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was a prudent measure, but she knew full well she was procrastinating. As a light breeze lifted the fine locks of hair from her head, she looked out across the fields all the way out into Longman’s Cove and up to Longman’s Point.
    Patting the few errant curls firmly back into the tightly held bun, Harriet resolved to be civil as she entered the shop. She knew how much the lace was worth and what she would accept for it. Edgar, the toad, paid too little. Her friends starved as a consequence.
    Drawing herself up straight to all of her four foot and ten inches, she pushed open the solid white door and entered the shop.
     

CHAPTER 4
     
    Mr. Granger, the solicitor, stopped speaking and coughed into the silence. James struggled to speak, as anger consumed him.
    His mother gave a wild sob.
    “Hells bells,” Cecilia said quietly. James folded his arms and leaned heavily back again on the mantelpiece.
    “Damn man,” Edgar shouted as he jumped to his feet. “How can you be so calm? You've just lost your estate!” He gave a squeaky snort and sat down again, his head in his hands.
    James stared at him. He could hear his father laughing, see him seated at his desk in his study, the wooden baton with its curly tail beside him, writing those words… I bequeath nothing… he disappointed me . He shuddered. Devil take it, he had banked on getting the estate. He’d had it all worked out, how he was going to erase his father’s presence—
    Mr. Granger, however, was not done. Pompously clearing his throat, he said, “If I might continue, there is more, although much of it does not make sense to me.”
    “Of course it does not make sense to you, fool,” Mrs. Stanton cried. “He must have been mad when he died. Look at this will. Only one hundred pounds per annum for me. What am I going to live on?”
    Mr. Granger viewed Mrs. Stanton with distaste. “I will assure you, madam, that I attended to your husband for two years, starting just after the present Lord Stanton—” He motioned to James—“departed. In fact, this will was made just after that event, and when I asked him repeatedly if he wanted to change it, he constantly said no. If I might continue?”
    Mr. Granger opened his fob watch again and inspected the time. James knew that the man had nothing to lose by being terse and rude. With no control over the estate, Mr. Granger assumed that the Stanton family was well on the way to bankruptcy.
    The lawyer cleared his throat. “The bulk of the estate, and ownership of the stone mine, I leave to the Friendly Society of Ottery St Mary, unless my so called son James finds and marries Marie Mompesson, the rightful owner of this manor within six months. Then the house and estate will go to him and his heirs.”
    A cold fury shook James. As clear as ever he could hear his father’s voice in the words. Ever since he had been a young boy, it had been the same. Disappointment, coldness, indifference. It was as if his father had wanted any excuse to get rid of him.
    This time his voice did not fail him. He clenched his fists and leaned towards the lawyer. “Tell me, Mr. Granger, who is Marie Mompesson?”
    “Well, Lord Stanton,” said the solicitor, edging away slightly, “it would appear that she is the granddaughter of the man from whom your grandfather won Brambridge Manor in a game of vingt-et-un.” At James’ glare, Mr. Granger sped up his delivery. “Your grandfather ousted the family, and moved his family, including your father, into the manor.” The solicitor sucked in a breath and slumped.
    The news wasn’t a surprise to James. It sounded like something his father or grandfather would have done. He drew in a breath.
    “And where exactly is she now, the Mompesson girl?”
    “No one knows. The family was not seen again when they left the manor.” Again, the solicitor opened his watch. “If you will excuse me, I am afraid Lord Stanton's delay has made me late for dinner with my acquaintances.” Taking out a