“Have you settled in, Leah?” Shapland asked. He stopped at the angle of the stairs, with Leah a few steps above him and a longcase clock ticking softly at his side.
“Yes, sir,” Leah replied with a curtsey. “I am quite comfortable, thank you.”
“I thought you would soon settle,” Shapland said. “I believe you had a personal tragedy before you came to us.”
“I did, sir,” Leah said. “I lost my husband.”
Shapland sighed sympathetically. “That must be terrible,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Come into my study and tell me what happened.”
“Thank you, sir.” Leah stood behind Shapland as he unlocked his study door and stepped inside. The room was large and airy, with a solid oaken desk against one wall. Shapland lit the four candles on an ornate candelabra, sat at his desk and invited Leah to
