Elizabeth thought back to her conversation with him all those years ago, of a partner who was working against the bank along with one of the clerks. She wished she knew what had come of that situation. Was either of them still within the bank, other Brutus-like turncoats working against her? The problem was, she had no idea who she could trust, who she could ask. Perhaps her grandmother might know.
“There are two partners who I wish to remove,” she said, and the four heads swiveled back toward her, each man clearly uncomfortable with her words.
“Will these partners be replaced?” Mr. Larkin asked.
“They will,” she confirmed. “I will name the replacements in due time. We will first deal with the dismissal. Tell me, what is the protocol?”
They outlined the procedure for her. She would first draw up a written dismissal, then meet with the partners in question to provide it to them or send it by messenger if a meeting was impossible. All of the bank’s partners would then need to be informed of the decision and sign the final paperwork for it to become official. In the meantime, the clerks would draw up the necessary documentation.
“If the partners are being replaced,” Mr. Larkin continued, “The partnership passes on to the replacements. If not, then we must determine how the appropriate shares will be allotted to each remaining partner.”
“Thank you, Mr. Larkin,” she said. “That is all very straightforward.”
Mr. Bates cleared his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable. “This could cause some discord, Lady Elizabeth. In no way do I mean to question your decision, however, I simply want to ensure you are aware that it could have some unfortunate questions come upon the bank.”
“I understand that, Mr. Bates,” she said with a nod of her head. But no longer would Elizabeth be afraid, be unwilling to do what she knew would be the right decision because of what others may think. She had done what she thought was right for the bank, had stayed true to the course and been the woman all expected her to be, and look where that had gotten her—rid of two clients whose business she sorely needed. “This must go ahead regardless.”
“Understood.”
“Very well,” she said, rising. “Thank you all for your attendance this afternoon, and for your wise counsel as always. Mr. Brant,” she looked over to her secretary, who had been sitting to the side of the meeting, taking notes for her—which was actually quite helpful, she realized, to not have to make notes for herself, allowing her to concentrate on the meeting at hand. “Please arrange two meetings for me. One with Mr. Clarke, and the other with the Duke of Clarence.”
This time she actually heard audible gasps resound around the room.
“My lady…” she heard one of the clerks say, but she refused to provide any explanation. She was the senior partner, was she not? Therefore, she could make the decision without having to explain herself.
“Are you able to do so, Mr. Brant?”
The young employee had turned very white, but he nodded mutely.
“Very good,” she said, gathering her papers in hand and striding to the door. “And a good day to you all.”
*
Henry came that very day. Gabriel, it seemed, was far too busy to speak with her.
“Thank you for coming, Henry,” she said as he took a seat.
“Of course, Elizabeth,” he smiled. “I hope the news I shared with you the other day was not too distressing. I felt it was important that you were aware.”
“Yes, I am sure that was the case,” she said, picking up her quill pen and looking down at the paper in front of her, in effect to tell Henry that her conversation with him was not altogether important. “Henry, I asked you here for another reason, entirely, however. As you know, I am the senior partner of the bank, which affords me some powers and responsibilities which are over and above those of the other partners.”
“I am aware,” he said, his voice and his smile dropping.
“One of those powers is the ability to name or dismiss partners,” she said. “And so, I am effectively dismissing you as one of the bank’s partners. Immediately. Here is the letter of confirmation. Your dismissal will be official upon the next partners’ meeting.”
He stared at her in shock.
“I would ask you now to leave,” she said with the slightest of smiles, as though she were dismissing him after a congenial tea together.
“You cannot be rid of me!” he said, his face distorting to one of anger.
“Actually,” she returned, maintaining calm, “I can.”
Rage stretched across his face, but instead of feeling any sort of threat or fear, it was as though a great weight had been lifted off of Elizabeth’s shoulders and was now floating away, up over the bookshelves, to the ceiling, and out of the room completely. She should have done this ages ago.
“If you do this, Elizabeth,” Henry seethed. “You will be ruined. Ruined, I tell you! You, and this damn bank.”
“I do not think it is appropriate to swear in front of ladies, Henry,” Elizabeth said, the smile across her face real now. “You were raised better than that.”
“Were you not raised to be a genteel lady, one who knew her place?” He asked, standing now, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke.
“I was,” she confirmed, standing herself but taking a step backward to put space between them. “I do know my place. It is here, in this bank, where our grandfather believed I would fit. Where you certainly do not.”
“You do not want all to know of Mr. Mortimer’s condition, do you?”
“I do not,” she confirmed. “But nor do you—for then others would know how dishonestly you came by your partnership. It would only show how prudent and protective we are of those we consider to be like family.”
“I shall tell your mother!”
“Go ahead and do so, if you choose.”
“Who are you, Elizabeth?”
“I am the senior partner of Clarke & Co.,” she said proudly. “An establishment of which you, Henry, will no longer be a part. Now please leave my office, or I will ask the clerks to help you do so.”
Scowling, he turned to leave, but then with one motion, he turned back around, sweeping an arm across her desk in anger, knocking over not only all of the papers that filled it but also her quill pen set—the one that Gabriel had given her. As she watched the ink slowly leak out of the well, she froze, staring at the liquid, which reminded her of her own relationship with him, spilling all over the floor.
Elizabeth didn’t even realize that Henry had left or that Mr. Brant had come rushing in to ensure that all was well.
“Lady Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, bringing her out of her reverie as he rushed over to tidy the mess Henry had created. “Are you all right?”
“I am, Mr. Brant, thank you,” she said, bending now. “Here, let me help.”
She picked up the pen set, running her finger over the inscription that Gabriel had commissioned, causing the ache in her heart, the one she thought she had defeated, to begin anew.
Once all was righted, Mr. Brant cleaned up the ink, which thankfully had spilled only on the wooden floor below, missing the carpet entirely.
“I received word from the Duke of Clarence, Lady Elizabeth,” he said. “It seems he is indisposed and will not be able to meet with you for the foreseeable future.”
“Very well,” Elizabeth said, somewhat relieved that she didn’t have to see Gabriel again, though she realized how cowardly she was behaving. “Please send him the necessary documentation.”
Mr. Brant nodded, smartly turned on his heel, and left. While Henry’s termination had left Elizabeth feeling free, letting Gabriel go was heavy on her heart. But she couldn’t see him again, couldn’t have him remain such an intricate part of her life. For every time she thought of him, it was as though she had been stabbed in the chest. This was the one instance in which she would allow emotion to rule her. Others may criticize her for it, but it was what she had to do.
Elizebeth had to move on. An
d that meant cutting Gabriel from her life completely.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gabriel took the piece of paper between both of his hands and ripped it down the middle before throwing it into the fire licking at the grate in his study.
Dismiss him as a partner? What was Elizabeth thinking?
It was one thing to turn him away as a suitor, as a man. But to be rid of him as a partner in the bank was utterly foolhardy. All she was doing was proving others right—that a woman could be far too overcome by emotion to make the proper business decisions.
But as he sat there, staring into the flames that overtook the paper, he put himself in her place to consider her decision, and wondered—would he have done the same? If their roles were reversed, would he have chosen to see Elizabeth as often as each partner’s meeting, knowing what it would be like to see her, to know she was so close and yet so far from him?
No, he would not. But it would be far easier to explain the dismissal of a woman than it would a duke. He was interested to see just how she would play this one, to explain herself and keep from losing the support and confidence of the partners.
Gabriel picked up the drink he had been nursing and walked to the window, looking out onto the dark night below. The truth was, he was a coward. He hadn’t even been able to bring himself to respond to her meeting invitation. And here he was, judging her.
He snorted, downing the rest of his drink now in one gulp as he turned from the window and the people he saw beyond it. They all looked so merry from up here, the couples returning to their homes, arm in arm, or within carriages pulled by magnificent horses. He probably looked the same himself, he supposed, despite the fact he was now miserable. It was all a matter of perspective.
Gabriel poured himself another brandy as he sat back down, this time in the leather chair in front of the fire. He could have gone to White’s or another club tonight—perhaps one of the seedier ones, where he could lose himself in drink and women. The only problem was, the thought of any woman other then Elizabeth left him feeling nothing but disgust at himself and his current situation. He wanted her, and only her. He just didn’t know how to rid himself of this damn emotion that wouldn’t quit, no matter how much he tried to push it away.
So he took another sip. He’d numb the pain tonight, alone, and then tomorrow he would move on.
*
“Elizabeth?” Her grandmother peeked inside the door of Elizabeth’s bedchamber with a bit of trepidation on her face, and guilt coursed through Elizabeth at just how much she had disregarded her grandmother’s own feelings over the past couple of days.
“Yes, Grandmother?” she asked.
“Tonight is a dance at Lady Featherstone’s. I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me?”
“Oh.” Elizabeth had no wish to go, to potentially see Gabriel, of course, but also some of the clients she had lost since becoming a partner in the bank. There had been, however, a few prospectively interested. Perhaps she should go, if for nothing else than to show that she was not afraid of what others may think of her. She wondered if Henry had done any additional damage since she had dismissed him. “I suppose for a short time,” she said. “When would you like to leave?”
“Is a couple of hours enough time for you?”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth, managing a weak smile.
Precisely two hours later, they were within the carriage when Elizabeth finally remembered what she had been meaning to ask her grandmother.
“Grandmother, some years ago, did Grandpapa say anything to you regarding a situation at the bank? Of a clerk and a partner he was concerned with?”
Justine looked out the window for a moment, concentration upon her face.
“I do recall him letting go of a clerk for fraudulent behavior. I know he was concerned about a partner, but for the life of me, I cannot recall who it might have been. I’m sorry, darling.”
Elizabeth sighed inwardly but smiled for her grandmother. “No problem at all. I thought I would see if you knew of anything.”
At least now she knew that she could trust the clerks. She would ask them of the situation first thing on Monday morning. She was already on a roll dismissing partners—why stop now? Elizabeth felt as though a reckless spirit had overtaken her. It was somewhat freeing, thrilling even. All of her life she had lived by the rules, had followed entirely what was expected of her. Now that she had lost Gabriel and seemed to be losing the bank, all due to her careful practices, what did anything matter anymore?
Thankfully, Elizabeth saw no sign of Gabriel as she entered the Featherstones’ London home. She did, however, see Sarah, who reached out a hand in greeting when Elizabeth approached.
“Elizabeth,” she said, her smile warm, though she squeezed Elizabeth’s hand as though she was aware something was the matter. “How are you?”
Unlike the polite greetings of most people, Elizabeth always knew that Sarah’s question was genuine. Sarah looked into Elizabeth’s eyes as she asked the question, searching out the emotion within. Sarah’s brown eyes were so warm, so compassionate, that Elizabeth nearly shed a tear herself, but she stayed strong.
“I am…” She honestly didn’t know how to answer that question, and she looked around her before leading Sarah into a corner of the ballroom, where they could stand against the wall and view the room without any worry of who may be listening from over their shoulders. “I am questioning who I am, if I am being honest with you. I am questioning my life to this point, and the decisions I have made. Did I make the right choice in assuming and keeping my active role in the bank, or am I only bringing about its downfall? Should I have left the home of my parents? Speaking of them, they just arrived. You can see the look my mother is already sending my way. And then there is my decision regarding Gabriel…”
Elizabeth looked down at her hands for a moment, her gloves reminding her of the night he had kept the others from her. Gloves that she never did get back, she realized. Why, oh why, no matter what she did or to what extent she tried to keep him from her life, did everything surrounding her remind her of him?
Sarah said nothing as she waited for Elizabeth to continue, aware that there was more to this story that Elizabeth needed to get out.
When she looked back up at Sarah, her friend placed a hand on her arm, as though she could see the pain emanating from Elizabeth’s eyes.
“Did I make the right choice?” Elizabeth asked, hearing her voice soft and low, the ache within it apparent even to her. “Was I being too harsh, too proud, too stubborn? Oh, Sarah, I’m just so afraid of being hurt again that I’m scared to let him in.”
Now that she had spoken the truth aloud, relief filled her. Gabriel had been right about one thing—sharing burdens could be more helpful than she had ever realized.
“If you truly feel that your life would be better without him, then so be it—you’ve made the right choice, and you can move on. If, however, you let him go simply because you are scared of the risk you would have to take, well… everyone is scared, Elizabeth. No one knows what the future holds, and if you don’t take the risk, then you could miss out on the most wonderful aspects of life.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “That is true. Frightening, but true.”
“Perhaps you need to speak to Gabriel again.”
“If he will even speak with me.”
“He’s here.”
“What?”
Elizabeth looked around, not seeing him anywhere.
“I saw him enter into one of the back rooms with Phoebe’s husband and another man—the one you say loves the ladies.”
“Ah. David Redmond.”
“That’s the one. A handsome man.”
“But not the faithful, nor the marrying type,” Elizabeth said wryly.
“But Gabriel seems to now be, which is most important. So what are you waiting for?” Sarah asked, and Elizabeth nodded at her, gathered her strength, and began for the back, however she was soon intercepted by her paren
ts.
“Elizabeth, how are you?” her mother asked, and Elizabeth managed a smile, despite the fact that she was now impatient to get on with her next conversation, despite the fact she had no idea exactly what she would say to Gabriel, besides the fact that she knew she had to apologize. He had been nothing but generous of his time and attention for the past few months, and she had been rather dismissive of it in her stubbornness. But that would have to wait.
“I am well, Mother, how are you?”
“As well as can be, despite the fact that you have injured us so,” her mother said with a pained expression, and Elizabeth tried not to let her mother’s words affect her.
“I am sorry you feel that way, Mother, but it was time for me to step out on my own, live my own life—just as Terrence did.”
“Terrence is a gentleman, not an unwed lady,” her mother said with a sniff, and Elizabeth decided that the best course of action was simply not to respond.
“I do hear that you were spending some time with the Duke of Clarence once more,” her mother continued, assessing Elizabeth with a critical eye. “Of course I commend you on whatever you did to encourage him to come back to you. I warn you, however, do not make the same mistake that you did last time.”
“Which was?”
“Allowing emotions to impede your progress. He’s the Duke of Clarence, Elizabeth!” her mother hissed, looking around her furtively. “It doesn’t matter if the man beds half of London, as long as you have his name and his children.”
“I feel otherwise, Mother,” Elizabeth said, glancing to her father, who didn’t even seem to be listening to them, but instead was looking rather bored as he glanced around the room. “But as a matter of fact, I must be going, I’m very sorry. Shall we have dinner together soon?”
“Very well,” her mother said with a sigh. “Brush me to the side once more. But fine, I shall see if Terrence is available one evening.”
Her words caused another twinge of regret within Elizabeth—not for her mother’s apparent pain, but for the fact that she hadn’t seen Terrence in some time now. He was likely busy himself, but still, she should reach out to him. She had always been the one to encourage closeness between them and she had become preoccupied with other things.
Regency Scandals and Scoundrels Collection Page 114
