‘I’ve received a letter from a lawyer in Marazion, who in turn had received one from a lawyer in Portsmouth,’ he began, offering her his arm in a natural movement. ‘I don’t know all the details yet but it seems a sailor uncle of my father’s, Obadiah Drannock, many years ago married a wealthy merchant’s daughter in Portsmouth. Over the years he made a sizeable fortune as a merchant himself in cottons, silks and other fine goods. There was no issue from the marriage and after his wife died he willed his wealth and business interests to my father and his heirs. About a month ago he died an old man, and with my father dead too all of his fortune comes to me.’

Kerensa let out a long soft sigh. ‘I can hardly take it in. Wishing no ill will to your late great-uncle, it’s a pity the money wasn’t available many years ago when you were growing up. And it’s a pity your father didn’t live to enjoy it.’

‘Aye, Father’s been gone nearly a year now,’ Bartholomew said thoughtfully, angling his head for a closer view of a dour sixteenth-century Pengarron who shared a blank expression he’d seen often on his father’s face. ‘Doubt if all the money in the world would have cheered him up though. ’Tis Mother who would have had the benefit. Sir Samuel Pengarron,’ he read the name plate under the imposing picture. ‘Strange…’

Pulling at his arm Kerensa moved him on and said quickly, ‘Will you take advice on how to use the money? You don’t want to waste it or have it stolen or have someone dupe you out of it. I mean, you’re not used to a large amount of money and you don’t know how to run a business. Will you go to Portsmouth? Will you sell your share of the Young Maid? What does Jenifer say about this? Are the children excited? Goodness, I feel so elated. Would you like some tea?’

Her joy was infectious and he laughed heartily. ‘I’ve never heard you go on like this before. Reminded me of Mrs Tregonning. No, I don’t want any tea, thank you, but I think you are in need of some. We’ve seen most of the rooms on this floor, I think we ought to go back down.’

Back in Kerensa’s sitting room, without being asked to Bartholomew rang the tinkling silver bell on the small round table at Kerensa’s side and resumed his seat.

‘I will take advice,’ he said seriously. ‘I thought to ask the Reverend Ivey.’

‘That would be the best idea,’ Kerensa said approvingly.