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When he had gone, she said goodnight to her aunt and sister and went to her room, undressed and tumbled into bed. It had been an eventful and troubling day, but it was over and she had made a start on her big project. She could not have done it without Mark’s help. Those rumours being spread by Bolsover were worrying, too. They could be very damaging especially if it became known that the Cavenhursts were having to economise. As always happened in such cases, every creditor who had been prepared to wait for his money would now be knocking at their door.
Mark had said he would try to find out what lay behind Bolsover’s animosity and she could trust him to do his best, but it was unfair of her to lean on him so heavily. She should be more self-reliant and that meant tackling Lord Bolsover herself. If only she could make him see reason about Teddy’s debts and retract his calumny, they might all live in peace and her father’s money troubles need not be made public. It would have to be the next day because Mark was taking them home the day after. But how to do it? She did not know his lordship’s direction and, even if she did, it was certainly not the thing for an unmarried lady to visit a gentleman in his quarters. He gambled at White’s and probably other clubs, but she certainly could not venture into St James’s.
Before she could decide what to do, she had drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Jane woke next morning very early with the problem still in her mind and it had not been solved by the time Mark arrived with his tilbury. She did not think that she needed a chaperon, but her aunt insisted on one and, as she was far too fat to squeeze into a vehicle meant for two, Bessie was told to accompany her.
Even so, it was a tight fit and Jane found herself so close to Mark, his trouser-clad thigh hard against hers, that she could feel its warmth through her dress. It was so unnerving she could think of nothing else and found herself almost lost for words when Mark spoke to her. When they arrived, he jumped down to hand her out and she pulled herself together to precede him into the building.
Going through the front office, where the juniors worked at their desks, Jane was reminded that her brother had once been a junior here and had left under a cloud. Would that make Mr Halliday less inclined to help her? A clerk conducted them up to the younger Mr Halliday’s office, where Mark was greeted cordially.
‘I have brought Miss Cavenhurst to meet you, Cecil,’ Mark said. ‘She would do some business with you.’
Jane bobbed, shook the outstretched hand and was offered a chair.
‘The Cavenhurst affairs are usually handled by my father,’ the lawyer said as he and Mark also seated themselves. ‘If it is about Mr Cavenhurst...’
‘It is not about Teddy or my father,’ she said. ‘Lord Wyndham will explain.’
As Mark spoke, the lawyer’s initial wariness vanished and he became interested in Jane’s project and readily agreed to set up the trust. ‘Who had you in mind for trustees?’ he asked.
‘Miss Cavenhurst, of course,’ Mark said.
‘It is unusual for an unmarried lady to serve in that way,’ Mr Halliday said.
‘Yes, but it is Miss Cavenhurst’s project, she is its leading light, so I think we should allow it,’ Mark said. ‘But there must be others who are not connected with the family. Would you be one, Cecil? And perhaps we could ask our bank manager.’
* * *
They had gone on to discuss the details and, an hour later, left with everything in hand and without the canvas bag containing the money and jewels. The latter would be auctioned and the proceeds added to the funds and Mr Halliday had undertaken to make the arrangements for that. Mark escorted her out to the carriage and saw her safely in. ‘I have a little business of my own with Mr Halliday, Jane. I won’t be long.’ He went back into the building, leaving Jane sitting beside Bessie.
The street was busy with people hurrying to and fro on the pavement and vehicles of all kinds passing up and down, from gigs to grand carriages, from coster barrows to heavy drays. She was so engrossed in watching a skirmish between a skinny terrier and a spitting ginger cat, she did not see the man who approached the carriage and stopped.
‘We meet again, my dear Miss Cavenhurst.’
She looked round to find Lord Bolsover doffing his hat to her. ‘My lord.’
‘All alone? No stalwart knight to defend you?’
‘Lord Wyndham is with me.’
‘I do not see him.’
‘He has gone back inside for a moment, but I am glad we have met.’
‘How flattering!’
