“Ah, yes…” Cecilia’s father said, looking down at the table again. “Well, after Mrs. Baxter died, I was forgetful, I stopped going to work, and after a while, the project came to a halt. Eventually, Mr. Wiltshire sacked me.”
“Did he know that Mama had just died?” Cecilia asked, shocked that anyone could be so cruel.
“He did,” her father replied, “and, in fact, he was very understanding about it. He gave me several weeks before asking me to return to work, and when I failed to return, he waited even longer before terminating my employment. Even then, he was left with a half-finished house, and when I was unable to pay back the money he had spent, he allowed me to give back only a small fraction of it.”
“Well, that was very kind of him, I suppose.” Archie said, his voice sounding cheerful.
“It was,” Cecilia’s father agreed, “and over the years, I have paid him some small installments toward the remainder of my debt. But there is still a large amount outstanding, and Mr. Cooper came here today to inform me Mr. Wiltshire wants to collect the debt immediately.”
“Immediately? How can he expect payment immediately?” Cecilia asked, startled by this news.
“Well, I suppose since the debt is ten years overdue, I cannot blame him for wanting his money right now,” her father replied.
“Of course,” said Archie, “but how much money is owed? Is it possible to pay the debt immediately?”
“I now owe him one-hundred-and-fifty pounds,” he replied, sounding resigned.
“One-hundred-and-fifty pounds?” Cecilia asked, shocked at this amount. She knew that paying so much money back would be completely impossible, even after their work for the Duke and Duchess was complete. What ever shall we do?
“Mr. Baxter,” Archie said, sounding confused, “how can you possibly owe him so much money?”
“It was a large-scale project. In the end he would have paid me many times as much, had I completed the project. But as it happened, he paid me two hundred pounds, and I was only able to pay back a small portion of that.”
Cecilia’s father continued to look down at the table. He held his hands together tightly, and Cecilia could see the muscles of his forearms contracting and relaxing as he spoke.
“Oh, Papa, what shall we do?” she asked him.
“I…” he began, but trailed off momentarily. After a brief silence, he said “I do not know, Cece, I truly do not know.”
“Mr. Baxter,” Archie said, his voice sounding calm and reassuring, “perhaps I could lend you some money to help reduce the debt.”
“That is very kind of you, Archie,” Cecilia’s father replied, “but I could not possibly accept that. You are my employee, I pay you, not the other way around.”
“Well, yes, that is the traditional arrangement,” Archie said. “But if you cannot afford to pay my wages because you have been financially ruined by this debt…” He trailed off as his employer lifted his head and looked him directly in the eyes.
“I said no, Archie,” he said firmly, though not unkindly. “I shall speak to Mr. Cooper again and make some sort of arrangement. I will be honest with you both—it is possible that this debt will ruin me, but it is my responsibility to bear.”
Cecilia looked at her father as he spoke. She could see how difficult this must be for him. This debt had been hanging over him for ten years, and she had never known. Oh, Papa, why did you never tell me this?
In addition to feeling sorry for her father, Cecilia could not help feeling frustrated as well. He had kept this information from her when she was a little girl whose mother had just died, and she could understand why he would do that. But he had continued to keep the secret for ten years, and because of that, he had allowed himself and Cecilia to be ambushed.
* * *
After the conversation about the family’s finances, Cecilia paced in her bed chamber for quite some time, thinking about what she could possibly do to help her father. She could think of nothing that would generate an extra one-hundred-and-fifty pounds immediately, and soon found herself wondering what Nicholas might say about this problem.
Of course, the answer to that question was a simple one. Nicholas would pay the one-hundred-and-fifty pounds without a second thought. That amount of money would be merely a mild inconvenience to a man of his means. She could hardly imagine such a life. When I am the Duchess of Huxley, I shall teach my children to be more cautious with their finances.
After a quarter hour of pacing, Cecilia calmed her nerves enough to sit at her writing desk and resume her letter to her mother.
Dear Mama,
You would not believe the news that we learned today. A man called Mr. Cooper came to the house and told Papa that he represents a Mr. Wiltshire who is seeking to collect an old debt. The debt is for one-hundred-and-fifty pounds, and he wants to collect it immediately and in full!
Poor Papa is obviously devastated, although he says that he will manage it somehow. Archie has offered to lend us some money to use toward the debt but Papa won’t hear of it, of course.
The debt was incurred when he failed to complete a large scale job shortly after your death. I realize now that he was grieving much more than I knew at the time. I was so consumed by my own sadness that I never paid attention to his.
And now, I do feel very sorry for him, but I cannot help but be mad at him as well. I can understand why the debt was incurred in the first place, but he has failed to pay it back for ten years now. What did he expect to happen? Mama, how could he possibly make such a huge mistake?
What shall we do if he is unable to pay the debt? Perhaps he could speak with Mr. Cooper again and see if it would be possible to pay it over time in smaller increments, but I have no idea if Mr. Wiltshire would agree to such a thing. Truthfully, I could hardly blame him if he did not agree, after ten years of waiting for payment.
I know that my romance with Nicholas is hardly the most important thing at the moment, but I find that I cannot help but wonder what he would advise in this situation. Which is foolish, because a debt of this amount would be a mere trifle to him, so I doubt that he could possibly offer any helpful advice.
Oh Mama, what should I do? Is there anything that I can do to help Papa pay his debt? I have been searching and searching my brain this evening to come up with a solution, but I can see no way to help. Should I speak to Nicholas about it? He might think that I was asking him to offer money, but I truly would not want him to. I am genuinely just interested to know his advice. He is a very clever gentleman, on top of being charming and handsome.
I feel so exhausted, Mama, I feel that I could spend the whole night pacing my room thinking about this and never come up with a solution. I wish that you were here to offer some advice.
Your Loving Daughter,
Cece
Chapter 22
Nicholas was feeling quite pleased for himself in the wake of his most recent conversation with his parents. He would have to wait a few more weeks before officially proposing to Cecilia, but he would propose. She will be my wife. She will be mine, to have and to hold, until death do us part.
A smile crossed Nicholas’ lips at the thought of “having and holding” Cecilia for the rest of their lives. It was not the first time this thought had crossed his mind. This particular time, he was lying abed in the early hours of the morning.
He supposed that the servants were up getting everything ready for the day, but the rest of his family would be asleep for several more hours. Realizing this, Nicholas rolled over in his bed, pulled the bed clothes back over himself, and allowed his mind to linger on Cecilia.
He imagined Cecilia lying in bed beside him. When she was finally his wife, they would be able to remain in bed together for hours. Perhaps some of that time would be spent talking, and Nicholas was sure that he would enjoy this, but for now he fantasized about the other things they would do together in bed. He imagined kissing every inch of her body—the secret places hidden by her clothes that he would be able to explo
re.
* * *
Later that day after fantasizing about his next meeting with Cecilia, and then dressing and coming downstairs for the day, Nicholas prepared to leave the manor. He could not see Cecilia again for some time, and he had exhausted the books in his family’s library.
He would go to London to visit his school friend, Michael Cortland, who had recently come into his peerage as the Duke of Westfield.
Before leaving the house, Nicholas saw the Duchess in the drawing room. The Duke had remained in bed this morning with another headache.
“How long will you remain in town, Nicholas?” she asked him.
“Westfield has invited me to stay for as long as I like,” he replied, “I expect I shall stay for at least a week since I must delay in seeing Miss Baxter.”
“Hmmm…” the Duchess said, “well, do let us know when you expect to return, but there is certainly no rush. I am sure that Miss Baxter will be fine while you are away.”
Nicholas raised his eyebrows at this, but decided it would be best not to engage in whatever his mother was trying to communicate here.
“Yes,” he said curtly, “well, I shall be off then. Please tell Father that I said goodbye and that I am sorry I wasn’t able to see him this morning.”
With this he walked out of the drawing room and headed to the library where he found Lady Isobel reading a volume about botany. She was so engrossed in her reading that she did not notice him enter the room, and he watched her reading for a moment before making his presence known.
Nicholas could hardly believe that his sister was a young lady about to make her debut. I still think of her as a little girl running through the halls, laughing and terrorizing her governess.
Nicholas cleared his throat, making more noise than was really necessary in order to get his sister’s attention. She looked up, briefly confused by the interruption, but smiled warmly upon seeing her brother’s face.
“There you are, Nick!” she said, “I was beginning to think you might leave without saying goodbye. In just a few more minutes I would have come to search for you.”
“Oh Izzy,” he said, smiling at her in return, “surely you know that I would never leave without saying goodbye to you first?”
“I do,” she admitted, “but I do love to tease you.”
Nicholas laughed at this, knowing that she spoke the truth, and thinking fondly of all of the ways in which they had teased as siblings since she was old enough to know what teasing meant.
“I shall be gone for a week,” he said to her, “perhaps longer, I cannot be sure.”
“A whole week away from the lovely Miss Baxter?” Lady Isobel said, in a mock tone of scandal. “How will you ever survive such deprivation?”
“I must avoid Miss Baxter’s company for the time being anyway,” he answered. “It will be easier for me to do so if I am in London, far away from her home and with many distractions.”
“Hmm…” Lady Isobel said, pursing her lips so that she looked remarkably like the Duchess, “well, do make sure that none of those ‘distractions’ cause a scandal that would make Miss Baxter disinclined to marry you!”
“Why Izzy! Whatever do you mean?” He asked, now affecting a mock tone of scandal himself, “I solemnly swear that I shall do nothing in London that would cause a scandal of any kind.”
“Very good,” Lady Isobel replied, looking serious now. “I am glad to hear that, Nick, and I hope that you will have a wonderful visit with The Duke of Westfield.”
“Thank you,” Nicholas replied, “and I hope that you will be all right here without me.”
“I always am!” Lady Isobel replied brightly.
Nicholas looked at her for a moment, suddenly realizing that she spent almost all of her time here with just her parents and the servants for company.
It was as though Lady Isobel had read his mind, or perhaps his thoughts had been written clearly on his face. In either event, she spoke to him in a quieter, kinder voice now.
“I promise I shall be fine, Nick,” she said. “Mother can be overbearing at times, especially as my debut approaches, but I have spent a lifetime learning how to handle her.”
“I wish I had spent a bit more of my lifetime learning that skill,” Nicholas said.
“It seems to me that you are quite accomplished in this area,” his sister said, sounding earnest.
“Do you really think so? I have never failed to let her frustrate me.”
“Well, you may be frustrated by her, and who could blame you?” Lady Isobel said, “But did you not convince her to allow your engagement to Miss Baxter?”
“That is true,” Nicholas said, cautiously. “Although, she certainly makes it known that she does not approve any time Miss Baxter’s name comes up in her hearing.”
“Did she say something about it to you?” Lady Isobel asked.
“Of course not,” Nicholas replied, “but you know as well as anyone that her silences are often more telling than her words.”
“That may be the truest thing you have ever said to me, Nick,” Isobel said, laughing slightly as she spoke. Nicholas laughed along with her. Their Mother’s ability to command those around her with a mere lift of her eyebrow or purse of her lips was an impressive skill, and one that Nicholas and his sister had both admired and feared for many years.
“In any event,” Lady Isobel continued, “I shall bear the brunt of her silences while you are away, and I shall endeavor to convince her that your marriage to Miss Baxter is not only allowable, but desirable.”
“Oh Izzy,” he said, smiling with genuine warmth for his sister, “you are too kind to me. What on earth would I do without a sister such as you?”
“I expect you would be very sad for having no one to complain to,” she said in a matter of fact tone. “Now, you must be going. Enjoy your trip!”
Nicholas stepped into the hallway and summoned his personal valet. His valet helped him into his coat and hat, and they walked outside the carriage house. Nicholas’ luggage had already been packed and loaded, and the carriage driver was ready and waiting. Nicholas climbed into the carriage and closed his eyes to dream of Cecilia as they drove away.
* * *
Cecilia was surprised to discover that a note had been delivered, addressed to her, while she was in the yard varnishing the completed wardrobe for the Duchess of Huxley.
“Who delivered this?” she asked, as Mrs. Williams handed the letter to her.
“I don’t know his name, Miss,” Mrs. Williams said, seeming unconcerned as she continued to knead bread for that night’s dinner. “It was some boy from the village, is all I know.”
“All right,” Cecilia said, intrigued, “thank you, Mrs. Williams.”
Cecilia looked more closely at the letter. It was closed with burgundy sealing wax, pressed with an ornate letter “H”. With shaking hands, she broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
Dear Miss Baxter,
I would appreciate it if you would join me for tea at Huxley Manor tomorrow afternoon. I shall send my carriage to fetch you from your home, and expect you at 2 o’clock.
Sincerely,
Matilda Lymington, Duchess of Huxley
Cecilia read the letter twice, and even turned it over to see whether there might be a post script on the back. Doing this revealed no additional information, Cecilia remained as confused as ever by this note.
Cecilia tried, in vain, to convince herself that the Duchess probably wanted to meet with her to discuss the construction of her furniture. But as the day went on, and she thought more about it, she knew this could not possibly be the reason for the invitation.
She knew in her heart, as well as in her gut, that her meeting with the Duchess would not be a pleasant one. The only possible reason for such an invitation could be to attempt once again to convince her that she could not marry Nicholas. Knowing that there was nothing that she could do about this until tomorrow, Cecilia resolved to distract herself with work.
As they w
orked, Cecilia and her father were unusually quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Archie, on the other hand, seemed determined to brighten the mood in the workshop. To that end, he kept up a regular stream of conversation.
“I heard in town yesterday that we’re to have a new vicar at the Church starting next month,” he said, in an uncharacteristically enthusiastic tone.
Neither Cecilia nor her father responded to this news, but Archie was undeterred.
“Apparently he comes from a parish outside of York, and is a well-respected preacher. Of course, Father Jameson has always been well loved here, and I’m sure that we will all miss him dearly when he retires, but perhaps having a new preacher will bring some interesting new ideas to the congregation.”
The Marquess In Her Bed (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 17
