“He’s raking in the money at the expense of poor creatures like me, that’s why,” Francis said. “Do you know he’s doubled the mooring rents, and as for lobsters—he’s created a monopoly. He owns all the best bits of coast around here. If you try to put down a pot, the blighter pinches it.” He stopped, realizing perhaps that it might not be tactful to run down a woman’s husband if he wanted her support. “He probably has no idea, of course. It’s probably his estate manager or someone in his office who is in charge of moorings and licenses.”

“Tony doesn’t have a manager,” Rose said. “He has a secretary and a man who oversees the farm, but that’s about it. And I remember he mentioned those mooring fees. They hadn’t been raised since before the Great War.”

“That’s as may be. But they’ve put chaps like me in a bind,” he said. “Living on a pittance, you know. My mother—your dear mum’s old employer—left everything to my niece here. Everything. Cuts off her son without a penny.”

There was an awkward silence. “That’s not quite fair, Uncle Francis,” Belinda said. “When she sold Trengilly she settled half of it on you.”

“Yes, in a trust, doled out to me like a child’s pocket money,” he said. “Not even enough for a decent Bordeau or a good steak.”

Belinda was still standing, her hand on the back of the sofa. “Uncle Francis,” she said, “I don’t think it’s right to come here and air your grievances in front of strangers. You are making Rose feel quite uncomfortable, and she was nice enough to offer you tea.”

“It’s all right for Rose,” he said. “She’s landed on her feet, hasn’t she? And her mother too. I understand my mother gave her the money to start her own tea shop. If she’d done the same for her only son, I could have set myself up in some kind of business too.”

Nobody spoke. Uncle Francis took a big bite of a chocolate éclair. “Such a treat,” he said. “It’s toast and dripping for a pauper like me.” He stood suddenly. “Well, I can see that I’ve outstayed my welcome. I don’t think I’ll wait around to see if young Tony comes home. Probably not much point. I’ll bid you all adieu. And thanks for the tea, Rose. Quite delicious. Quite up to your mother’s standard. Did you bake the cakes yourself?”

“Of course not,” Rose said. “We have a wonderful cook.” She picked up a bell. “I’ll have someone show you out.”