remarked, half to himself. âHis lordship signs himself Arthur Wellesley. I suppose he wrote this before he learned of his being named Lord Wellington.â
âI suppose so,â Charles said uninterestedly, too involved in his own concerns to trouble his mind about the war. âThe letter is dated two months past. The mails between us and the Peninsula are nothing short of shocking.â
âWell,â Mr. Prickett said in mild reproof, âthere is a war going on over there.â He folded the letter and replaced it in the drawer. Then, gathering up his papers, he said more decisively, âBut let me assure you that, war or no war, we shall leave no stone unturned to locate the Captain.â
âBut what are we to do in the meantime?â Lady Sybil asked urgently.
âYour usual allowances will continue, of course,â Mr. Prickett reminded her.
âAllowances? But they are a mere pittance !â Charles complained.
âIndeed they are. I canât even pay my milliner with mine!â Lady Sybil agreed. âIâm sure that if Henry were here heâd at least authorize the payment of our bills. He would surely do that , Mr. Prickett. Ask Charles, if you donât believe me. Ask Nell!â
Nell held up her hands in a gesture that emphasized her intention not to become involved in this discussion. âDonât ask me anything of the sort,â she pleaded laughingly. âNever having laid eyes on the celebrated Captain, I am completely unqualified to comment on what he would or would not do.â
âOf course youâve laid eyes on him. It was when you first came to live with us, remember? He came home from school, I rememberââ
âReally, Sybil! I was not eleven years old!â Nell laughed.
âI have no reason to doubt your word, Lady Sybil,â Mr. Prickett intervened. âIn fact, I quite agree with you. Captain Thorne is, as I remember, a most considerate and generous young man.â
âThen why canât you authorize the payment of our bills? You admit that Henry would have not the least objectionâ!â Lady Sybil urged.
âI have no authority to take such action, my lady. My powers of attorney do not extend so far. Iâm sorry.â And he snapped his paper-case shut with a sharp click of finality.
âBut suppose he is dead. And suppose we never find his body? Shall we have to wait forever in this impoverished state?â Charles asked irritably.
Lady Amelia shuddered. âPlease, Charles, donât talk so,â she pleaded. âIt positively chills my bones. The poor, poor boy â¦â She put a trembling hand to her eyes to shut out the thought of such a tragedy.
Charles tossed his aunt a look of disgust. The sentimental old lady had more concern for the whereabouts of her grandnephew than she had for the disposition of the inheritance. Henry was deadâthere was almost no doubt about that. Now the real and pressing problem was to be able to get their hands on the money. Charles had been fond of Henry Thorne, tooâ very fond of him. The boy had been a very pleasant fellow and a capital rider. Charles wished him no ill at all. Why, he could come home this very minute and take his place as the sixth Earl, for all Charles cared, so long as the bills could be paid . But Ameliaâs tears could not help anything at all.
Nell leaned forward in her chair and patted the old ladyâs hand comfortingly. Mr. Prickett coughed and rose from his chair, seizing the opportunity to take his leave. âDonât upset yourself, Lady Amelia,â he said briskly, moving to the door. âThere is every reason to hope that Captain Thorne may yet be found alive.â And bidding them all a firm goodnight, he hastily left the room.
For a moment, all four sat just as Mr. Prickett had left themâLady Amelia dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, Nell patting her shoulder, Lady Sybil and Lord