An Indecent Gambit

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Ends of the Earth

While James was returning the necklace to Mr Schiaparelli, Grace was pacing the floor of her mother's sitting room, strangely discontent. Alice and Emma were playing pell-mell outside in the drizzle. Uncle Bernard had gone to London for the day to attend to business. The house was quiet and peaceful. Yet she was not at peace.

She tried to read a book, found she could not concentrate, and gave up. Tried to mend some shifts, found she was bored, and stopped. The sound of laughter and thwacking mallets came floating through the window, disturbing her thoughts. She was not sure it was proper to play pell-mell in mourning. Had Mother said it was alright? Did she even know?

Listlessly, Grace trailed around the house looking for her mother. She found her in the study, hunched over a pile of papers at Mr Follet's desk. Mrs Follet was so absorbed in her task that she did not even hear Grace come in.

"Mother?"

Mrs Follet jumped and looked up. "Oh! Yes, dear?"

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes strangely bright. Grace had never seen her mother cry before, and at first was too confused and embarrassed to know what to say.

"Are you... crying?"

"No. Not really." Mrs Follet rubbed her face. "I'm fine, dearest."

"I can tell you're crying." Grace came closer and leaned over the desk. "What is it?" She flicked through the papers. "Letters about houses?"

"Yes, and I'm afraid I just don't know what to do." Mrs Follet's voice shook. "Your father used to make all the decisions for us. I never had to do this kind of thing."

Grace could think of nothing to say and, awkwardly, patted her mother's hand.

"Uncle Bernard tries to help," Mrs Follet said. "He went through all the sums with me, to find what I could afford. And he gives me very good advice. But I just don't think... I'm just not quite sure he understands how I feel."

"All of his advice is to suit his own purposes."

"Your uncle is a good man, Grace."

"He may be a good man, but he will not baulk to take this house and send us all away."

"As is his right, dear. No, I must be grateful to him. He has recommended me a cottage in Kent, which he says a friend of his will let at a good price." She gave Grace a faint smile. "He says it is near the sea. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Kent. That's the other side of London. How far would we be from everyone we know?"

Mrs Follet faltered. "I think it must be some thirty or forty miles. A great distance, to be sure, but I think James could make it in a day."

"I was not thinking of James." Would he really come so far only to be sent away? She shook her head. "I don't understand why Uncle Bernard gets the house. Father could have left it to you. It is not a grand estate, but it is our home."

"I wouldn't know what to do with it, Grace."

"You've been doing it for thirty years."

Mrs Follet was quiet for a long moment. "It does not matter. Your father didn't leave it to me."

"But why not?"

"He was not that sort of man. He believed that women and men moved in different spheres. Managing property is outside a woman's sphere."

"But he wasn't..." Grace bit her tongue. "He could not have thought what would happen, he could not have imagined he would die."

"I believe he thought that it was wisest to leave it to his brother," Mrs Follet said gently. "And really, Grace, I don't mind. I trust Bernard to help us. This house in Kent is within my means. It has an orchard. I'm sure... I'm sure if Uncle Bernard says it is good, it must be."