“Life is hard, Uncle Francis,” Belinda said. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to get used to it. And we must be going. So out with you, please.” She gave him a shove and moved to open the front door. When we were all outside she turned the key in the lock.

“You are an ungrateful, heartless wench, you know that,” he said. “One day you’ll regret this.” And he stomped down the stone steps cut into the cliff face toward his boat.

I began the climb up to the motorcar. Belinda followed. Neither of us spoke until we had regained the road.

“Oh dear,” she said, panting a little because there were a lot of steps. “I feel awful. Do you think I should let him have the cottage? I mean, I did inherit everything and he’s living on a boat.”

“You just said that he squandered his money. And he fondled you when you were a child.”

“Yes, but he is family. And I don’t really need the cottage, do I?”

“It’s up to you, Belinda. But I don’t think you owe him anything.”

We climbed into the motor, and Belinda started the engine. “You’re right. I’m too softhearted. And I’m sure if he had this place he’d use it for his nefarious schemes.”

As we drove along the headland we watched the boat putting out to sea. Against the backdrop of the Atlantic it did look awfully small.

Chapter 11

OCTOBER 16

TREWOMA, CORNWALL

Back at Trewoma after a rather unpleasant encounter at White Sails. Golly, I hope this evening is not going to be too tense.

We returned to find my belongings unpacked, my toiletries arranged on the dressing table and my slippers beside the bed, just like Jonquil’s had been in her room. I got the feeling that Mrs. Mannering had supervised and presumably snooped at what I had brought with me. She wouldn’t get much joy from my things, except for the photo of Darcy and me on our honeymoon.

We came downstairs and after a couple of wrong turns that led to the kitchens and then the library we were rescued by a maid who informed us that the mistress was taking tea in the long gallery and escorted us there. It really was a most confusing house! Rose was sitting in a room that must have been the original hall in medieval times where family life went on. It was a vast room overlooking the ocean with heavy tapestries of battles hanging on the walls and dark velvet curtains at the windows. On one side was a minstrel gallery and in the middle was a hearth big enough to roast an ox. Not what I would call a friendly room.