was Miss Clarissa’s mother’s nanny, too, and it was a disgrace that after decades of service she was left with nothing.”
Leo hadn’t realized that.
Edwards glanced at the cooling pot of tea and sent for ale and sandwiches, which arrived quickly. Leo took advantage of the relaxed atmosphere to ask him about the young ladies’ histories. He told himself it was part of his duty as a guardian, but really, he was just curious.
“Miss Izzy was the best thing that ever happened to Miss Clarissa,” Edwards said. “Before she came, little Miss Clarissa wouldn’t say boo to a goose. She used to drift around the house, a shy and lonely little sprout. The master never let her play with the village children, see, and look around you”—he gestured—“have you seen anyone under the age of fifty here? As I said, Nanny Best is past seventy now, and what kind of company was that for a young girl?” He tasted his ale, gave an approving nod and took a deeper draft. “Miss Clarissa and Miss Izzy took to each other from the very first day, and from that moment on they were inseparable.”
“Sir Bartleby expressed concern that his natural daughter was exerting undue influence over Miss Studely.”
Edwards gave a scornful snort. “As if he would know. He barely came near this place while the girls were growing up, and when he did—” He broke off. “Well, no use in speaking ill of the dead...” He picked up a sandwich and ate it in two bites.
“If Sir Bartleby was so unhappy with his natural daughter living here, why did he allow it?”
Edwards snorted again. “Miss Clarissa wouldn’t let him take her away. You should have seen her standing up to her father—her that used to be as soft as a newborn kitten. Grew a backbone, she did, once her sister came to live with her. Told her father to his face, more than once, ‘She’s my sister, Papa, and I’m keeping her.’ And whenever Sir Bartleby was in residence—which wasn’t often—the girls hid themselves away.” Edwards chuckled reminiscently. “They reckoned he couldn’t toss Miss Izzy out if he couldn’t find her.”
Leo drank his ale. It was very good. Edwards, and indeed all the servants, must have cooperated to conceal Isobel from her father. How interesting.
Leo looked up to find Edwards watching him. “Anyinfluence Miss Izzy had over Miss Clarissa was all to the good,” the man said firmly. “She’s a handful, Miss Izzy, full of mischief—and didn’t she lead us all a merry dance at times?—but she’s a good-hearted little lass and there’s not a mean bone in her body. She’d do anything for her sister. And after she came to live here, Miss Clarissa blossomed.”
Edwards set down his tankard, leaned forward and gave Leo a stern look. “You don’t want to take too much notice of whatever Sir Bartleby told you, my lord. He had it in for that child from the moment he knew of her. It’s as if he blamed her for her own birth.” He shook his head. “And he punished Miss Clarissa for siding with her sister.”
“How?” Leo asked.
Edwards made a disgusted gesture. “Made them both homeless didn’t he? Sir Bartleby should have left Miss Clarissa the house and estate, but instead he left it to some distant cousin he’d never even met. He thrust his own daughter—both his daughters—out into the cold, made them homeless.” If they’d been outdoors, Leo thought, the man would have spat.
Leo blinked. “I assumed there was an entail.”
“ ‘An entail’?” Edwards repeated scornfully. “No, Lord Salcott, there was no entail. Sir Bartleby could have left the estate to whoever he wanted. And so he did. That man never did forgive the girls for defying him, and he made that will out of pure spite.”
How shocking, that a man could make both his daughters homeless for such a petty reason. And leave a damning letter behind to make things worse for Isobel.
Even as a young girl, she was attempting to work her wiles on my guests.
“Sir Bartleby implied Miss Isobel showed a... an untoward interest in his male guests.”
