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while” had lasted anywhere from a fortnight to three months, but he had always come back just before the money ran out. Papa seemed to have a knack for knowing when the money was about to run out. Not this time, though. This time they were staring complete and utter ruin in the face, and there was still no sign of her father.
    “I’m sure he’ll be home soon,” she said for her grandmother’s benefit.
    “Of course he will.” Granny put down her tea and turned to stare out the front window, the one that faced the road. “Any day.”
    He’d better, Cressida thought, staring into her tea, now stone cold in the expensive new teacups Papa had ordered when they moved to Marston. Otherwise they were all sunk.
    After tea, when Granny had dozed off in her chair and they had cleared away the tea, Callie followed her to the kitchen. “What was wrong?” she wanted to know, setting down the tray of dirty dishes as Cressida put on her apron. Papa had hired a cook and a pair of maids, but they were all gone now. How fortunate that Cressida and her sister were quite used to having no servants at all. “You just jumped up and ran from the room, and then were gone a quarter hour. Granny remarked on it.”
    “Did she?” Cressida poured out the dregs of the tea from the pot. “What did she say?”
    Callie sighed. “She thought you might have heard Papa approaching. She’s certain he’ll walk through the door at any moment.”
    “If only he would,” she muttered. “I begin to wonder…”
    Her sister went still. “To wonder what?”
    “To doubt,” Cressida admitted. She picked up a teacup and began to wash it. “He’s never been gone this long without some sort of word, not unless there was a war going on. And then we certainly knew where he was.”
    Callie bit her lip and said nothing.
    “I heard a horse,” she said bluntly. “Out behind the house. I thought it might be another creditor, so I went out to see. A man was walking around the stables, and I thought he had come to take the horses.”
    “Cressida, you shouldn’t go out there by yourself! You should send Mr. Webb—”
    “He was busy mending the fence, and there wasn’t time to fetch him. We’ll be even worse off if the sheep get loose. Don’t worry,” she added, seeing Callie’s dismayed expression. “I took Papa’s pistol, just in case.”
    Callie gasped. “You pulled a pistol on him?”
    She flushed. “I didn’t shoot him, if that’s what you’re worried about. Even Granny would have heard that.” The door creaked open, and Tom came in. At the sight of Callie he stopped short, ducking his head in a hasty bow.
    “Mr. Webb, my sister says there was a man on the property, looking at the horses,” Callie said.
    He glanced at Cressida, who kept her eyes on the teacup she was wiping. “There was.”
    “What are we to do?” When no one answered, Callie threw up her hands. “What aren’t you telling me? Did he take the horses? Did he set fire to the stables? What happened?”
    Tom just looked at Cressida, who took her time washing every last crevice of the delicate cup. It would be worth more unchipped, when she had to sell it. “It was our neighbor,” she said.
    Callie looked puzzled. “Which one?”
    “Major Alexander Hayes,” Tom answered for her. Cressida shot him a dark look.
    Callie gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “Oh dear—the dead one?”
    “He’s definitely not dead anymore.” Cressida handed the cup to Callie to dry. “And he was looking for Papa.”
    There was a long moment of silence in the kitchen, broken only by the splash of water as Cressida washed a plate. The three of them were conspirators, keeping the bad news from Granny that Papa was gone and apparently not coming back. Cressida hated to think that, but every day that he was gone was another day of doubt that he would ever come striding back through the door in his exuberant way, roaring with laughter and bearing gifts for them all. Every day that