Chapter 9Time continued to pass, and each day my nerves stretched tighter, awaiting the inevitable.
On this day, not quite a fortnight since my uncle’s demise, I’d been closeted in the study all afternoon with Mr Kirkby, his man of business, trying to make heads or tails of the shambles in which Sir Eustace had left his estate.
“I’ve seen to it Fosby has been paid to the end of the quarter—that’s very generous of you, if I may make so bold, Sir Ashton, and I’ve given him the letter of reference you were so kind as to write for him.”
“Fosby was with Uncle Eustace for as long as I’ve lived here, and most likely even longer than that.” My uncle’s valet had been kind enough to instruct me in the art of tying a cravat, although I had no doubt he took more pleasure in performing that task him
