These secret meetings began to take place every day and after a few short minutes spent in private conversation, the young lovers would set off on a stroll. More than once they were met by villagers and farmers alike and a little scandal slowly began to raise its ugly head.

  Fortunately the end of autumn was approaching and the weather grew very cold. One morning, as Philip sprang from his bed, he noticed that a cold, icy wind was swaying the leafless branches of the trees and that the rain was pouring down in torrents. He knew that on such days he shouldn’t expect Jane to meet him at their usual spot. With a heart full of sadness, he went to the barn and helped feed the cows.

  Miss Worrall had gone out, but it was in a car and she was driven to a cottage to see a poor woman, who had broken her leg and who had only the meagre wages of her daughter Matilda to live. As soon as Jane entered the cottage she could see that something was wrong.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  The poor woman showed her a summons to appear in court. She had just received it. She explained that she owed three hundred shilling and that she could no longer pay the interest on the principle. Her little cottage, the only thing of value she had left, would be seized and so she would end up homeless on the streets.

  “It’s the Weasel,” she said. “It’s that Newton, who has done all this.”

  The old woman went on to say that, when she went to her creditor to beg him for more time on account of her broken leg, he had told her to send her pretty daughter to him to plead her cause.

  Miss Worrall was disgusted at what she heard and her eyes beamed compassion and fire.

  “I will see this wicked man,” she said, “who thinks it appropriate to pounce on defenseless women.”

  She asked her chauffeur to drive her to the Weasel’s cottage. Newton was engaged in writing a letter, when his housekeeper ushered Jane into the office. He sprang to his feet and bowed deeply. He moved a chair, so his visitor could sit down opposite him.

  Though Jane didn’t know the man, except by reputation, she was not as naive as Philip. She was not deceived by his air of helpful friendliness. With a gesture of her hand, she declined the chair and this act cut through Newton’s sensitive heart like a knife. She had made of Newton a mortal enemy.

  “I’ve come to you,” she said in the cold, distant words in which some young women of high birth sometimes addressed their inferiors, “on behalf of the widow, Mrs. Jarrett.”

  “I see! So you know the poor woman too?”

  “Yes and I take a great interest in her.”

  “You’re a very kind young lady,” answered the Weasel with a smile, “If only more young women would have your heart.”

  “The poor woman is in a most terrible situation. She’s confined to her bed, because of a broken leg. At the moment she is without any means of sustenance.”

  “I’ve heard of her accident. Dreadful business.”

  “And yet she received a summons to appear in front of a judge. She will lose her house, which is all she possesses in the world.”

  An expression of sympathy appeared on Newton’s face.

  “Poor woman!” he said. “Some men are not content with enough. They want more. They want everything!”

  Jane was disgusted by the old man’s lies.

  “It seems to me,” she said, “that you’re to blame for her problems.”

  “That cannot be!”

  “Yes it sure is! No one but you is persecuting this poor widow.”

  “I?” he said, astonished. “But Milady, please do not listen to the cruel tongues of gossip-mongers. I have no hand in her troubles. This poor woman bought grain, potatoes and three sheep from a local farmer. He gave her credit to the extent of about three hundred shilling. Well, what happened was that in time, the man asked, which was his right, for his money. The widow had none to give him, so he came to me. I did my best to convince him to wait, but he wouldn’t listen to me. What was I to do? He has the law on his side after all.” He continued, as though speaking to himself, “If only I could help this poor creature! But that cannot be done without money.”

  He opened a drawer and pulled out around fifty shilling and counted them out on the desk.

  “This is all I own in this world,” he said sadly. “But why fear? If poor Mrs. Jarrett has found a rich young lady like you to help her, all is not lost.”

  The young lady sighed. He didn’t continue.

  “I will speak to my father on the matter,” Jane said in a voice, which showed that she knew there was no chance of her father taking any interest in the widow’s misfortunes.

  Newton’s face changed colors.

  “You will go to Lord Worrall with this matter?” he asked. “Please take my advice as I’m on your side in this. Please go to some intimate friend, Viscount Swaffham for instance.” Jane went pale. He didn’t see it apparently as he continued, “Lord Swaffham doesn’t give his son a large allowance, but I know that the young gentleman will have no difficulty in raising whatever sum he needs. Remember that it won’t be long before he’s of age. Of course I’m not counting his marriage, which will put a huge sum of money at his disposal even before he turns twenty-one.”

  Jane immediately fell in the trap the wily moneylender had laid for her.

  “What marriage?” she exclaimed.

  “I know very little about it. I only know that if the young man wants to marry without his father’s consent, he will have to wait at least three years.”

  “Three years?”

  “Yes.”

  This last arrow hit its target. The young woman lost her head.

  “That can’t be true!” she cried. “Are you sure about this?”

  The Weasel smiled silently, triumphantly.

  “I’m not mistaken,” he said.

  He calmly leafed through a book of law and pointed out the provision he had brought up. As Jane carefully read the passage to which his thick finger pointed, he watched her like a fat cat watches a plump mouse. When Jane had read it, her face was pale. She swallowed twice, before she could talk again.

  “Ah, after all, what does it matter to me?” Jane said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I will talk to my father about the poor widow’s case.”

  With that she walked slowly out of the room. Her legs were almost too weak to carry her small weight. The Weasel rubbed his hands.

  “Things are getting decidedly hot,” he mumbled.

  He decided to ask the bailiffs to temporarily halt all proceedings against Mrs. Jarrett. This might earn him another conversation with Miss Worrall and it could perhaps even help him win the young woman’s confidence.

  As Jane drove away, she cried. The information she had received from Newton had rendered all her plans of no use. It had not only broken her heart. It had shattered her dreams and thrown them to all four corners of the wind.

  “Lord Swaffham,” she whispered to herself, “will never consent to his son’s marriage with me. I have no money. But as soon as Philip is of age he can do as he wants and he will marry me, in spite of his father’s opposition. But will he want to wait?”

  For a moment she thought of the possible early demise of the old man, but he was neither very old, nor in bad health. Just as she was about to lose all hope, the car stopped in front of the widow’s cottage. For a moment she sat still then she decided that she wouldn’t lose courage. There was still hope. The first thing she had to accomplish was to see Philip as soon as possible. She entered the small cottage hastily.

  “I’ve talked to Newton,” she said. “All matters will be arranged shortly. Keep courage!”

  Without listening to the thanks and blessings, which the poor woman showered on her, she asked for a pen and a piece of paper. When Matilda brought her the pen and paper she wrote, “Jane couldn’t be at the usual meeting place today, even in spite of the weather, because she had to visit a poor widow, who needed her assistance. Tomorrow at two o’clock she will have to call at the house of a man named Mr. Newton for same said widow.”

  She folded the note and asked Matilda if she could bring it to Mr. Philip Swaffham. Matilda, who was in love with one of the farm hands at Swaffham Manor agreed to deliver the letter as it formed a good excuse for seeing her lover again.

  The next day, in the midst of a heavy shower of rain, Philip made his appearance at Newton’s cottage. As an excuse for his visit, he told Newton that he had no money left and wished to replenish his supply. He was feeling low, because he feared that his father was entertaining a wedding for him with someone, who was not Miss Worrall.

  The old miser had said it himself, “You will marry a woman of wealth.” Philip swore, however, that this time he would no longer be obedient. He would resist to his last breath. He hoped to receive assistance from Newton. He was about to ask Newton for his advice on this matter, when a car drew up at the door of the cottage and Miss Worrall descended from it. Newton at once saw the dangers in front of him and decided to attack the challenge head on. He wasted no time in addressing Jane.

  “The bailiffs have stopped the proceedings,” he said. “I just received their letter to that effect.”

  He looked through his desk drawers and searched as diligently for the letter as if it had actually existed anywhere except in his own imagination.

  “Dear me,” he said at last. “I cannot find it. I must have left it in the other room. Excuse me, both, I will be back immediately.”

  His sudden departure from the room had been by design. He guessed that the two of them arriving at the same time at his cottage was no mere coincidence. He wished to know more about their plans with the help of a little eavesdropping. He therefore applied first his ear and then his eye to the keyhole and by these means, he gained all the information he desired.

  A moment of privacy with the woman he loved had excited Philip, but when Jane had first entered the office, he was horrified by the look on her face. He took her hand. She didn’t endeavor to withdraw it. He gazed into her eyes.

  “What is it, my love?” he murmured in a tone, which betrayed love and tenderness.

  Jane sighed then a tear slowly ran down her cheek. Philip didn’t understand these signs of grief.

  “Good heavens!” he cried. “Will you not trust me? I am your most devoted friend.”

  At first she refused to say what the problem was, but at length she yielded to his pleas and confessed that the evening before she had talked to her father about the widow, but instead of taking interest in her case he had informed her that a young man had sought her hand in marriage and that he was of the opinion that she should accept his proposal as he was a perfectly eligible suitor.

  Philip listened to her words, trembling from head to toe. He was suddenly overcome with jealousy.

  “And did you not object?” he asked brusquely.

  “How could I?” she answered. “What can a woman do, when her parents tell her to do something? What choice do I have? He’s the only one, who presented himself before my father.”

  Newton laughed silently, as he kept his ear close to the keyhole.

  “Nice try, little woman,” he mumbled. “Not bad at all. You have a clever mind and a glib tongue. You would’ve done wonders, if you had me as your mentor. If this farm fool doesn’t go to her father at once to make an open declaration of love, I wonder what she will do next.”

  “But you can!” said Philip reproachfully. “Be strong! Remember there is no escape from an unhappy marriage.”

  Jane, who seemed to look more beautiful than ever in her despair, wrung her hands.

  “What reason should I give to my father for declining this marriage proposal?” she asked, pitifully. “You know that I have no money to offer you or anybody. All we have is our name and our family estate and my parents insist both go to my brother. My fate is a cruel one. I have everything today, but can hope for nothing tomorrow. How dare I refuse a suitable offer, when one is made for my hand?”

  “Have you forgotten me?” cried Philip. “Don’t you love me?

  “My poor friend,” she said, breaking his heart, “your hand is even weaker than mine.”

  “What do I care for my father?” cried the young man, standing up. “I am a Swaffham too! Woe to anyone, father or stranger, who comes between me and you.”

  He grabbed Jane roughly by the hand and raised her to her feet. He embraced her and pressed a loving kiss on her lips.

  “No one will take you away from me! Ever!”

  “Ah,” mumbled Newton, who had heard and seen everything, “this information is worth a lot of money.”

  For a moment Jane stayed in her lover’s rough, but loving embrace. Then, with a faint sigh, she released herself from his arms.

  “Jane! My Jane!” he said in a voice filled with anguish. “Do you refuse me? I beg you to be my wife. Share my name with me. Be my Lady of Swaffham.”

  Jane could only reply with a glance as her voice had deserted her. Still her answer was clear.

  “If you love me,” answered Philip, “and I love you, then why should we torture ourselves with imaginary nightmares? Is it that you don’t trust me? I know my father will at first oppose my plans, but I am a man too and I can marry whoever I want.”

  “Ah, Philip,” she countered, sadly, “you’re being led by wrong assumptions. You must be twenty-four years of age before you can marry me and give me the shelter of your name and of your heart, without your father being able to disinherit you.”

  Newton knew this was the coupe de grace. Now he understood her.

  “My dear young lady,” he said, smiling, “so this is why you came here. You do me proud. I gave a lesson to a worthy pupil.”

  “It’s impossible,” cried Philip, pacing back and forth agitatedly. “This cannot be.”

  Jane answered calmly, “Unfortunately I’m telling you exactly how matters stand. The law clearly fixes the age at twenty-four. Today you’re mine, but will you still love me tomorrow?”

  “I will always love you, so don’t talk to me of law. No, I will do what I have to do.”

  It was time. The Weasel stood up and carefully removed the dust from the knees of his trousers. He opened the door suddenly and was in the middle of the room, before the lovers could completely regain their composure. He looked at them. They looked at him. They knew he knew about them.

  He said placidly, “I couldn’t find the bailiff’s letter, but rest assured, Miss, that poor Mrs. Jarrett’s matter will be quickly and satisfactorily dealt with.”

  Jane and Philip exchanged glances of annoyance. Their secret was at the mercy of such a man. Newton caught their glances and no matter how cold and devious his heart was it wounded him deeply.

  “You have a perfect right,” he said dejectedly, “to be fearful of me or to hate me. But I hate all kinds of injustice and I always take the side of the weakest. Now that I know of your troubles, there is nothing I can say to myself but, “Here are two young people, who are made for each other and who need your help.”

  “You forget yourself, sir” Jane interrupted, haughtily.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss,” mumbled Newton. He walked to the window and looked out into the fields. “I’m a poor, old man and sometimes I speak my mind too frankly for my own good. I meant no harm to either of you. Please forgive me.”

  Newton didn’t turn around. As Jane didn’t reply, he went on, “When I see two young persons, who love each other dearly and who have every right to do so and harm no one by loving each other, then my blood boils at the cruelty of them being kept apart by unreasonable parents. You are young and you know nothing of the law. You need the help of someone, who is knowledgeable of the law matters. Without help you are both doomed to be kept apart. Your love it will be wasted on the matches your parents find suitable for you and the strong arm of the law will support them. Let me help you! I know the law thoroughly.”

  He stayed where he was in front of the window. In the window panes he saw that they had moved closer together and that they were whispering to each other.

  “I don’t trust him!”

  “Why should we not trust him?” whispered Philip back. “He has plenty of experience.”

  “He will betray us. He will do anything for money.”

  “But that is all the better for us. If we promise to reward him handsomely, he will keep his mouth shut.”

  “Do as you think best, Philip,” she said, glancing at him with eyes, which showed her confidence in him.

  The young man’s heart forgot to beat. He turned to Newton.

  “I put my faith in you and so does Miss Worrall. You know our predicament. What do you advise us to do?”

  “Wait,” answered the Weasel. “I will work on your behalf. Trust in me. Don’t take a step, before you have informed me. Any mistake could be fatal to your prospects. Together we will bring your father to his knees.”

  Nothing could have made his intentions clearer, but he was so cheerful and confident, that Jane left the office feeling fresh hope well up in her heart.

  Winter came on rapidly and with the increased severity of the weather, so too it was impossible for the lovers to meet out of doors. They didn’t wish to meet indoors for fear of spying eyes. Each day the widow’s daughter, Matilda, carried a letter to Worrall Manor and brought back a reply to Swaffham Manor. The inhabitants of the neighboring country houses had fled to London and its balls and parties. Only Lord Worrall, who was an obsessive huntsman, still lingered. At the first heavy fall of snow, though, he too decided to take refuge in the mansion, which he owned in London. Left alone and lonely, Philip borrowed more money from Newton and bought a car. Two or three times in the week he drove to Nottingham. After changing his clothes, he would make the rounds of the town. He had resumed his friendship with Charles and had often been with him to the Bell Inn. Charles was only for a short time in Nottingham. As soon as spring began he was to join the young Count Bletchley, who had promised to find a position for him. His fast approaching departure was not at all to Charles’s taste, for he was madly in love with a young woman, who lived in Nottingham. He told his troubles to Philip and as confidence begets confidence, he told him of his predicament.