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increasing by the minute. He glanced at the document, but was not prepared to put his signature to anything at such short notice.
    “I think it only fair to meet the children first. No doubt this… piece of paper will be in order, but I would like to study it in detail.”
    The lawyer had no choice but to agree.
    Charlie entered the room first, tightly clutching his sister’s hand. He was clean, tidy and undoubtedly terrified. It was obvious from his dark brooding eyes, and the way his lower lip jutted beneath his gritted teeth. He was so tense, even his wavy hair occasionally seemed to ripple as he trembled.
    Sophie was everything her prissy aunt was not, and for a moment, Tom wanted to laugh, because she reminded him of a gypsy girl he once saw at a Norcott horse fair. Someone had obviously tried to control her appearance, but no amount of scraping her hair into tight braids would change the picture. The weeks she lived with the gypsies had left their mark, but only time would tell whether the nuns had similarly influenced her.
    Dressed entirely in black from neck to ankles, her podgy little frame and lank dark hair presented an almost repellent picture. Then he thought about the female company to which she was accustomed, and understood why her mouth was sullen.
    He noticed her shifty black eyes flickering from face to face. When her fierce gaze alighted on her uncle, he recoiled. The man’s reaction made Tom pity this strange little girl. Having heard the complaints about Sophie, he could understand Charlie’s anxiety.
    This then, was the little girl who discomfited the family, and harassed the nuns. Without doubt, she was as different to the dainty little girls at Linmore as it was possible to be. He could imagine she might be a rebel, but hardly the devil they accused her of being.
    “Charlie,” his uncle said, “this gentleman is Mr Norbery. He has come from England.”
    The boy’s expression intensified as he extended a rigid hand. “I’m honoured to meet you, sir,” he said, and promptly turned aside as his sister tugged at his sleeve.
    Tom felt the scrutiny of those dark eyes as the little girl stepped forward. She looked from him to her uncle and back again. Then she shrugged her shoulders and nodded. He wondered if it meant he met with her approval.
    Having made her assessment, Sophie wandered over to the window, climbed on a chair and surveyed the waiting coach. Her brother did not take his eyes off her until she returned to his side.
    The girl glanced at her uncle and yawned. She did not say a word, but Charlie seemed to understand her meaning.
    “Sophie wants to know if we are going with you today, sir.”
    “That is yet to be decided,” Tom said. “There are matters I have to discuss with your uncle first.”
    “We’ll be ready when you are, sir. Come on, Sophie, you’ll have to get your coat.” The boy’s eagerness to leave surprised him.
    The children did not wait for permission. They dashed from the room and Tom heard their footsteps clattering up the staircase. He looked from Lucius Cobarne to the pathetic piece of paper in his hand. It was in legalese, but he understood enough to know it held no surprises.
    One thing was evident. The financial responsibility was his, and on his acceptance, the children would likewise be in his care, subject only to the addition of Jane’s name on the document.
    He felt an overwhelming sense of disgust against Cobarne for abdicating his duty to his dead brother’s children. Cold logic told him that he should make the man wait for his signature – but in his heart, Tom knew he was committed, irrespective of the repercussions.
    Selecting a quill from the desk, he dipped it in the inkwell and scribed his name with a flourish,
Thomas Norbery, Esquire.
Then he added,
Representing Miss Jane Littlemore, Linmore Hall, England.
    The lawyer looked bemused as he received the paper.
    “I presume that was what you intended, Cobarne?” Tom felt he had regained