Chapter 12: Two Hundred Pounds

Barnabas stood in the yard with a roll of banknotes in his hand and his back to the stable door.

My father stood in front of him, small and grey, with his sling across his chest.

A groom in the corner pretended to rub down a horse.

"Good morning, Mr. Blythe," I said.

He turned and gave me a delighted smile.

"Miss Tallis. How fortunate. I was just discussing arrangements with your father."

"You were discussing me."

"I was discussing your comfort."

"Fifty pounds," my father said mildly, "to take her home today."

"It was fifty." Barnabas peeled off another layer of notes. "It is now two hundred."

The groom stopped rubbing.

Two hundred pounds was more than my father earned in four years.

I looked at the roll in his hand, and I looked at Barnabas.

"Why?" I said.

"Because it is cheaper for everyone."

"For you."

"For the family."

His smile did not change.

"You've been a diverting guest. My cousin is lonely and in want of an interest."

"You have supplied it, and that's the end of it."

"Take the money, take your father, and leave the piano to a man."

"No."

"Think about what you're refusing."

"I have."

"You're a tradesman's daughter," he said.

His voice slid into something softer and nastier.

"You've been warming a duke's bed for a week. Do you suppose that gets you a ring?"

"It gets you a baby in six months and a bad name."

"You'll not be let into any house in England that keeps a pianoforte."

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