turn my head. I only hope that I find something nefarious about him soon, George, because I find myself in danger of liking the scoundrel. He can be rather...intoxicating at times.’
Hannah still could not stop thinking about the kiss. Even here, at her brother’s grave, she had to concentrate hard to avoid revisiting the way it had made her feel.
After carefully standing, she tipped all the weeds over the wall out onto the meadow. As an afterthought she wandered back to her parents’ graves and stood for a moment contemplating them. It seemed to be the respectable thing to do, although she had very little memory of her mother. She had died while Hannah was very young.
Her father had passed away when she was twelve. She recalled him as an aloof and self-indulgent man. Like George, he had set great store in his own comforts and pleasures, and had paid little attention to his only daughter. After her mother’s death he’d hardly spent any time at Barchester Hall, preferring the entertainments of town, so with George away at school, and then later at university, Hannah had grown up virtually alone. Alone save for Cook, who had been the one constant in a sea of ever-changing servants and governesses.
It was no wonder she had been so bowled over by the first man who had courted her—right up until the moment he had cruelly cast her aside in that ballroom.
Hannah felt fresh tears threaten and turned back towards the grave again. ‘What I don’t understand, George, is why you never sent for me. When I was bundled off to the middle of nowhere you promised me that it was only temporary. You promised me that you would sort it all out and restore my reputation. Why would you not let me come home? I wrote to you time and time again, begging you to let me, and you never replied. Did you actually believe all the lies he told you? Did you think that I deserved to be jilted?’
* * *
Ross could not work out exactly what she was doing, but found the image of her tending the Runcorn family graves to be a little odd. He watched her from a distance for a little while, until curiosity got the better of him and he bounded over to the little plot.
‘Hello, Prim,’ he said, and watched her jump out of her skin.
‘Hello, Mr Jameson,’ she replied, a little too wide-eyed for his liking. ‘It is a fine evening for a walk.’
‘Yes, it is,’ he responded cheerfully. ‘What are you doing?’
She blinked, and licked her pretty pink lips nervously before answering. ‘I saw that this little graveyard was in dire need of some care and decided to tidy it up. I think that it is important to be respectful of the dead. Don’t you?’
Ross glanced at the headstones and then back at her face, so that he could gauge her reaction. ‘This must be the Runcorn family plot.’
‘Is that the family who lived here before?’ she asked, with just the right amount of uninterest, so that he was almost convinced that she was unaware of that fact.
‘Yes, it is.’ He pointed to the newest stone. ‘I won this house from the last Earl of Runcorn in a card game.’
She did not look surprised by this statement, but her face was just a little too blank. Such information should at least cause her to raise an eyebrow.
Instead she stared at him levelly. ‘I read about that in the newspapers. He died shortly afterwards, did he not?’
‘Come now, Prim. If you read about it in the newspapers then you already know that he blew his own brains out.’
He detected the smallest of winces at that, but she covered it quickly.
‘Perhaps he felt he had no other choice,’ she said after a beat of silence. ‘He must have been quite desperate to do such a thing.’
‘I think he was actually being quite selfish. He had just gambled away his house. His fortune was already long gone. Suicide gave him a way of not having to explain all that to his family. He should have avoided being so reckless with the only thing he had left.’
Hannah could not argue
Hannah still could not stop thinking about the kiss. Even here, at her brother’s grave, she had to concentrate hard to avoid revisiting the way it had made her feel.
After carefully standing, she tipped all the weeds over the wall out onto the meadow. As an afterthought she wandered back to her parents’ graves and stood for a moment contemplating them. It seemed to be the respectable thing to do, although she had very little memory of her mother. She had died while Hannah was very young.
Her father had passed away when she was twelve. She recalled him as an aloof and self-indulgent man. Like George, he had set great store in his own comforts and pleasures, and had paid little attention to his only daughter. After her mother’s death he’d hardly spent any time at Barchester Hall, preferring the entertainments of town, so with George away at school, and then later at university, Hannah had grown up virtually alone. Alone save for Cook, who had been the one constant in a sea of ever-changing servants and governesses.
It was no wonder she had been so bowled over by the first man who had courted her—right up until the moment he had cruelly cast her aside in that ballroom.
Hannah felt fresh tears threaten and turned back towards the grave again. ‘What I don’t understand, George, is why you never sent for me. When I was bundled off to the middle of nowhere you promised me that it was only temporary. You promised me that you would sort it all out and restore my reputation. Why would you not let me come home? I wrote to you time and time again, begging you to let me, and you never replied. Did you actually believe all the lies he told you? Did you think that I deserved to be jilted?’
* * *
Ross could not work out exactly what she was doing, but found the image of her tending the Runcorn family graves to be a little odd. He watched her from a distance for a little while, until curiosity got the better of him and he bounded over to the little plot.
‘Hello, Prim,’ he said, and watched her jump out of her skin.
‘Hello, Mr Jameson,’ she replied, a little too wide-eyed for his liking. ‘It is a fine evening for a walk.’
‘Yes, it is,’ he responded cheerfully. ‘What are you doing?’
She blinked, and licked her pretty pink lips nervously before answering. ‘I saw that this little graveyard was in dire need of some care and decided to tidy it up. I think that it is important to be respectful of the dead. Don’t you?’
Ross glanced at the headstones and then back at her face, so that he could gauge her reaction. ‘This must be the Runcorn family plot.’
‘Is that the family who lived here before?’ she asked, with just the right amount of uninterest, so that he was almost convinced that she was unaware of that fact.
‘Yes, it is.’ He pointed to the newest stone. ‘I won this house from the last Earl of Runcorn in a card game.’
She did not look surprised by this statement, but her face was just a little too blank. Such information should at least cause her to raise an eyebrow.
Instead she stared at him levelly. ‘I read about that in the newspapers. He died shortly afterwards, did he not?’
‘Come now, Prim. If you read about it in the newspapers then you already know that he blew his own brains out.’
He detected the smallest of winces at that, but she covered it quickly.
‘Perhaps he felt he had no other choice,’ she said after a beat of silence. ‘He must have been quite desperate to do such a thing.’
‘I think he was actually being quite selfish. He had just gambled away his house. His fortune was already long gone. Suicide gave him a way of not having to explain all that to his family. He should have avoided being so reckless with the only thing he had left.’
Hannah could not argue
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