George squinched his face and seemed to play dumb. “I would not know. And Father just wanted me to ask casually.”
“Then he is not seriously interested?”
“Wouldn’t say that… But… he was thinking three hundred might be a fair offer and he might be interested at that price.”
Thomas gave a hoot of laughter. “Three hundred? That would be just about what it costs to stable her. It is clear to me he really is not seriously interested.”
“Well, hold on now, old friend. He said he might just go to five under the right circumstances.”
“And what would those circumstances be?” Thomas asked, loving the bargaining.
George rubbed his chin again and feigned deep thought. “Well, it would depend on how she does at Epson.”
Thomas stood resolute. “I could not see letting her go for less than a thousand.”
“Oh…”
“And if she does well at Epson, the price goes to fifteen hundred. So, if your father is serious, he had better act fast. Epson is coming up before you know it.”
They looked at each other and broke into laughter. They knew each other too well to take this silly game seriously.
“Did Willoughby offer you tea?”
“He did, but I declined,” George said, “I heard you were in London recently.”
“I just returned. How did you hear about that?”
“I might have heard it from Helena.”
“Oh, have you seen her recently?”
“I believe we crossed paths in the village recently. I hardly remember.”
Thomas studied him. He could usually tell when George was not replying with a straight answer, and he said, “I need to pay her a call. She came by when I was away and left me a note. I owe her a visit in any event.”
“Well, tell her I say hello. It has been so long since I saw her last.”
“Did you not just tell me you met in the village?”
The guilty expression on George’s face gave him away, but he brushed off the mistake. “Oh, yes. But it was so brief as not to be a real conversation.”
“Hmm,” Thomas said.
George became animated and slapped his walking stick in his hand. “I should be going. I have a few other errands to attend to. It was wonderful seeing you again. I hope you will be at Pemberton for a while.”
“I expect to be. Perhaps we can go for a ride some afternoon that does not threaten rain.”
“I should like that.”
“And if your father is serious about the mare let me know.”
George smiled. “I shall pass along your message to him.”
Chapter 3
Wilcox Mowbray, the Earl of Denham, had a modest estate in Gloucestershire, but he resided mostly in London. His Lordship was a gentleman in his early fifties. And though he kept a trim figure, he had lost a great deal of his sandy hair—his face was sallow and sagging, and he had a lazy eye that was most disconcerting if he trained it on you in a confrontation.
He spent a great many evenings at his town club playing cards with some of the regular players. However, as Mowbray was preparing to leave the club one afternoon, the club’s chairman stepped away from his office and, with a stern expression, stood before His Lordship.
“Your Lordship, if we might have a few words…” He gestured with his hand for Wilcox to precede him into his office. Wilcox obliged.
The Chairman went to his desk and offered Wilcox a chair opposite. He then picked up a statement and offered it to his guest.
“As you can see, you are more than several months behind on your dues and fees. Your Lordship, I thought this might be the perfect time for you to settle your account.” He paused and stared intently at the Earl.
Wilcox shifted in his chair, slowly placed the statement on the desk and folded his hands atop his walking stick. Unfazed by the situation, he said, “Of course, I shall be happy to take care of it in the next few days.”
“We accept cheques, My Lord.”
“I never carry a chequebook with me, I am afraid,” he said with a tight smile.
The Chairman removed his pince-nez, wiped them with his handkerchief, replaced them on his nose, and gazed once more on Wilcox.
“There are one or two other matters…”
“Oh?”
“Several club members have spoken to me about your… obligations…”
Preferring not to make this easy on the Chairman, Wilcox asked, “Obligations?”
“We are all gentlemen at this club, as you are well aware.”
“Of course.”
“And it is customary, when a gentleman has an obligation—to have it discharged as soon as possible.”
“I quite understand.”
The Chairman paused allowing His Lordship to make an offer. But His Lordship chose not to.
“And although the club’s policy is to prohibit gambling… it is… more often than not, a rule that is breached, than is strictly observed. It seems the majority of our members indulge, from time to time, and the board chooses to turn a blind eye to the matter.”
“How progressive of the board.”
Again, the Chairman paused. “And that being said, several members have complained to me about the fact that you have accumulated a number of gaming debts that remain to be satisfied.”
“Ah… I quite understand, and I shall speak with each of the gentlemen in question.”
That seemed to please the Chairman, and he smiled. “Excellent. Then we shall expect your remittance to us in the next few days for your dues and fees, and I shall leave the matter of the…other obligations in your hands for satisfaction.”
Wilcox stood and said, “What an absolutely capital idea.” He placed his hat on his head and strode out of the office.
Claudia and Jenny, as the elder of the four children, were naturally drawn together as close friends as well as sisters.
Claudia had recently had a spurt in growth and, as a result, she was as lean and sinewy as a reed growing along the bank of a river. Her long brown hair she kept in tight braids rolled around the sides of her head to keep it from falling around her face as she worked. Jenny had no idea what her sister would grow into, but right now she had the potential to be a handsome woman as she grew and filled out.
When Jenny had her pies in the oven, she would often grab Claudia by the hand, and they would escape out the back door of the bakery. And often, in the summer, they would sit together, catch a breath, and share a peach, a plum, or whatever fresh fruit Jenny was making pies with that day.
One late morning, as Jenny was paring a peach to share, Claudia asked, “How come you do not have a beau yet, Jenny?”
Jenny stopped to think about that. “Not met a lad who appeals to me yet. The local boys all seem so… boyish. And the young men seem to be so… uninterested in anything other than games and ogling us lasses as we stroll the street.”
Claudia hung her head and smiled. “Well, there is one…”
Jenny turned to her. “You have found yourself a young man? Who is he?”
“Jeremiah Wisdom, the vicar’s son. You know him, do you not?”
“I know Jeremiah. He seems like a fine young man. How long have you two been meeting?”
“Not long. We stopped at the Penny Farthing Market and had a few words. Then he stopped me on the way out of church last few Sundays and we chatted a little more before Mama pulled me away.”
“Why not invite him to supper some evening?” Jenny asked and passed a few slices of peach to Claudia.
Claudia looked at her sister with a pleading look. “Will you speak to Mama for me about him? I cannot seem to get up the nerve.”
Jenny wagged her head. “Oh, Claudia, I do not know… It seems like something you should do. She needs to see your enthusiasm for this young man herself. I know she will think well of you if you have the courage of your convictions.”
“You may be right,” she answered then nibbled on a slice of peach. “But you truly fan
cy no young man yourself?”
Jenny scratched her head. “It is not so much that there are no suitable young men as much as I have a dream. Do not get me wrong… I love our village, but I want… I do not know what. But I want… more. I cannot put it into words exactly. But I see fine ladies and gentlemen walking about the village from time to time and I… I want to be like them. I want to make something of myself.”
“But we are just common folk, Jenny. What can we hope to accomplish?”
Jenny put her hands between her knees and considered. “I have always thought I could be a fine pastry cook one day. I might never be an aristocrat, but I could meet and serve them someday. How lovely it would be to live in a fine house… even as a cook. It is a worthy profession and I believe I am good at what I do and have every expectation of being successful.”
“I have no such ambition,” Claudia said. “I just want to be a wife and have a family. That is quite enough for me.”
“What does Jeremiah want to do with his life?” Jenny asked.
Claudia turned to her and smiled. “He is to go to university. He wants to be a cleric like his father. Then we should be able to have our own parish and have a nice living.”
“And he has discussed this possibility with you already?”
“It has come up… more or less.”
“Then you are really serious about each other?”
Claudia nodded. “I best talk to Mama about inviting him to supper, then. Think you not?”
“Most certainly. But we should miss you if you left us.”
“But it will not happen soon. He still has his studies, and I would hate to leave until the other children are grown and take over more of the responsibility in the shop.”
Jenny patted her sister’s arm. “You might be the first of us to marry, dearest.”
Claudia blushed. “It seems rude of me to get married before you do. I shall pray that you find the perfect gentleman to marry you before me.”
Helena had not yet informed her father of her interest in George Edgerton. In fact, they had not told anyone—except for Helena confiding in Jenny. But Jenny was closer to her than any other person except for dear George, and Helena knew her confidence was safe with Jenny.
Helena lived with her father and mother at Springford Manor—not more than a ten-minute carriage ride from Chatsworth, but a good thirty minutes’ walk—which Helena often took when she had errands in the village. Certainly, they had staff for such errands, but Helena was an independent spirit, and she liked the walk and the activity—not to mention she enjoyed chatting with the shopkeepers and the villagers. And she always had an excuse to stop in and visit with Jenny, even if but briefly.
Helena was quite accomplished at the pianoforte and took it upon herself to find time to practice almost every day. Today she was hunched over, studying the sheet music and trying to master a particularly difficult passage, when Benton, their butler, came into the music room.
“Miss Helena, Mr. George Edgerton has called for you. Will you see him?”
Helena was at first a little annoyed at having her practice interrupted, but the thought of seeing George cheered her up and she said, “Yes, please show him to the map room and tell Bridget to order tea and join us.”
Bridget was Helena’s older married sister who was visiting from Bristol with her husband and three children. Helena’s mother never liked being disturbed in the afternoon when she was accustomed to her nap, so it was necessary for Helena to call upon her sister to chaperone.
Helena threw her summer shawl over her shoulders, left the music room and headed to where George would be waiting for her.
“Dearest George,” she greeted, “were you driving by?”
“No, dearest, I came specifically to see you. I have not been able to take my mind off you these past few days since we missed seeing each other at your Aunt Rosemary’s.”
“How sweet you are.” She went over and allowed George to kiss her on the cheek.
At that moment Bridget came into the map room with her basket of toys, accompanied by two of her children—a young girl and slightly older boy.
“I have ordered the tea,” Bridget said, finding a comfortable chair and doling out the toys to her progeny. “Good afternoon, George,” she said, taking up a novel she had in her housecoat pocket.
Bridget looked older than her three-and-thirty years. But that was partially because she dressed so severely. She wore a dark brown, rather shapeless dress and a matron’s cap that covered her dark hair. She turned to her children and said, “Now, play quietly. We must not disturb your Aunt Helena and her friend.” She looked up at her sister. “Carry on,” she said and turned to her reading.
No one in the family thought of George as anything other than a family friend and had no idea they were secretly courting.
George and Helena drifted to the far end of the room where they could speak more privately. They sat in a window seat and stared out at the parkland surrounding the estate with its wide sweeping vistas of open fields and woodland.
George seemed suddenly morose and silent, so Helena spoke up. “Dearest, I have been working on a piece of music I think you will particularly like. It is a piece by Handel, but it has the most difficult trills and, I have to say, I have been struggling with them.”
“I am sorry to hear that. But I look forward to when you can play it for me, for I do love Handel’s music in particular.” But having responded, he hung his head again.
“Is something bothering you?” she asked placing her hand briefly on his.
He looked up at her with pleading eyes. “My very dearest, you know how much I love you and how my heart aches when we are not together. And it hurts me so that I can speak to no one about us. Only yesterday, I visited Thomas again and felt so constrained that I could not share with him my joy in loving you.”
They had had words about this matter previously, but Helena reminded him, “You know father’s position. He absolutely insists that Thomas and I marry. But Thomas and I are both in agreement that that is an impossibility.”
“But why should that restrict us from telling him? I trust him not to tell your father as I am certain you do, as well.”
“Yes, but it would be so easy for the information about us to slip out, and father would be furious. Then he could keep us from ever meeting again. As it is now, he does not suspect, and we are able to meet like this as friends.”
George stood up and began to pace, running his hands through his hair. He turned to her and said, “Step outside with me onto the terrace. I feel the need for fresh air,” then he whispered, “and a little more privacy.” He nodded towards Bridget.
Helena stood and said to her sister, “We are going outside on the terrace for a little air. We shall come in when tea is ready.”
“Very well but keep close by.”
They opened the French doors and stepped onto the terrace and stood to gaze over the landscape.
“I am sorry, I just do not understand your father’s position,” George said, taking Helena’s hand, bringing it to his lips, and kissing it.
She pulled away and took a few steps backward. “Oh, George, he is a fanatic royalist and insists I must marry no lower than an Earl. But he has his sights set on Thomas and me marrying because he is a Duke and he knows that we are old friends and sees us as the perfect match.”
“But I know that Thomas is having money difficulties. He has confided in me about the fact.”
“Yes, he has told me as well.”
“Then your father must also know that I am the eldest son and, although my father is not titled, he runs a very fine estate with sheep, wool, grains and a very substantial variety of profitable other crops. I will inherit the estate, and we shall be well set as landed gentry.”
Helena’s head drooped. “I wish that were enough for him, but I am afraid it is not. He insists on a title.
“And what has your mother to say about such matters?”
“Poor Ma
ma is not in the best of health and defers to him on all matters regarding the family.”
George began pacing again. “It is so unfair. My darling, how are we ever to solve this problem?”
“It would seem to me the solution would be to find Thomas another wife. If he was married he would no longer be available and Father just might consider us as a viable couple.”
George sighed, “Then he would just go hunting for a new nobleman for you to marry.”
“Perhaps. But by then, I might have been able to weaken his resolve.”
Benton appeared at the terrace doors. “Miss Helena, tea is served.”
Chapter 4
Thomas had seen the carriage approaching Pemberton from the driveway leading to the main entrance. He recognized the coach as his uncle’s and went to the door to welcome him.
“I was not expecting you, Uncle,” Thomas said.
“I had some business at my estate so thought I would stop by for a visit on my way. I trust Mother is well?”
“Sharp as ever and I am certain she will be happy to see you,” Thomas said welcoming his uncle inside. Uncle handed his hat and walking stick to Willoughby. “Do you wish to see Grandmamma now?”
Wilcox hesitated then said, “I should like to have a word with you first—if you are free?”
“Of course. Come into the library.”
Entering the library, Wilcox headed directly to the side table and poured himself a generous whiskey. He turned, raised his glass to Thomas, and asked, “Might I pour you one, as well, Nephew?”
“Not for me, thank you.” Thomas went to his desk and studied some papers and a ledger before saying, “I wanted to speak to you as well, Uncle. It is most convenient that you stopped by. But you speak first.”
Taking his drink with him, Wilcox walked along one wall of the library as if examining the titles of the many shelved books. He finally turned to Thomas and raised his glass, once again, to his nephew.
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