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“Why did she change the will?”
“Because she finally recognized that Phineas is a despicable profligate,” she replied. “Now do you see what is at stake for me?”
“Once the gossips get wind of this, you will be hounded by fortune hunters,” Augusta said.
“Precisely, which is why I do not intend to tell anyone other than you.”
Augusta nodded her head in understanding. “I will not betray your confidence.”
“Thank you,” Daphne replied. “That means a great deal to me.”
The clearing of a throat could be heard behind her, and Daphne turned to see Mr. Huxley standing in the doorway. “I was worried about you, and have come to see if you require any assistance.”
“I do not,” she replied.
Mr. Huxley tipped his head. “Then my presence is not needed here.” He turned and disappeared back into the dining room.
Daphne turned back towards Augusta and asked, “Do you think Mr. Huxley overheard our conversation?”
“I do not believe so,” Augusta responded.
“I’m glad because I have no desire to take Mr. Huxley into my confidence.”
Augusta looped her arm through Daphne’s. “Come,” she encouraged. “Eliza would be furious if we miss all the toasts in her honor.”
“You mean ‘in their honor’.”
“I stand by my statement,” Augusta joked.
Guy exited thecoach and stared up at the thatch-roofed coaching inn. He had been on the road for many hours and was anxious to begin his assignment. He walked towards the door and opened it.
He stepped inside the crowded hall, where men sat at tables running the length of the room, loudly talking as two serving women brought them drinks.
A tall, portly man approached Guy with his hands out wide in a welcoming fashion. “How can I help ye, Mister?”
“I am looking for a room for myself, as well as one for my driver and footman.”
The man nodded. “I can help ye with that,” he replied. “My name is Angus Croke, and I am the owner of this fine establishment.” He walked over to a table and opened a book. “Are ye just passing through, or are ye staying in Anmore?”
“I will be staying here for a few days.”
“Very good,” Mr. Croke said, looking down at the book. “We do have two rooms available, and I hope ye find them to yer liking.”
“I am sure that will be the case.”
Mr. Croke wrote something down in the book. “Do ye require yer trunks to be brought in?”
“My men will see to that.”
“Understood, Mister.” Mr. Croke snapped his fingers and a young boy appeared at his side. “Will ye show Mr.…” He paused. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch yer name.”
“Stewart,” Guy replied.
Mr. Croke tipped his head in acknowledgement as he extended a key towards the boy. “Will ye show Mr. Stewart to room three?”
“I will,” the boy replied. “Follow me, Mister.”
As he followed the young boy up the stairs running along the back wall, Guy asked, “How old are you?”
