by Aria Norton
Not wanting to hear anything else, she ran off, heading towards the back door.
Chapter 4
George stared into his glass, admiring the amber colour. Richard certainly knows how to take care of his clients. His good friend owned one of the most well-known gentlemen’s club in England, a place for men looking for an escape from their daily lives. There was nothing seedy about the club like others, no. Black Suit was just a place of gambling, excellent spirits, great company, and imported cigars. Only a man of a discerning palette and substantial wealth was allowed within its four walls, and fortunately for George, he fitted the requirements.
“What number is this?” he slurred slightly, holding up his glass.
Could it be his third glass? Possibly. Perhaps it was more; he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that he no longer wished to have his thoughts tormenting him. They brought him nothing but sorrow and pain, and he had had enough. However, perhaps he should slow down on the number of glasses of brandy he was drinking lest he lose control of himself completely. There was nothing worse than watching a grown man fall apart in the presence of others. Richard would ensure that no one would mock him or that his inebriated state wouldn’t reach the daily gossip rags, but it was better to err on the side of caution.
“I’ll–” hiccup– “keep this with me. I’ll just s-sip it.”
Pleased with his decision, he turned his attention to the men playing cards. Most of them were his friends, men who were willing to lose a good few hundred all in the name of gambling. George was not much of a gambler, preferring to watch the game unfold from the side. His father had been a heavy gambler and lost most of his fortune by the time George had turned twenty. As a result, he had made a promise never to go down the road his father had walked, wanting a different life for himself.
Good business sense and shrewdness had afforded him the wealth he enjoyed today, surpassing some of the country’s earls and dukes. It had not come easily as he did not inherit much from his father beside a few debts, a house falling apart, and a few old servants. His mother had been wise enough to set aside her jewellery and money she had personally saved over the years, but that could only have taken him so far. At least I buried her with her full dignity intact, rather than a penniless widow.
What George had never expected to do was bury his own wife. Anna had been his childhood sweetheart, a woman who had stood by him through the most challenging times of his life. She had not run away when his father had been declared bankrupt, and she had not abandoned him when he had taken crazy risks to build his family’s wealth once again. He had married her when he was twenty-one, a time when he was still considered nigh a pauper by many people of their class.
She could have married anyone she wished to because her beauty had been well-known across England, but she had chosen him. I felt that I could have tackled the world with her by my side, and even if I lost, I still would have been a winner because she was my wife. What would she say about how he had handled their daughter’s life?
“Oh, Anna,” he whispered brokenly.
He had made a mess of his daughter’s life; no one else was to blame. If only I hadn’t neglected her, if I had just given her the love she deserved, we wouldn’t be so estranged. His daughter probably hated him, although hate was a strong word. He didn’t know if Aurora was capable of hating anyone, not with her good nature.
Despite all her stubborn ways, his daughter had a beautiful heart to match her outward beauty. She avoided him like the plague, but she still ensured that he was looked after by the servants. She doesn’t know that I have discovered her concern for me; she wishes me to believe that she despises me. George had no idea how to bridge the gap, and now that the issue of marriage had risen, he was floundering.
“George! Why do you look as though you lost a bottle of Scotland’s finest whisky in the River Thames?”
Frowning, he looked for the source of the voice, squinting through the billows of smoke puffed out. Lord Spalding came towards him, his belly preceding him. It seems that whenever I see this man, his stomach has increased in size.
“Alexander! I didn’t see you through the smoke there.”
The man laughed. “Why blame the smoke? ’Tis clearly that fine brandy you’re drinking that has befuddled your mind.”
George looked at his glass, shrugging. “Perhaps. Are you not playing a round today?”
“Goodness, no! Heard that Phinny was playing today, so I decided to remain a spectator. That man cleaned me out the last time I was here.”
Lord Phineas was a notorious gambler who lost much but also gained heavily. These days, it seemed he made his money from gambling as opposed to an actual business. I suppose gambling can be considered a business.
“Did you just get here? I didn’t notice you before.”
“I was in one of the other rooms speaking to a young chap by the name Carlos Fernandez. Brilliant merchant. I wanted to see if I could do business with him, but he doesn’t seem too keen.”
The name sounded familiar. “He’s the fellow that gifted the Duke of York his Arabian horse?”
“The one and the same. He is rather young to have amassed such a fortune, but the poor lad hasn’t managed to penetrate our society. Perhaps he hoped the Duke of York would give him a pass, but the duke is as much a stickler for rules as most of our kind. We don’t just let anyone in, eh?”
“No, that would pollute our pool,” George agreed. “However, I’m not against commoners trying to better themselves. We must commend them. We all started somewhere.”
George had been both an impoverished and wealthy nobleman; thus, he knew the merit in working towards something when one came from nothing.
“He seemingly came out of nowhere! Foreign bugger. Ah, I see Lord Mason. I have something to discuss with him – will you excuse me?”
The man rushed off, calling to the viscount, who looked as though he was pretending that he could not hear Lord Spalding call out to him.
“He is a nuisance. Thank goodness, he has given up asking me to join his new venture.”
They were all doomed to fail because the man failed to plan. George had tried to help him once before, but Alexander had the habit of cutting corners. Everyone would do better to stay away from him.
George continued to sip his brandy slowly, his eyes tracking the room. At first, Anna had hated him coming to places like this, thinking that the atmosphere would change him. Over time, she understood that Black Suit was a place of relaxation and making business connections for him, and less to do with actual drinking or gambling.
“What would she say if she saw me now?”
He pushed that question away as quickly as he had spoken, not wanting to feel worse than he already did. His beloved wife would be gone for eighteen years this year, a lifetime for him.
“Why did I give in to her last request? I should have said no! I should have denied her; then she would still be with me today.”
Anna had wanted a daughter, but the physician had warned her against falling pregnant again. Her last pregnancy had been difficult, weakening her, but she had regained much of her strength over time. So when she started to talk about trying one more time to have a daughter, he had agreed because it had made her happy. George had been content with his five sons, but it had been his wife’s dream since they were married to have a little girl. The child’s name had already been picked out and clothes knitted to fit her tiny body. What could he have done at the time but say yes?
“I never did learn how to say no to her. I just wanted her to have everything her heart could ever desire.”
But it came at a cost far greater than he had ever expected. Anna’s health had deteriorated the further the pregnancy progressed until she was put on bed rest. George had never been a praying man, but he had prayed daily on his wife’s behalf, begging that her life would be spared. It all had come to nothing when his wife had lain dying in his arms, their daughter having just uttered her first cry moments before.
“Oh, Anna. You made me promise to look after our daughter, to give her enough love that she wouldn’t feel your absence, but I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it.”
He wasn’t able to fulfil the promise, not with grief so strong in his heart. He had partially blamed the baby for his wife’s death, but in his heart, he had known it had nothing to do with her. George had taken one look at his daughter and given her up into the servants’ hands, warning them that he didn’t want to see or hear her. How could he when she looked so much like her mother?
“At the time, I did what I could to survive.”
As time began to heal his wound, he learned to tolerate knowing that his daughter was near him. He still largely ignored her, but sometimes it had been a sort of comfort seeing Anna in her. However, one day, he had looked up and noticed a young woman who resembled his wife so much that he had believed it was Anna. But the eyes were wrong. Anna’s had been round, but Aurora’s were almond-shaped and slightly slanted. It was then that he had realised that the woman before him was his daughter.
“I missed her entire childhood due to my selfishness. She is the daughter Anna had so desperately wanted, but I treated her as an unwanted object.”
How could he have done that? Guilt had stabbed him deeply in the heart that day, rendering him incapable of saying a word to her.
Rubbing his eyes hard, he removed the mist that had settled on them. No use crying over such things. He knocked back the rest of his drink, venturing deeper into the small crowd of men surrounding the card table.
About an hour or so later, George found himself pouring out his sorrows to his friends, or rather, anyone who would listen to him. Perhaps it was the fifth brandy that had loosened his tongue, but now there was no stopping him.
“She has to listen to me!” he bellowed. “I am her father, and I know what is best for her.”
“Right you are, Georgie,” Alexander agreed. “Women should be put in their place.”
“Precisssly,” he slurred. “Getting her married is the duty of any good father, but she refuses! Do you know that she has driven away every suitor I have brought to her? Every. Single. One.”
He jabbed the air, stumbling. Someone steadied him, leaning him against a table.
“Thank you,” said George to no one in particular.
“What will you do now?” Richard asked.
George shrugged, leaning a little too far forward. Someone pushed him back, this time pulling out a chair for him.
“Thank you. What were you saying, Richie?”
“What will you do now? Your daughter needs to be married, or she will suffer ridicule for the rest of her life.”
He couldn’t let that happen; Anna would never forgive him. I have to do right by our daughter even if she disagrees with me.
“She’s stubborn, she is,” he admitted. “But I’m stubborn, too. Do you know how much she has embarrassed me in front of others? Her reputation is terrible; I tell you! Terrible. Everyone thinks her a madwoman; no one knows how intelligent she is. But I know,” he said, stabbing his chest. “My daughter has excelled in everything but society. She likes to be with the servants more than her own kind.”
That was his fault, but he didn’t say that. He had neglected his daughter, and now he was paying the price for it.
“What are your options, old fellow?” Alexander questioned. “I’m sorry, but you don’t seem to have much left.”
George scratched his chin, or was it his cheek? He wasn’t sure. “Yes, you are quite right, Alex. No one wants to marry her. My last hope had been the vicar, but he too refused to marry her.”
He didn’t say anything about how his daughter had repelled the mellow man. He had never seen the vicar behave so animatedly. Usually, the man was calm and mild. I suppose seeing my daughter in men’s garments was too much for him to handle. George had been shocked himself, never expecting his daughter to have the audacity to do such a thing. He had to admire her resolve to stick to her decision, although it wasn’t doing her any good.
“The vicar?” Richard asked. “Goodness gracious! You surely were desperate.”
“He is the youngest son of a baron,” George said, defending his choice.
“Well, that’s that, old fellow,” said Richard, slapping his shoulder. “You might as well accept that your daughter will be a spinster. What a terrible fate for such a beautiful woman.”
A spinster? Oh, no, no, no, he couldn’t have that. I would never be able to die in peace. At least if she has a husband, he will take care of her when I am gone. He didn’t intend to die any time soon, but life was full of unexpected twists and turns. What do I do now, Anna? I am failing you and our daughter. Desperation clawed at him, searing his conscience. I have to get her married!
“If she won’t marry one of our kind, then I’ll marry her off to a commoner to get her off my hands!”
No, wait. Did he really mean that? A commoner? She might as well be a spinster!
“I will marry your daughter, Lord Leeds.”
“Eh? Who said that?”
George craned his neck this way and that, pulling his head back when a figure came into his view. He opened his eyes wide and narrowed them repeatedly, trying to make out the stranger.
“And who are you?”
“Carlos Fernandez.”
“I know that name,” he said more to himself, his mind a tad fuzzy.
“Did you mean what you said, My Lord? Will you allow your daughter to marry a commoner?”
“Well, uh ...”
He had said that, but he hadn’t truly meant it. But maybe this is her only chance to be married.
“Suppose I do. What is it to you, Carlos Fernandez? Do you indeed wish to marry my daughter?”
The man smiled, his white teeth glinting in the dimly lit room. “I would not say it if it were not true. Richard will vouch for me in saying that I am not a man who speaks idly.”
Richard knew this man? He must be something if he can call Richard by his first name. Was he really going through with this? I can hardly see the man, let alone remember precisely who he is. Perhaps I should wait.
“Your daughter will be in good hands, George,” said Richard. “If you truly mean that you will accept a commoner as your son-in-law, then look no further than Carlos. He is a better man than most I have come across in my life.”
“You think so highly of him?”
“I do.”
George tilted his head, closing one eye as he looked the young man up and down. He is not distasteful to look at; he is far more handsome than the suitors I had chosen. Perhaps Aurora will be happier with him being a commoner.
“Very well, I accept.”
“I need more than your word, My Lord,” the man said. “What if you should forget about what you just said?”
Impertinent fellow! Was his word not good enough? No, don’t anger him. Agree to whatever he asks for.
“What is it you want?”
“A written word signed by you and witnessed by Richard. Your ring as well. These should be enough to secure your word.”
George wasn’t entirely happy with giving up his ring, but the man assured him that he would get it back. A piece of paper was dug out of a pocket, and signatures added to a brief declaration of a marriage between Aurora Stafford and Carlos Fernandez. All the while, he felt odd, as though he wasn’t quite in his body. Everything is blurry.
“Shall we shake on it, My Lord?”
