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you ask me.”
    “Elizabeth is very spirited,” Robert said dubiously.
    “That’s true,” Father said with a laugh. “I remember when we shot the last wolf in this part of Scotland, eight or ten years ago, and she insisted on raising the cubs herself. She used to walk around with two little wolves on a leash. You’ve never seen anything like it in your life! The gamekeepers were outraged, said the cubs would escape and become a menace—but they died, fortunately.”
    “She may make a troublesome wife,” Robert said.
    “Nothing like a mettlesome mare,” Sir George said. “Besides, a husband always has the upper hand, no matter what. You could do a lot worse.” He lowered his voice. “Lady Hallim holds the estate in trust until Elizabeth marries. Since a woman’s property belongs to her husband, the whole place will become her bridegroom’s on her wedding day.”
    “I know,” Robert said.
    Jay had not known, but he was not surprised: few men would be happy to bequeath a sizable estate to a woman.
    Sir George went on: “There must be a million tons of coal under High Glen—all the seams run in that direction. The girl is sitting on a fortune, pardon the vulgarity.” He chortled.
    Robert was characteristically dour. “I’m not sure how much she likes me.”
    “What is there to dislike? You’re young, you’re going to be rich, and when I die you’ll be a baronet—what more could a girl want?”
    “Romance?” Robert answered. He pronounced the word with distaste, as if it were an unfamiliar coin offered by a foreign merchant.
    “Miss Hallim can’t afford romance.”
    “I don’t know,” Robert said. “Lady Hallim has been living in debt since I can remember. Why should she not go on like that forever?”
    “I’ll tell you a secret,” Sir George said. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was not overheard. “You know she has mortgaged the entire estate?”
    “Everyone knows that.”
    “I happen to know that her creditor is not willing to renew.”
    Robert said: “But surely she could raise the money from another lender, and pay him off.”
    “Probably,” Sir George said. “But she doesn’t know it. And her financial adviser won’t tell her—I’ve made sure of that.”
    Jay wondered what bribe or threat his father had used to suborn Lady Hallim’s adviser.
    Sir George chuckled. “So, you see, Robert, young Elizabeth can’t afford to turn you down.”
    At that moment Henry Drome broke away from his conversation and came over to the three Jamisson men. “Before we go in to dinner, George, there’s something I have to ask you. I may speak freely in front of your sons, I know.”
    “Of course.”
    “The American troubles have hit me quite hard—planters who can’t pay their debts, and so on—and I fear I can’t meet my obligations to you this quarter.”
    Sir George had obviously loaned money to Henry. Normally Father was brutally practical with debtors: they paid, or they went to jail. Now, however, he said: “I understand, Henry. Times are hard. Pay me when you can.”
    Jay’s jaw dropped, but a moment later he realized why his father was being so soft. Drome was a relative of Robert’s mother, Olive, and Father was being easy on Henry for her sake. Jay was so disgusted he walked away.
    The ladies came back. Jay’s mother wore a suppressed smile, as if she had an amusing secret. Before he could ask her what it was another guest arrived, a stranger in clerical gray. Alicia spoke to the man then took him to Sir George. “This is Mr. Cheshire,” she said. “He’s come in place of the pastor.”
    The newcomer was a pockmarked young man with spectacles and an old-fashioned curly wig. Although Sir George and the older men still wore wigs, younger men did so rarely, and Jay never did. “Reverend Mr. York sends his apologies,” said Mr. Cheshire.
    “Not at all, not at all,” said Sir George, turning away: he was not interested in obscure young clergymen.
    They went