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“Are all your locks so well oiled?”
“No of course not, why should they be?” A whimsical sigh escaped Deb’s lips. “I often sit outside and watch the stars in the sky. Sometimes I imagine Harry is looking down on me. What am I going to do about this place?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Freddie, it doesn’t suit you. We both know Julian will expect me to move to his home in Lincolnshire. After all, what man will forsake his own home for that of his wife’s first husband?”
“I can’t answer that, my dear. But rest assured, Julian is aware of the value you put on this place and the people on it. I am sure he will not expect you to become an absentee landlady.”
“But that’s just it, Freddie.” The tears in Deborah’s voice made themselves known. “I am no longer their landlady. Julian, by marriage takes on that position. And I am convinced that unlike Harold, he will not tolerate my participation in its management. Especially now we have discovered the plots against me.” A tear slipped its anchor and tracked down her cheek.
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