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out.”
    Lucia was dumbstruck. Sell Bingham Hall? That could not happen!
    Just then, her mother entered the room. All the bloom had drained from her cheeks and her eyes were puffy from crying.
    â€œOh, my dear. I am so sorry,” she wailed rushing to Lucia’s side. “I have already told you how my long illness and the expense of settling your father’s debts had plunged us into debt. I did not tell you at the time, but I had to mortgage Bingham Hall to make ends meet. So, now there is no spare money.”
    Lucia looked up miserably at her mother and then at Sir Arthur, who stood at his desk fuming, as if it had somehow been Lord Mountford’s fault that he was now in danger of bankruptcy.
    â€˜How dare he look injured, when it is all his fault that we now find ourselves in such dreadful circumstances after persuading Mama to marry him off the back of his so-called fortune!’
    She wished she could voice her feelings and may indeed have done, had her mother not presented such a pathetically sad figure beside her. She was crying again and wringing her hands.
    â€œWhat is to become of us? What is to become of us?” she repeated over and over again.
    â€œAs I said to your mother,” continued Sir Arthur, “it may come to pass that I shall have to sell everything I own down South and then, we will have to move to my home in Didsbury.”
    â€œMove up North?” cried Lucia horrified. “That would mean us leaving all we have known in Shilborough – and London! Mama, you cannot agree to this.”
    â€œDarling, we might not have the choice,” said her mother in a wan voice. “If your stepfather cannot raise the money, you will have to face the fact that we shall have to move.”
    Lucia sat in her chair feeling numb and shocked. She had not expected anything so dreadful.
    â€˜Leave Bingham Hall?’ she wailed to herself, as her mother continued to cry softly.
    Just when she had believed her life to be starting anew comes this ghastly piece of news.
    â€˜Leave Shilborough for some dirty Northern town I will hate? Never! Never!’

CHAPTER THREE
    A pall of misery hung over Bingham Hall for the next few days.
    Lucia scarcely saw Sir Arthur who spent much of his time closeted in the study with dour-looking men who had the slightly earnest air of accountants.
    Lucia became accustomed to dining alone with her mother, as his meetings went on long into the evening.
    She became very concerned about the change that had come over her mother during this time. The healthy complexion she had brought back from Italy soon vanished and often she took to her bed for hours at a time.
    The cough that she had dismissed as being ‘slight’ became more pronounced and Lucia could hear it echoing along the corridors late at night.
    She pushed her food around her plate at mealtimes and said she was not hungry. Lucia kept a close eye upon her, fearing that her old illness might recur.
    She almost telephoned Edward de Redcliffe to ask him to take someone else to the ball, but her mother would not hear of it.
    â€œYou must go and keep your stepfather company,” she insisted, sitting up in bed one afternoon. “I know you have given your word to Edward that you will go, but promise me that you will make certain that your stepfather is also entertained.”
    â€œYes, Mama,” Lucia answered glumly, thinking that she might prefer to stay at home if she were forced to spend more than five minutes alone with her stepfather.
    As they were discussing who else might be going to the ball, Sir Arthur walked into the bedroom.
    â€œAre you feeling any better?” he asked without a hint of emotion in his voice.
    â€œYes, thank you, dear. I am just a little tired. I have asked Lucia to keep you company at the ball in a few days time.”
    Sir Arthur raised an eyebrow at his stepdaughter.
    â€œI trust you are not thinking of rushing off to Bond Street to buy some