A Principle of Honour

Chapter 1

October 1812

'Cassie, I do not like the sound of that storm,' Verity said, looking over her shoulder at the closed wooden shutters that were banging with disturbing regularity.

Miss Verity Stanford, a schoolteacher of four and twenty years, put down the book she was reading and looked at her younger sister, Cassandra. She then added, looking wistfully towards the fire, 'I hope the tiles on the north side do not get blown away. This afternoon, when I last looked, the roof did not look very stable.' Verity stood up and walked over to the window and rattled the catch of the shutters to make sure they were indeed secure. She shivered and wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders as she felt a cold draft creeping through the cracks of the shutters. Once she was satisfied that they would not be flung open by an icy blast of wind, she went back to her chair by the fire.

It had been a month since she had returned to her childhood home, after an absence of just over fourteen years. The once well-kept house, which she had left behind, was now a crumbling wreck. At first, she had been shocked at the state of the neglect, but over the weeks, since arriving back, she had become accustomed to the change.

Verity picked up the novel she had abandoned but found it difficult to concentrate on the story. She put her book down for the second time and said to her sister, 'Cassie, I think I will go and check the windows upstairs. I do not want them blowing open.'

Cassie sighed, 'Verity, you inspected every window in the house less than an hour ago. I can assure you they are all shut, and, before you ask, the front door is firmly bolted.' Cassandra Stanford, Cassie or Cass to her close friends and family, was sitting quietly by the fire mending her rather worn pelisse. 'We have an evening to ourselves, and, may I add, that in itself is a rare treat. In less than two weeks, you will be back at school. And, I have no doubt that at this time of the evening, you will be trying to undo the chaos caused by one of Peggy and Lucy's practical jokes. Last time, you were up half the night trying to untangle Libby's hair.' Cassie put her sewing to one side and reached out to take her sister's hand. Cassie was only just seventeen, but Verity always thought of her as older, because she often displayed a maturity that was beyond her years. 'I do not know why you care so much about this old house. In a few weeks, it will be sold. Then, you will return to school, and I will start my new position as a governess.'

'Of course, you are right,' Verity said, squeezing her sister's hand. 'It is just...' Verity suddenly stopped. She had not been entirely honest with her sister. Cassie knew that Hadlands, their father's estate, had not been prosperous for many years, but Verity had not had the heart to tell her just how bad the situation had become. Since their father's burial, three weeks ago, she had shielded Cassie from the full magnitude of their financial situation. How could she tell her the deed of the house and lands was missing? Unlike Verity, Cassie had loved her father, and she did not want to shatter that affection by destroying his character, however tempting that would be.

Verity had never had a good relationship with her father. When her mother had been alive, he had discouraged her from spending time with her daughter. And when she eventually passed away, giving birth to her third child, their younger brother Reggie, Verity's father had sent the grieving ten-year-old away to school. During the intervening years, up to his death last month, he never once communicated with his eldest child. In fact, she had had no communication with her family until Cassie came and joined her at the school five years ago. Despite the way he had treated her, Verity still felt it was her responsibility to shield her younger siblings from the full extent of their father's mismanagement.

Verity picked up the book, she had discarded earlier and began to read it. But she was finding it difficult to concentrate. The words seemed to dance around the page, making it impossible to keep up with the plot. 'Verity,' her sister said, putting her needlework aside once more, 'I do wish you would confide in me. It is obvious that something is bothering you. You never know, I may be able to help.'