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brother’s children go to a good home.”
    The hypocrisy was more than Norbery of Linmore could tolerate. He looked down from his superior height and said, “If you expected Miss Littlemore to supply references, sir, you should have made it clear when you instigated this matter.”
    He had not intended saying anything about his political connections, but this was too much. “I trust my word as a gentleman and member of the English Parliament will be sufficient to convince you that I have the means to provide for their comfort. They will become part of my family, and be educated with my children.”
    The woman sat rigid in her seat, but the man was clearly labouring under some deep emotion. Maybe it was guilt.
    “Mr Norbery,” he said. “When my brother, Fergus, was killed three years ago, we took his children into our home. We do not have any family of our own, but my wife and I tried to give them the care they required. I think we succeeded with the boy. Charlie is intelligent and obedient. Sophie, his sister, is wilful, and does not take kindly to instruction. We were forced to send her to a convent several miles away to be educated by the nuns, but I regret to say she caused considerable disruption.”
    Tom waited to hear the magnitude of the little girl’s crime.
    “She ran away, repeatedly. Climbed over the garden walls and disappeared for weeks at a time.” The man’s face was puce with the effort of containing his agitation. “They found her up in the hills, living with gypsies – not once, but several times.”
    So that was the reason for the abandonment. Sophie caused embarrassment.
    Mrs Cobarne interrupted in a voice trembling with indignation.
    “We were mortified when the nuns said she must leave. It meant everyone in the district knew my husband’s niece was possessed of a devil.”
    “A devil, ma’am…?” Tom turned his attention to the woman. He had never favoured the use of a quizzing glass to imply disdain, but was sorely tempted now. “Surely, she is but a child, of… how many years?”
    “Eight years,” Cobarne said, almost in tears. “My wife mistakes the matter, sir. My late brother was full of devilment as a boy, but he learned discipline in the army. The girl has some of his nature in her.”
    Tom viewed the man with disbelief.
    “As his daughter, it would be surprising if she did not. Maybe she needs the company of other children. She will have the opportunity at Linmore. I have three of my own and the two daughters of my late brother in my care. Joshua, my younger son, is Charlie’s age, and the little girls are of a similar age to Sophie.”
    The man nodded. “If you would care to come to my book room, Mr Norbery, I would like to discuss the business arrangements of the transfer.”
    Obviously, that meant financial matters.
    When the library door closed, Lucius Cobarne said, “I am loath to admit this to a stranger, Mr Norbery, but my brother, Fergus, was improvident with money. I do not know how he and his wife managed their finances whilst they were alive, but when she passed away, I believe my brother went mad with grief. He doted on the children, but made no provision for their future. In truth, they have nothing to look forward to, other than what I choose to leave them.”
    He shuffled some papers on his desk. “Business is difficult at present, but in the future, I hope there may be some small amount left for them.”
    It was clear the man was more concerned with having to pay for their keep.
    “Mr Cobarne,” said Tom. “Irrespective of what you do, or do not give them, you have my word that I will provide for their future. They will lack for nothing.”
    A look of abject relief spread across the troubled face before him.
    “Good,” the man said. “Would you be prepared to sign a document to that effect? I have one here, if you care to peruse it before you meet the children.”
    Of course, he might have expected a lawyer to think of that. Tom’s antipathy was