Jemima Tavistock felt as if her life was unravelling at a rate of knots. Her outing the previous afternoon had been far more difficult than she’d hoped and now Anthony had just dropped his own bombshell of sorts. Apparently, old Lord Tavistock hadn’t been as good with his money as everyone had thought and had left a trail of debts that needed to be paid from the estate. It seemed that the upkeep of Bedford Manor had put a serious drain on the family finances and, coupled with a rather abysmal few years on the stock market, cash was in perilously short supply.

‘What about Chessie’s school?’ Jemima looked at her husband as they crossed the main road into the village. It was such a lovely day that Anthony had insisted they walk to Penberthy Floss for lunch at the local pub. But now she felt like turning around and going straight home again.

‘Darling, I’m sure that we can manage it. We’re not broke yet, but I do need to work out the most prudent way to pay down the debts and whether it might be best to put Bedford Manor up for sale.’

‘You can’t do that!’ Jemima sputtered. ‘It’s your home. It’s been in your family for generations and we were going to raise our family there too.’

‘Living there has been a privilege,’ Anthony said, slipping his hand into hers, ‘but it’s going to continue to cost a fortune to maintain. I don’t want to reach a point where the place is falling down around our ears and we’re sitting in one wretched room in front of a bar heater while the rest of the place is freezing. We’ve also got to think about Mr Prigg and Mrs Mudge.’

Jemima’s face paled. ‘What about them?’

‘We can’t manage the house on our own and my wages won’t cover anywhere near to even a quarter of our expenses,’ Anthony said. There was an uncomfortable silence between them.

‘I know you’ll work things out,’ Jemima said quietly. ‘Surely there’s a way we can keep Bedford Manor and have the life we wanted in the country.’

Anthony nodded. ‘I’ve got some valuers coming tomorrow to go through the house. There might be some things we can sell.’

‘I can tell you some things to get rid of,’ Jemima huffed. ‘Starting with that beady-eyed peacock under the dome.’

Anthony sighed. Poor old Dally wasn’t going to put any sort of dent in the tax bill – that he knew for sure.

The pair walked past the church and rectory, and the recently rebuilt village hall to the pub around the corner. The Rose and Donkey was a pretty building with a red door and painted brick facade. Its white walls were draped with a clematis vine in full flower, like the sweep of a veil on a race-day hat. Anthony led Jemima through the cosy front bar and out into a sun-drenched courtyard filled with families and couples enjoying the glorious day. A young woman showed them to a table in a quiet corner and handed them each a menu.

‘Sunday roast today is pork with crackling, Yorkshire pudding, spring vegetables, baked potatoes and home-made apple sauce. I’ll be back to take your orders soon,’ she trilled, then danced away to another table.

‘I’d forgotten how charming it is back here,’ Anthony said, looking out across the low wall to the green fields beyond. ‘Penberthy Floss is such a quaint village.’

Jemima felt the sun on her cheeks and wished that what he’d said earlier had been a bad dream. But it wasn’t and now they had to devise a plan. It was just that coming on top of everything else, she really felt quite hopeless.

Anthony peered over his wife’s shoulder. ‘Oh, there’s Hugh Kennington-Jones,’ he commented. The man was being guided to an adjacent table with his wife and two girls. Anthony stood up as he and Hugh made eye contact. ‘Hello old boy, long time no see,’ Anthony said, grinning as they shook hands warmly.

Alice-Miranda glided along on her crutches, accompanied by another child with flaming-red hair and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

‘Hello Lord Tavistock.’ Alice-Miranda beamed up at him, then looked over at Jemima, who had jumped to her feet. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, Lady Tavistock. This is my friend Millie.’

The woman smiled tentatively. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Millie.’

‘Goodness, that looks nasty,’ Anthony said, motioning to Alice-Miranda’s leg.

‘I’m fine. Just a little riding accident,’ the child replied cheerfully. It was true; she felt better every day and was pleased when her father had suggested they lunch out in spite of the fact that she knew both her parents were still worrying about the case.

‘Oh, what a pity Chessie isn’t here,’ Anthony said.

‘Yes,’ Jemima said quickly. ‘But she’s having a lovely time with her grandmother.’

Alice-Miranda frowned. She wondered why Jemima hadn’t mentioned that on Friday.

‘Darling, I don’t believe you’ve met Hugh yet,’ Anthony said, and swiftly introduced the pair.

Hugh shook Jemima’s hand, then leaned forward and kissed each of her cheeks. ‘We’ve been looking forward to having permanent neighbours again. Your father-in-law wasn’t about much in the past few years.’

Cecelia kissed Anthony, then turned to Jemima. ‘Fancy seeing you again so soon,’ she said. ‘It’s very fortuitous as I wanted to ask whether you’d like to come along to the garden party. It’s on next weekend and I realised after we’d left yesterday that it would be the most wonderful introduction to the village. This year we’re relaunching the Paper Moon charity for the children’s hospitals.’

Jemima inhaled sharply.

‘It was such a pity about that dreadful man who ran off with all the money. What was his name, Hugh?’ Cecelia looked to her husband.

‘Berwick,’ Hugh said disdainfully.

‘Yes, that’s right. Desmond Berwick,’ Anthony confirmed.

‘What a shocking swindler he turned out to be. I’m just glad he got his comeuppance in the end. I hear he’s being detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure,’ Hugh said.

‘Who was he?’ Millie asked, intrigued.

‘He was in charge of the Paper Moon Foundation, working across all the major children’s hospitals,’ Cecelia explained. ‘It was a magnificent organisation until he made off with millions. The charity went into liquidation, but we’re thrilled to be relaunching it with Aunty Gee’s help at the garden party.’

Jemima Tavistock fidgeted with the rings on her left hand and stared vacantly into the distance.

‘Is Chessie your daughter, Lady Tavistock?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

‘Yes,’ Anthony said, leaping in, ‘she’s probably a year or so older than you and she just started at Bodlington last term.’

‘Oh, my cousin goes there,’ Millie said. ‘She loves it. Maybe she and Chessie are friends. Her name is –’

‘Yes, perhaps they are,’ Jemima said, earning a confused look from Millie, who had been cut off before revealing her cousin’s identity.

‘That’s a long way away,’ Cecelia said. ‘It must be tricky to get up there during the term.’

‘Yes, but you understand – family tradition and all that,’ Jemima said.

Cecelia nodded. ‘Of course. Alice-Miranda had absolutely no say about where she was heading for her primary years, although I didn’t expect her to make arrangements to start quite as early as she did. Now that her school has expanded into secondary I think we’d have to drag her out of there kicking and screaming.’

‘You’re right about that, Mummy,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘I don’t fancy moving one little bit.’

‘Me either,’ Millie agreed.

‘What a pity Chessie’s not here for the holidays,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘I could have introduced her to Jasper and Poppy. They live on the farm at Highton Hall and we always have the best adventures when we get together.’

‘Anyway, we should leave you two lovebirds to have your lunch,’ Hugh said. ‘I imagine you’re still on your honeymoon.’

‘Why don’t you join us?’ Anthony suggested. He looked at his wife, who smiled blankly.

‘Oh no, we don’t want to intrude,’ Hugh said.

‘Trust me, it’s so good to see you and we hardly ever get to catch up. Besides, Jemima and Cee can chat about the garden party and there are a couple of things I’d like to run by you, if I may?’ Anthony realised that if anyone could give him sound financial advice it would be Hugh.

The decision was made and the waitress, who had been hovering with a slightly tense look on her face, quickly joined another table to the one the Tavistocks were sitting at. More menus were distributed and the group sat down.

Anthony Tavistock suddenly remembered that Hugh and Cecelia had some rather large problems of their own at the moment. ‘So where are things up to with the … incident?’ he asked.

‘Miss Plunkett has taken over the investigation,’ Alice-Miranda said, and noted how Jemima’s eyes widened at the mention of the woman’s name.

Anthony frowned. ‘Oh, you mean the Head of SPLOD. Wasn’t that a curious thing when she and Queen Georgiana went on television to reveal all about the organisation? Talk about going from a closed shop to a totally transparent operation.’

‘She’s so clever,’ Alice-Miranda said, earning a nod from Millie. ‘They both are.’

‘Well, that’s very good news,’ Anthony said. ‘Don’t you think, darling?’

But Jemima was a world away. Alice-Miranda couldn’t help but notice that her sparkle seemed to have dimmed. She worried that it was perhaps her and her mother’s fault for telling Lady Tavistock all the things the Heritage Council wouldn’t allow her to do with Bedford Manor. She hoped that wasn’t the case, although Jemima couldn’t seem to get rid of her visitors fast enough after her phone call the other day.

Orders were taken and it wasn’t long before plates of food were delivered. It was Sunday roasts for everyone except for Jemima, who had opted for a poached fish dish.

‘So what did you want to discuss?’ Hugh asked quietly.

Cecelia and Alice-Miranda were in the middle of an animated discussion about the arrangements for the garden party, regaling Jemima with how it all worked and who was involved. Millie listened intently, having never been before either.

‘It’s about the estate,’ Anthony said in hushed tones. ‘Perhaps I should come to see you at home some time and we can talk privately, when you don’t have so much on your plate.’

Hugh chewed his pork slowly and looked over at his friend with concern. ‘Not good?’

Anthony shook his head. ‘Worse than I ever imagined.’

‘Why don’t you pop over this evening?’ Hugh suggested. ‘Bring Jemima, and Cee can give her a tour of the house.’

‘Are you sure?’ Anthony asked.

Hugh nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Great, that would be great.’ Anthony smiled. If anyone knew the best way to get out of the mess they were in, it was Hugh Kennington-Jones.