The Secrets of Wycliffe Manor by Patricia Rice

Author:Patricia Rice
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book View Cafe

Now that the moment had arrived, Clare nervously clenched and unclenched her hands. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, committing to a future she might never see come to fruition. Worse, she must do so in front of men—large, intimidating men. Arnaud and Henri entered the parlor, already arguing heatedly. Why would they listen to a feeble female? Hunt thought she was creating fantasies. Walker. . . scarcely recognized her existence.

She bolstered her courage by reminding herself that others mattered more than her fears.

Betsy was creative and could do better for herself than servant. At the moment, she was bossing around the new maid Henri had brought, a nervous slip of a woman with a sharp nose and thinning hair, who might also have dreams.

Looking lonely, Lavender cuddled her puppy while her companion rocked and knitted. The child was talented and apparently needed to make her own way in the world. Mrs. Ingraham seemed more comfortable in the kitchen with the Gaithers. Did an old woman have dreams?

Meera and Walker arrived late, arguing, as always. For two people who agreed on almost nothing, they seemed to be together a lot. She knew both of them had talents wasted here. Would it be better for them to move on to an uncertain future or remain here?

Why would anyone listen to a timid spinster?

Hunt had poured his own brandy before Betsy arrived and cradled the snifter now, standing by the hearth with his coat undone and his neckcloth loose, looking imperious and just a bit piratical. He didn’t make her shake in her shoes any longer, but her daring did.

Grumbling as always, Mrs. Gaither had produced ratafia so the ladies could partake. Betsy managed to fill the glasses without spilling too much.

“I believe we’re all here, Miss Knightley.” Hunt bowed formally in her direction. “Betsy, we need you to linger as well. Marie, if you will help Mrs. Gaither in the kitchen, Betsy can catch you up later.”

Marie, the new maid, bobbed a curtsy and departed. Betsy hovered near the exit. Everyone else took seats, except Oliver, who sat on the floor with a book. Heads swiveled back and forth expectantly. Hunt nodded at Clare to begin.

She grimaced and gathered her limited courage. “I am not very good at speaking. This seemed much simpler when I explained it to the captain earlier. But, I think, the simplest place to start is that we have this enormous manor no one seems to want. Yet it provides a haven for those who occasionally have need of it.”

A head or two bobbed but no one seemed eager to leap in.

She took a deep breath and tried again. “The manor might possibly be sold for some low sum as a hunting lodge, and the funds distributed to whatever heirs are found. But that would mean the people like Betsy who live here will eventually have to leave their homes for the city. And it just seemed to me. . .”

She saw no way to say it except bluntly.

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