Chapter TenTheodore, the ninth Earl of Darwell, raised his head weakly from his pillows when he heard hooves clattering into the courtyard. One yellowed, emaciated hand, bearing a heavy gold ring with the family crest engraved on it, stirred on the sheet, then reached waveringly towards the bell rope.
He pulled and a tolling sounded in the servants' quarters but, seeing that Darwell Manor was now reduced to a complement of three, a cook, a general housemaid, and a butler, who were all busy fulfilling the tasks of at least fifteen, nobody answered the old man's call.
“Damnable business,” he muttered to himself, “damnable.”
What made it worse was that he knew it was entirely his fault, and his alone, that the Darwell family were reduced to such penurious straits. The death of his young wi
