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1886 North Devon, England
Lady Lilliana Grantley has been seriously ill with typhoid, a disease that recently claimed her husband Edgar’s life and that of his long-time lover, Rosemary Gibbs. Now recovering at last, the lady wastes no tears on her husband but is determined to wreak revenge on his two illegitimate children.
Embarrassed for years by his affair with Rosemary, a childhood sweetheart living nearby, she has falsely accused Sir Edgar’s daughter, Millicent, of the theft of a precious brooch and wants to see her jailed or hung.
Fortunately for Millie and her little brother, Jonathan, their granny, Emily, insisted they leave home as soon as she heard of Sir Edgar’s death, for she knew his widow would seek revenge. The old lady was soon proved right, and Lady Lilliana, furious the two youngsters were nowhere to be found, evicted the old woman despite the fact she, too, was dangerously ill.
After a long and hazardous journey to North Devon, Millie and Jonathan were united with some long-lost family members who made them welcome and gave them a home. However, aware that Lady Lilliana has put a price on Millie’s head, they know they are not yet out of danger. Despite this, they are determined to find their granny, Emily, who seems to have disappeared.
Aided by her long-time lover, Sir Clive Robinson, Lady Lilliana is determined to find Millie and Jonnie and get them out of her life once and for all, but how far will the embittered woman go?
Excerpt from Chapter 2
Brampford Speke, a peaceful little village situated only a few miles from the bustling city of Exeter, would probably not have existed at all, but for the position of Grantley Manor, for farm labourers were always in demand on the large and prosperous estate. The village was surrounded by green rolling hills and picturesque scenery, and despite the bitter temperature that morning, the vicar was content with his lot.
Gregory Swann was an elderly man, born in the village some seventy years earlier and raised to follow in his father’s footsteps as a man of the cloth. Indeed, he still lived in the same house he had been born in and knew the only way he would ever want to leave would be carried out feet first. Kissing Edith, his wife of more than fifty years, goodbye, he crossed the icy yard to the stable, where he saddled his pony and set off to visit his parishioners.
Despite his warm hat, scarf, and gloves, the portly man shivered violently in the sub-zero temperatures, and his breath hung in the air. The grass and hedgerows glistened with a hard frost, and ice covered the village pond where a couple of ducks skidded on the surface, futilely seeking a morsel to eat.
He planned to visit several needy folk that day, some physically unwell, others depressed with their daily struggle for survival, and a few simply lonely and who would benefit from seeing a friendly face. He decided his first port of call would be to Ollie and Agnes Darch. Shortly before Christmas, the Darches had suffered from typhoid, a disease which had carried many to their graves, causing him and the local undertaker much work over the festive period. Thankfully, the couple had recovered, and the epidemic appeared to be over, but he had heard that Ollie was now suffering from lumbago.
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