The Purloined Papers

Cover of book The Purloined Papers
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Categories: Fiction
Not that she could rest for long. She must return to the drawing room for the final formalities.
The interment had been brief – a few words from Peter, even fewer from the vicar. Ashes to ashes, dust
... to dust. Sir Nigel would return to the ground from whence he’d sprung.
Testament to Peter’s haste and Sir Nigel’s penchant for irritating everyone he met, few mourners had attended – Andrew; the family solicitor, Mr. Barry; four gentlemen from Sir Nigel’s club, who had come solely from duty; and the staff and tenants. Sad, in a way. A baronet should have commanded more respect.
She shook her head as she folded her nightgown into her bandbox. Everything about this visit was sad.
The estate had deteriorated badly in the last year. Even small things were now gone – the porcelain shepherdess that had once been her grandmother’s, the Italian urn her grandfather had acquired on his Grand Tour, a parquet tea table that had graced the drawing room for twenty years. The house seemed stark without paintings and sculpture.
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The Purloined Papers
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