Five pounds! Five! Hervey stiffened on the bench, aware that all the servants were watching him, and he felt the agony of insignificance, of virtue unrewarded, of hatred for Matthew Slythe. Five pounds! It turned out to be the same sum that went to Tobias Horsnell and some of the other servants. Five pounds!

Blood was unaware of the seething indignation to his left. “To my beloved children, Samuel and Dorcas Scammell, go those properties described in the marriage settlement.”

Scammell grunted in satisfaction and nudged Campion beside him on the bench. The truth was slow to dawn on her. The marriage settlement? It was part of her father’s will, so that his death had solved nothing. She began to feel the despair of the last few weeks return. Even from the grave Matthew Slythe would control her.

Werlatton Hall, its farms, fields, and all the tenancies attached, went, as expected, to Ebenezer. Her brother did not move as he listened to the wealth shower on him, except to smile at Scammell when the will dictated that Brother Samuel Scammell would administer the wide estate until Ebenezer was of age. If Ebenezer should die without issue, then the Werlatton properties passed intact to Samuel Scammell.

There was little more to the will, except a homily on righteousness that Isaac Blood read tonelessly. It was Matthew Slythe’s last sermon in this hall. Campion did not listen. One thing only was clear to her; that she was a chattel, disposed of in her father’s will, bequeathed to Samuel Scammell.

The sermon over, Isaac Blood folded the stiff papers and looked at the servants. “It was Matthew Slythe’s wish that you all continue in service here. I assume that is your wish too?” He asked the question of Scammell, who smiled, nodded, and made a vague gesture of welcome toward the benches.

“Good, good.” Blood sipped his malmsey. “And now I would ask the immediate family to stay here alone.” He indicated Scammell, Ebenezer and Dorcas who waited on their bench as the servants filed obediently from the room. Faithful Unto Death, unhappy to be lumped with the household servants, hovered expectantly, but Isaac Blood chivvied him politely from the room. The lawyer closed the door and turned back to the family. “Your father’s will had one more instruction. If you will be so good as to wait.” He went back to the lectern and laboriously unfolded the papers again. “Ah! Here it is.”

He cleared his throat, sipped some wine and held the paper up to his bloodless face. “I was instructed to read this to you in private, and I shall now do so. ‘My duty to the Covenant is discharged by appointing Samuel Scammell, my son-in-law, to be the holder of the seal in my possession. Should he die before my daughter has reached the age of twenty-five, then the guardianship of the seal will pass to my son, Ebenezer, who will, I know, obey the terms of the Covenant.’” Isaac Blood glanced sternly at Campion, then looked back at the paper. “‘Should my daughter, Dorcas, die before her twenty-fifth year and leave no issue, then whoever is the holder of the seal will direct that the monies of the Covenant be used for the spreading of the Gospel to the unenlightened.’ There, I’ve read it now.” Blood looked at Scammell. “You understand, Mr. Scammell?”