He thought he heard a scraping sound as he turned the handle. Lady Palsworthy was the widow of a knight who had won his spurs in the wholesale coal trade, she was of good seventeenth-century attorney blood, a county family, and distantly related to Aunt Mollie’s deceased curate. He was asleep when Jonathan entered, and growled at being disturbed. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. Aroused by the sound of the church bells, he resolved, at whatever risk, to attend Divine service.
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