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Edwin watched his young employee leave the room. He felt a certain fondness for the young Whitby. He was intelligent but not overbearing, scrupulously polite but not in any way servile. Given the chance, he would have made a fine officer. Surely the army could have found some way to put him into uniform and spare him the embarrassment of being in civvies while the rest of the world was in battle dress.
Behind the thick-rimmed glasses, Whitby’s gray eyes were honest and his gaze unflinching. The boy could go far. He amended the thought with a little shake of his head. Unfortunately, the boy was already going far. If office gossip as reported by Miss Clark was to be believed, Toby Whitby would soon be on his way to Rhodesia.
Edwin looked around at the late Earl’s study. How many estate managers, foremen, and gamekeepers had stood in this room, cap in hand, waiting for orders from their master? Had any of them raised their eyes from the carpet and looked around at the moth-eaten curtains, the worm-infested paneling, or the cracked windows? Did they know that their world was crumbling around them? Did they even care? Mr. Whitby had the right idea. Move on while he could. Make a fresh start away from the weight of tradition and the habit of servility.
But here was Mr. Harry Harrigan of Chicago, ready and willing to throw his millions of dollars into shoring up Southwold’s outdated lifestyle. And Mrs. Blanche Harrigan, a sweet-faced, uncomplicated woman, beaming in delight at the idea of her son’s child receiving an invitation to the coronation of the Queen of England. Not a thought in her head beyond finding a dress for the little girl to wear for the Earl’s funeral.
Edwin wished that he could share in Mrs. Harrigan’s certainty, but it was no longer up to him. It was up to young Whitby to ferret out the truth. Edwin would keep his doubts and his memories to himself, and he would wait and see what Whitby made of the situation.
He rose shakily from the chair and walked over to the window. He looked out across the winter landscape of abandoned fields and lowering clouds. His thoughts returned to a day that now seemed long ago; a day when the sky was blue, and hope was rising.