‘Oh!’ Madeline stared at her. ‘Does the family own an estate near here? I had not realised.’
‘It is not the family estate—for that is nearer Hampshire, so Bertie tells me—but the house and land in Fenstanton came to the major through his mother. It is not a large place, but a pleasant family house and some acres of land.’
‘I did not know.’ She bit her lip. ‘Does Hal come down often?’
‘He was here a few weeks back, just before his cousin Captain Miller was married. He was talking to my Bertie about the possibility of selling the place. His father’s estate is mortgaged to the hilt and he thought selling Highgroves Hall might help pay the debts.’
‘Oh, I see. Has it been sold yet?’
‘No, for my Bertie advised him against letting it go. He thinks the major would be better off selling his father’s property and settling here. It’s good fertile land and the house is sound. Only needs a spring clean to make it a lovely family home... It’s about the same size as this house and Bertie said he would buy it if he had a son, but we’ve no children yet and it looks as if we shall not.’
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ Madeline said. ‘I know what a sadness that is. I felt I could have borne my marriage more easily had I had a child.’
‘You are still young,’ Hattie said. ‘We married late, but Bertie has a nephew who will inherit this place. He is still considering buying Highgroves, but isn’t sure whether it would be of use to him, because it is a bit too far from us to make it viable. Besides, the major said he would consider taking Bertie’s advice and keeping it rather than his late father’s estate.’
‘Then perhaps he will come again soon,’ Madeline said, praying that he was still alive. If he came down to visit his mother’s estate, he might learn where she was staying and then surely he would call on her? Even if he no longer wished to marry her, he might know someone who would give her a position as a companion or a seamstress. She desperately wanted to see him again to know that he was alive and unharmed.
‘I’ll leave you to tidy yourself,’ Hattie said. ‘The kettle will be boiling so come down when you’re ready.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Left to tidy herself, Madeline sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the softness of a feather mattress. She could be quite content here for the rest of her life, she thought, if only she had enough money to pay her way. Perhaps she could find some work that would be sufficient to pay for her board and lodgings.
She went to the dressing mirror and patted her hair. She did not intend to waste her time moping. She was safe and free of both her husband and the marquis for the moment. Until she could make contact with Hal she must make the most of her circumstances...if only he were still alive.
* * *
It came to Hallam as he was on his way to the club to speak with Jack Mainwaring. The innkeeper had mentioned East Anglia. Madeline had told him something once about her former governess. A Mrs Hattie...what was the woman’s married name? He could not recall it or be certain that Madeline had ever used it in his hearing, but he did know that her husband had a farm somewhere in Cambridgeshire.
He knew most of the farmers in the area reasonably well. Since his mother’s death he had employed a manager to look after the land and the house. He’d been down only a few weeks before Adam’s wedding, wanting to see the house again before deciding whether to sell and pay off his father’s debts, or at least some of them—or to sell what remained of his father’s estate.
Hal’s mother had come from a wealthy country family, and as Hal’s roots were set firmly in a country way of life, he thought he would be satisfied to settle for the life of a well-to-do farmer. His Uncle Philip lived in Norfolk and had a large and fine estate, but while Hallam was in France, he’d learned that his uncle had lost both his wife and daughter to a virulent fever. He had other nephews on his wife’s side, but no surviving children of his own. Hal had written to him concerning his sad loss, but his uncle had not replied, and he’d felt some reluctance to intrude on his grief.
He would go down to Cambridgeshire, Hal decided. If Thomas Hobbis came looking for him, he would leave his direction, and in the meantime he would employ an agent to help him search for Madeline.
She must be somewhere and in her position she would most likely seek refuge with someone she trusted. Mrs Hattie... If only she’d told him her former governess’s married name!
Hal’s determination hardened. He would not sit in London twiddling his thumbs, but go down to Cambridgeshire and ask a few people he was acquainted with if they had heard of the lady. At least he knew that her name had been Miss Hester Goodjohn before she was wed. Someone would surely know of her.
On his way to his mother’s estate, he would take a detour and speak to Madeline’s father. It was time that he was made aware of what an evil man his former son-in-law had been.
* * *
‘I should return the chaise,’ Thomas said when they had been living at the farm for three days. ‘My brother may have need of it—and he may have news for us by now.’
‘You will go again to Major Ravenscar’s lodgings?’
‘Yes, of course, my lady,’ Thomas said. ‘I shall discover what I can and return as soon as is humanly possible.’
‘We shall miss you,’ Sally said. ‘You will not be too long, Thomas?’
‘Never fear, I shall not desert you,’ he said. ‘When I return I shall look for an inn I may purchase, where we may all live in comfort, if my lady will deign to come with us.’
‘I cannot leave her while she needs me,’ Sally said, though a look of longing was in her eyes.
Thomas reached for her hand and held it. ‘Her ladyship does well enough here, but I pray that when I return I shall have news that will bring her much happiness—and then she will not need you so much.’
Sally watched as he mounted his horse and rode away, then went back to the large kitchen. She noticed the muddy footprints on the floor she’d scrubbed that morning and sighed, thinking that life in a farmhouse would not suit her for long. Despite Hattie’s kindness, Sally would feel happier in a nice little inn with the man she loved—but she could not and would not desert her mistress.
‘Had I known what kind of a man Lethbridge was I should not have allowed the marriage,’ Sir Matthew said. ‘I would rather have faced ruin than had my poor daughter suffer such cruelty.’
‘You could not have known to what depths he would sink,’ Hallam said as he prepared to take his leave. ‘You say that you believe Maddie’s former governess to live in Cambridgeshire on a farm, but you do not know her married name?’
‘Forgive me, I would tell you if I could. I should have paid more attention, but I had much on my mind at the time,’ Sir Matthew said. ‘We must find Madeline, for now that Lethbridge is dead she is entitled to her endowment and the money her grandfather left her—and certainly her jewels and clothes belong to her. Alone and with no money, I dread to think what may become of her.’
‘She is not entirely alone for she has friends,’ Hallam said. His expression did not alter, but he detected a degree of enthusiasm in Sir Matthew at the thought of the money his daughter might inherit, and fought to keep any sign of censure from his tone as he said, ‘It is my intention to find her, sir. I shall not cease to look until I find her.’
‘And