by Rebecca King
“Still not enough,” Myles replied with a shake of his head. “I would rather marry the horse.” He filled his tankard up and took a sip. “I think the odds are that someone is going to marry over the course of this year. It won’t be me. My father and I have had a chat about this matter on many occasions. He has made it plain that his highly unsuccessful marriage to my mother has left him unable to support pushing me to wed someone I have no interest in. He understands my need to be my own man and, while he would prefer an heir to continue the family name, there are plenty of men in the family who would take over the reins as it were.” He leaned back with an arrogant grin and folded his hands behind his head as he studied his friends, whom he knew were not in such a comfortable position. “I am happy to take any bet you wish to put forth, and shall take my winnings with alacrity.”
“You shall crow for the following year if you win, and you know it,” Sam chided. “But don’t just condemn me as weak and foolish just because I surrender to my father’s machinations. His disabilities are what gives me a likening to agree to his requests. They haven’t strayed into finding a bride yet because my father knows it would take my time, and me, away from helping him. I have also made my aversion to marriage perfectly clear to him, and he has not argued one bit. So, I think it is safe to say that I shall be the one never to be dragged up the aisle to sign myself over.”
His smirk was arrogant as they all turned their attention on Elijah.
Elijah huffed a laugh but struggled to contain the urge to tug on his collar. He wasn’t in either position and knew it. However, he did have choices. Inwardly, his affection had been taken by a ghost from his past; someone he had loved and recklessly lost several years previously and he suspected his friends knew it. The last he had heard of the lady in question was that she had moved many miles away, but nobody knew where. Unfortunately, she had taken a piece of him with her, and it was something he knew would prevent him from saying the necessary words to anybody that would cement his life, but never his affection, to someone else.
“Not me,” he sighed. “Sorry, but I am already taken, and my family know it.”
“WHAT?” Everyone cried in unison.
Elijah waved them back down, especially Sam, who launched out of his seat and began to roll his sleeves up as though he would flush out the miscreant who dared steal his friend and race her back to her parents, out of the way of any matrimonial danger.
“I don’t care for any woman enough to wed – ever – it is as simple as that, and my parents know it,” he said quietly.
An air of amiability and quiet understanding settled over everyone as they each dealt with their memories of that difficult time when they had had to pick their friend up, brush him off, and force him to continue to walk a path with only a few pieces of his life intact. It had been a troubling time for all of them, not least Elijah, who had never been the same since.
“You could still find someone who could capture your attention and sweep you off your feet,” Rufus murmured quietly. “It isn’t impossible. It did happen many years ago. It may not be as bad as you think – not until you meet someone new who can prove you wrong.”
Elijah shook his head with an adamant determination that made it clear he wasn’t going to be budged on the issue.
“Never,” he said flatly.
They all knew then that was why Elijah had made the bet in the first place, because he was the least likely of them all to marry.
The rest of them looked at each other. Each man knew that they couldn’t, and wouldn’t, refuse the bet if everyone was serious. They all turned their attention on Robard and Rufus, the only two, as far as everyone was concerned, had no such ghosts from the past or understanding relatives.
“I have made my intentions clear to my family, and have not been back to the estate for several months now. I have no intention of returning either,” Robard replied.
He ignored the guilt that plagued him at having ignored several letters from his parents pleading with him to visit. He knew they would not fail to try to pressure him into taking over the albatross of the family seat should he succumb and do as they requested. Unfortunately, he had witnessed first-hand his father’s daily struggle to manage estate, and a harridan of a wife, whilst constantly entertaining and being dragged up and down the country to meet with various ‘acquaintances’, most of whom he didn’t like. It was all done to please his wife, and feed her constant need to social climb.
There was no possibility Robard would ever put himself in the same, or similar situation for his parents, or a bride. He knew, even if his father wouldn’t accept it, that the estate was dying rapidly; there being far too many things to fix and not enough money left after socialising with which to fix them. His father had spent his life looking after said estate, but it had drained him just as much as it had depleted his finances. As such, he wasn’t the vibrant, barrel-chested, boisterous man he had once been. Instead, his father was a hollowed out shell of someone he once was who was apt to go along with his wife’s dictates just to shut her up.
“I have my own home and have no interest in taking over the family estate. That can go to any cousin stupid enough to take it on because I certainly don’t want it,” he murmured.
Indeed, he had amassed his own wealth from nothing using his own intellect, connections, and financial dexterity. It had been possible because of his lack of a demanding wife and family. He suspected his family didn’t know about his fortune. That had been kept entirely private and would remain so.
“Have you been back at all?” Sam asked quietly.
Robard shook his head. “As soon as I answer their summons, I have little doubt that my mother will begin to click her fingers and expect me to go chasing after her like my father does. I won’t allow it. I won’t put myself at anybody else’s beck and call.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Rufus murmured, lifting his tankard toward Robard in a silent toast.
“So, what are the stakes?” Myles asked. “I think it is only fair that we all put something in. That way, if all of us win, and nobody marries, we just take back what we put in. That’s fair. If someone loses, then they hand over whatever they put in to those who are left. The last man standing at the end of the year gets the lot.”
“I will hand over fifty guineas,” Robard announced quietly.
“That’s a Hell of a lot of money,” Rufus murmured. “Are you really that confident you can win?”
“I know I can,” Robard declared with an air of confidence that made everyone grin.
“The navy is my mistress,” Rufus declared loudly. “I am the most likely to win given that I am likely to be at sea for several months at a time. I know I have a good crew, but I don’t find any of them appealing enough to marry.”
They all groaned because they knew this would give Rufus an unfair advantage.
“Yes, but every woman loves a sailor,” Myles retorted. “You have said so yourself on many occasions. I know many of the women you meet when you first come ashore are tavern doxies and women you wouldn’t marry. However, you have to go home at some point, you know. Those women fall for a man in uniform, you know they do. All it needs is one determined mama, and you will get captured.”
“Yes, but the uniform also stands in their way. I use my seafaring nature as a reason never to wed,” he replied knowingly. “I make it clear to all and sundry that the sea is my mistress, I am away from home for months, even years at a time, and have no interest in curbing my wanderlust. It generally puts them off.” He sigh a smug smile of self-satisfaction. “No, gentlemen, I am afraid that on this occasion you are all doomed to failure. I am the one able to avoid matrimony quite easily. I can go out to sea, and am doing so in just a few weeks as a matter of fact.”
“When will you be back?” Myles asked, unsure now if the odds were all that fair.
“We will be away for about four months. We have a special job to do,” he replied carefully.
Myles read that closed expre
ssion on Rufus' face and knew his friend would tell them more if he could. Deciding not to press, he shook his head.
“I am afraid you are too arrogant, my friend,” Myles murmured. He threw his friend a smirk. “You see, I know that you only just managed to avoid the careful calculation of a determined matchmaker not but a few weeks ago. That Smallsworthy chit?”
Rufus’ groan said it all. He smiled in spite of himself and shook his head ruefully. “I narrowly avoided that one.”
“If it wasn’t for the fast talking of my father, you would be the one married today,” Myles informed him tartly.
Rufus didn’t deny it.
“Rumour has it that they still haven’t given up hope of persuading you – in any way they can,” Myles informed him. He hid his grin behind his ale cup when Rufus choked on his. A determined glint lit his friend’s eyes.
“No way in Hell,” Rufus growled.
“Still think you can win?” Myles taunted, his grin widening when Rufus squinted at him with a teasing hint of seafaring determination in his eye.
“I know I can,” Rufus smirked.
Myles leaned forward and squinted back. “I am going to put down my Scottish lodge into the pot then,” he drawled.
“Are you sure?” Elijah asked.
“It’s a beautiful place,” Sam added.
“I won it in a bet, don’t forget. It seems fitting that I should risk losing it in a bet. I have only been there once or twice in the past three years anyways. It is more of a one bedroom shepherd’s hut, but it has good hunting nearby,” Myles shrugged. “I don’t mind losing it, should any of you actually beat me, which I sincerely doubt.”
Rufus grinned. “I will put my new curricle into the pot.”
“Well, you are at sea most of the time,” Sam retorted. “It is a shame for it to sit there and rot away quietly. It is best that it comes to me. I will use it the way it should be used.”
Rufus snorted but didn’t deign to answer, mainly because he knew his friend was right.
“Top of the range vehicle that,” Robard murmured with a nod. “Are you sure you want to lose it?”
Rufus grinned unconcernedly. “I can afford another,” he replied with confidence.
Indeed he could. His friends didn’t know it but he had amassed a vast wealth over the course of his time in the navy, partly from inheritance, and partly from self-made earnings and wise investment. He could afford whatever he wanted whenever he was on dry land. Unfortunately, when he was on dry land the only thing he wanted was to be back out at sea again. It was in his blood; his life; his being; his entire soul really, he couldn’t deny it. As such, he didn’t need a woman, well, in any way beyond a physical need.
Sam sighed heavily. He knew the stakes were high and had to come up with something of equal value if only to indicate to his friends that he was just as determined not to lose.
“Well, I don’t know what I can add to the pot,” Sam announced dolefully. He frowned thoughtfully but couldn’t clear his muddled thoughts enough to find anything of equal value.
Elijah nodded, not least because he too was struggling to find something.
Myles and Robard grinned at each other.
“You can throw in your annual subscription to Brookes’s. It’s worth about ten guineas,” Myles murmured. “Given there is a waiting list to that place, the value far exceeds its cost.”
Elijah nodded and sat back in his seat. “Of course, you can cover the entrance fee yourselves should you decide to use it. I never shall.”
All eyes turned to Sam, whose financial position was far more precarious than everyone else’s and they all knew it.
“You can throw in a twenty-five percent share in that brewery you have just inherited. That is work out about the same as the subscription to Brookes’s,” Elijah murmured. “The brewery needs work, I know, but the profits can be built up,” He lifted his tankard. “It does produce ale, and we all know how profitable that is.”
Sam nodded. If he was honest, the brewery was something he had been avoiding having to deal with since he had inherited it several weeks back. It seemed yet another burden that would take him away from home for several months, at a time when his father needed him at home to look after the family seat as well.
“Alright then,” he said, nodding with increased enthusiasm. “As long as you are prepared to help put the work into making it a going concern then I can see no problem with that.”
“I know my curricle is the lesser amount, but it is bespoke and has the finest handcrafted leather seating arrangement,” Rufus added.
“It’s a wonderful contrivance,” Elijah enthused.
Everyone nodded their agreement and held their tankards aloft in a toast.
“Right, well the bet is on then. Whoever marries loses. The last man standing in say, a year from now, is the one who wins the lot. A fortune, a hunting lodge, shares in a brewery, a new curricle, and an annual subscription to Brookes’s. Agreed?”
A chorus of cheers went up, accompanied by the clinking of the men’s tankards as they toasted the agreement. In unison, the men took long sips of their ale before they all grinned at each other and burst out laughing.
Before anybody could say anything, the barmaid tapped Myles on the shoulder.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but someone left this at the bar for you. They said to tell you it was urgent.” She handed Myles a carefully folded piece of parchment.
“That’s odd. It doesn’t have a seal,” Sam murmured with a frown.
They all fell silent while Myles read the note. Their concern grew when Myles froze. All trace of colour drained from his face, which became stark with disbelief.
“Good God, is this a joke?” he cried a few moments later. He threw the note onto the table and drained the dregs of his tankard. The urge to pour himself another drink and down that too was strong, but he knew he needed to keep his wits about him, especially given that he now needed to drive home.
“This can’t be right,” Elijah murmured once he had read the note and passed it to Sam.
“It has to be,” Sam replied. “Why would anybody send something like that as a joke?”
“I don’t understand it,” Myles said. “He was perfectly alright when I left him. He can’t have taken ill and deteriorated that quickly in three days, surely to goodness?”
Rufus snorted and threw the note back into the centre of the table where they all stared at it for several moments.
“Well, it is a pretty cruel joke. I cannot see anybody going to the time and trouble of doing such a thing for a laugh. It is without merit. It has to be true. It is signed by your uncle, Myles.” Sam’s finger tapped on the signature.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Elijah offered. “I can drive part of the way if you like. I don’t have anything else to do.”
“No thanks. I don’t know what I am going to find when I get there. Knowing my lot, the whole house will be in chaos and hardly fit for company. No, I had better be on my way.” Myles stood and ignored the swaying of the room as he drew on his cloak. “I had better hurry.”
“If you have your curricle here, I can close your lodgings down for you. I am sure you have everything you need back at home,” Rufus suggested.
“Please, if you would tell Mrs Hargreaves that I won’t be back for a couple of months,” Myles replied absently. His mind was blank; unable to move on from the devastating news that his father had taken ill and was now at death’s door. It was difficult to comprehend that his father needed him right now, and was so very far way.
“You must hurry,” Sam urged. “From the sound of that note, his condition is dire.”
Myles nodded. He didn’t need to read the note again. It was etched on his mind as if burned there for all eternity.
“I must go,” he murmured. Before he left the table he swept the note up and shoved it into his pocket. He had no idea why he felt the need to keep it with him but he did.
“You must let us know what ha
ppens,” Rufus called and stood to shake his hand before Myles swept out of the tavern.
Silence fell amongst the rest of them as they watched the door swing closed behind their friend.
CHAPTER TWO
Estelle hummed a little tune as she picked another apple off the tree and dropped it into her basket. The sun shone warmly on her through the branches high above, and made her smile. For the first time in a while, she could honestly say that she was content, well, content(ish), with her lot in life. It was a relief to be free of the burden of the past for a while.
“It is difficult to believe that there might be anything wrong with these woods,” she breathed as she tipped her head back and absorbed that precious warmth.
Every sense was tuned to the flora and fauna that rustled gently in the slight breeze that teased her cheeks and tugged at the branches high above. It was wonderful; and not the least bit frightening.
Don’t go near those Whistling Woods, and if you aren’t back by tea you can cook for yourself, do you hear? Her grandma had warned before she had left the house.
But why, Estelle had no idea. The woods were thick, and aged, but no less sinister than any woods Estelle had ventured into as a child.
“It’s Grandma being Grandma,” she mused aloud.
Her relation had a tendency to apply old sayings and folklore to any given situation; weather, people’s characteristics, all sorts of things. If there was an adage to be found, Wynne would find it. While it was to be expected in a small, fishing village where lives were ruled by the weather, superstition, and the sea, it was curious the way that her grandma always saw problems where there didn’t appear to be any; like now.
“I think this is the Whispering Woods,” Estelle murmured, but heard no whistling within them, even though they were woods. There was also nothing lurking in the leafy confines to be afraid of. In fact, they were really rather pleasant. The large pile of succulent apples she had gathered was rather wonderful and were a bounty of nature no sinister woods would provide, she was sure of it. Still, if she lingered much longer her grandma would start to worry, and would chide her when she got home.
