Page 29 of A Debt Inherited

The door opened. Mrs Muir entered with the morning post upon a salver. Her eyes touched the child, then the folded newspaper.

“My lady.”

“Set it there.”

“There is a letter from Lord Ashby’s Edinburgh agent.”

Lady Isobel held Alexander closer. “Leave it.”

Mrs Muir obeyed and withdrew.

Lady Isobel broke the wax.

My lady,

I am instructed by the Earl of Ashby to advise that, from Michaelmas next, the sum of four hundred pounds per annum shall be allowed for the maintenance, education, and proper advancement of Master Alexander Kerr, payable quarterly through this office, and to continue during the minority of Lord Ashby’s son and heir.

The arrangement is made without prejudice to any existing Kerr settlement and without admission of claim upon the entailed lands of Glenbride.

I remain, my lady,

Your obedient servant,

Andrew Fenton

Lady Isobel read the final words again.

Without admission of claim.

Alexander leant closer. “What does it say?”

She folded the letter once, very carefully. “It says Lord Ashby means to pay for your schooling.”

“Must I go away?”

“Not yet.”

“When?”

“When I say.”

Lady Isobel set the letter beside the newspaper.

Alexander reclaimed his seat.

She reached for the honey. “You may have another piece.”

Chapter 13

Royal Hospital, Chelsea, April 1788

The infirmary ward had been washed at dawn; the boards smelt of soap and linseed, and the long windows kept a pale light as if London mist had been pressed flat against the panes. A small fire worked without display in the narrow grate. Upon the chair beside Bennet’s bed lay a neat stack of volumes—Cicero’s Orations in calf, Plutarch’s Lives sunned at the spine, Cowper’s The Task with its paper slips for marking, and above them Clarendon’s History and a battered copy of The Spectator. The leather had grown warm by the fender; when Hill lifted the topmost book to make room for the day’s paper, the covers left a faint square upon the chair seat.

Hill sat, hat on his knee, the Morning Chronicle shaken out with care lest the rustle disturb other men. “There is a notice, sir,” he said, his voice kept low for the ward’s sake. “If you please—here.”

He pointed with a forefinger. Bennet saw the column before he heard the words: narrow lines, justified, a small regiment of letters marching without fuss. The smell of the ink was new enough to be clean.

“We are informed that Captain Thomas Bennet, lately returned invalid from Barbados, distinguished himself at the Bridgetown Arsenal in the great storm of July last by preventing the destruction of the magazine and preserving the town from grievous loss. His conduct being reported in official dispatches, His Majesty has been pleased to signify his approbation; a silver medal is ordered in testimony.”