And wasn’t that the truth.
None of them knew when Gavar might turn up to see his daughter. He would suddenly loom over them in the cottage kitchen, while Daisy was spooning mush into Libby’s sticky mouth and crooning nursery rhymes. Gazing out of Kyneston’s office window, Abi would often glimpse him striding towards the lake where Daisy had taken Libby to look at the ducks.
As she hurried through the service corridors one day, Abi heard Gavar roaring furiously about disrespect to his daughter. Fearing the worst, Abi diverted towards the formal front of the house ready to throw herself between him and Daisy. But as she opened the concealed door she saw a particularly snooty parlour-slave cowering against a tapestry, a pile of fresh linen crumpled at her feet. Gavar jabbed a meaty finger into the woman’s face. His other hand was protectively on Daisy’s shoulder, resting on the harness she used to carry Libby.
‘And apologize to Miss Hadley,’ Gavar snarled. ‘Even if you see her alone she will be going about the service of my child. You get out of her way, not the other way around. Now say it.’
‘I . . . I’m sorry, Miss Hadley,’ the maid stammered. ‘I won’t do it again.’
Gavar grunted, and Daisy tipped her head in acknowledgement like a diminutive queen. Astonished, Abi shut the door silently and returned about her errand.
The most startling thing happened the following week. They’d not yet been at Kyneston a month and the four of them were sat down to dinner. Daisy was uncharacteristically glum – even when Mum opened the oven and produced a surprise treat: apple crumble.
‘What’s up, puppy?’ Dad asked.
Daisy sniffed theatrically and wiped her nose with the back of her wrist.
‘I miss Gavar,’ she said, her voice small. ‘I’m going to go and check on Libby.’
And just as Mum put the pudding dish down in front of her, Daisy stood and disappeared upstairs.
The three of them looked at each other, bewildered.
‘Where’s Heir Gavar?’ Mum asked, after a moment.
Abi sighed, and dished herself some dessert.
‘He and Lord Jardine have gone up north,’ she said. ‘To Esterby Castle. It’s the First Debate – you know, when they discuss the Chancellor’s Proposal. There’s one in the autumn, one midwinter, then the Third Debate is here at Kyneston in the spring.
‘Jenner says they usually talk about the Proposals a lot, all the family, but that his dad and Gavar have been tightlipped this year. Silyen’s mixed up in it too, but I don’t get how. Jenner says his father claims the Proposal is so ridiculous it’s not even worth discussing. I don’t think he believes him, though.’
‘Jenner says this, Jenner says that,’ Dad said. ‘Are both my girls going doolally over these Jardine boys?’ His words were teasing, but his face was grim.
‘You watch yourself, young lady,’ Mum said.
Any retort would have kicked off an almighty family shouting match, so Abi bit her lip. Her parents were being absurd. She barely mentioned Jenner.
No, Daisy was the one they should be worried about. Heir Gavar might be charismatic but he was a brute, all swagger and shout, displeased with everyone and everything except his daughter.
And there was something even worse. Estate gossip held that he was responsible for the death of Libby’s mother, Leah. She had been shot accidentally when Gavar was out hunting one night.
Why would Leah have been roaming the grounds after dark? Abi couldn’t construct any convincing scenario.
Which led to one inescapable question: had it really been an accident?
At any rate, it couldn’t be safe for Daisy to spend so much time with Kyneston’s heir. All her initial fear of him had been replaced by a kind of worshipful adoration. But she was only ten, and while she was doing brilliantly minding Libby, surely at some point she’d slip up or make a mistake. Then how would Gavar react? No, it was too risky. Abi would have to see if Jenner could get Daisy assigned to some other task.
With this thought guilt welled up inside Abi again. She was no nearer to getting Luke transferred from Millmoor. The first few times she’d dropped her brother into conversation with Jenner, he had made no comment and she’d thought him simply preoccupied. But on the third occasion he’d turned to her with regret plain in those kind brown eyes.
‘I’m very sorry, Abigail, but there was a good reason why your brother couldn’t come to Kyneston, and that reason still stands. Please don’t ask me again.’
Then he shut himself off, just as he had the day they arrived or when they’d first asked about Libby.
His words were soft, but the refusal hit Abi hard. She had to keep asking. The thought of Luke stuck in Millmoor and at the mercy of people like that brutish guard for another few months was awful. That he might never join them was unthinkable. Luke, being the only boy, might fancy himself his sisters’ protector, but Abi was the eldest. Looking out for her siblings was her responsibility.