A Principle of Honour

Chapter 7

After an hour of worrying about the whereabouts of her sister, Verity, at last, heard the front door open.

'Verity,' her sister said brightly, 'how was your afternoon?'

'You are late,' was the testy reply, 'where have you been? I have been worried about you.'

'I told you this morning, V. I was going to visit friends,' her sister replied dismissively. 'How was your afternoon?' she then said in a friendly tone, 'did you go out?'

'Only for a walk,' Verity said, looking at her sister carefully, 'there's no need to ask if you enjoyed yourself. You look positively radiant. The Autumn air, even with all that drizzle, must suit your complexion.'

'Really,' she said with a sigh as she swished her skirt, 'do I look "positively radiant."'

There was something about Cassie's demeanour that bothered Verity. It was not just the added colour in her cheeks that could have been explained by the bracing weather, and it was not the bright way that she had answered her questions. No, there was something else, and Verity could not put her finger on what it was.

After scrutinising Cassie, Verity said. 'Cassie, is there something different about your hair? It does not look like it is in the same style as it was this morning.'

Cassie took off her cloak and patted the back of her chignon. 'Oh that,' she said dismissively, 'I got my hair caught in a bramble and had to redo it without all the clips. I lost some of them in the hedge.'

'Oh!' Verity said, still looking at her sister suspiciously, 'and your dress is rather dusty. Where have you been?'

Verity could have sworn that she saw her sister blush, 'I...' Cassie said hesitatingly. She then looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. 'I was helping Millie Taylor, you know the vicar's daughter, tidy up her father's books in the attic at the vicarage,' she said as she held out her hands to the fire. 'They were, of course, incredibly dusty!'

Verity was not convinced that Cassie was telling the truth. There was a smell of wine on her breath, and Verity could also detect a faint smell of smoke that clung to her sister's clothes and hair. 'Have you been drinking wine?' Verity asked suspiciously.

'Mr Taylor gave us both a glass of claret, to help us warm up after we had spent the afternoon, freezing in his attic,' Cassie said, looking at her sister. 'And, before you ask about the smell of smoke on my clothes, he was, as always, smoking that ghastly pipe.'

Cassie then bounded over to her sister and threw her arms around her neck. 'Oh Verity,' she said, with excitement, 'you worry far too much about me. I have told you again and again; my future is secure. You will see, very soon, my dear, dear sister, that everything will work out for the best, and I will get my happy ending.' Cassie released her sister and skipped across the room towards the door, leaving Verity convinced her sister was still concealing the truth. 'Tea?' Cassie said brightly, 'I'm parched.'

Verity nodded, and Cassie left the room.

✽✽✽

James had arrived back at Highfields, just in time to get changed for dinner. As he was riding back, he had been thinking about how he was going to challenge Melrose and retrieve the documents. He already knew that stealing them would not solve Verity's problems. Melrose, once he found them missing, would duplicate them, leaving Verity still beholden to him. In order to extricate her, he would have to find a permanent solution to the problem. A solution that Melrose, clever as he was, would not be able to extricate himself without difficulty.

Usually, dinner at Highfields was one of the more sedate activities at Melrose's house party, but tonight he had arranged a special surprise for his guests, and it was not long until they had turned the meal into a raucous and debauched affair. They were not at all interested in the delicacies provided by the French chef. Instead, they enjoyed the other forms of entertainment that Melrose provided. James, disgusted and ashamed of the behaviour of the others, left the table early. He did not understand why the other men present, most of whom had daughters and granddaughters no older than the girls Melrose provided for their pleasure, did not also leave in disgust. Did it not occur to them that these girls were someone else's daughters? They were not objects to be passed around to play with, and then, when the novelty wore off, discarded.