“I have a confession to make. I did not come here just for a visit, but more.” Dorothea looked at Helen’s puzzled expression, and then the empty chair. “Perhaps you should return to your chair.”
Helen hesitated, then plopped into the seat. “Did someone die?”
“No. Have we not had enough of death in our family as of late?”
“Yes, but that does not always stop Providence.”
“No, it does not. I have come to believe that the good Lord does have a plan for us all. I do not profess to understand His ways at all times, but I walk by faith as well as I can.”
“And yet you are worried.”
“Yes. I–I need money.” There. She had said it. No matter what the outcome of her proclamation, she had finally managed to relieve herself of the burden of expressing her need. The very act left her feeling lighter.
“Oh, is that all?”
Helen’s near dismissal of her problem gave her more courage. “Yes.”
“In that case, we will discuss the amount later, and I shall have Luke write you a bank draft. If I make sure Cook prepares his favorite mutton stew for tomorrow’s dinner, I might be able to convince him to part with as much as five hundred pounds.” Helen tapped her fan against her fingers and sent Dorothea a conspiratorial smile.
Dorothea swallowed. “That. . .that is very generous of you, Helen. And I would accept such a sum gladly.” She looked down at the beautiful, multicolored Oriental rug that showed wear on a few patches. An heirloom, no doubt. “But I fear that amount would hardly make a dent in the debts Father left.” She lifted her face to meet Helen’s gaze, half fearing her cousin’s reaction.
Helen stiffened, and her eyes took on a light that expressed puzzlement and worry. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Dorothea, but even here in the country those in the know were aware of your father’s penchant for gambling.”
“If you knew, why did you not say anything?” Anger at the fact that Helen let her humiliate herself by explaining her plight rose to her chest. Yet because she was in no position to assume a posture of righteous indignation, Dorothea tempered her feelings.
“I did not want to embarrass you. I had no idea your visit here would involve such a request. My uncle had never shown such irresponsibility before, and I had no reason to believe he had run through his entire fortune so quickly. I understand gaming was not his pastime of choice until after the death of your dear mother.”
“True on all counts.” A surge of embarrassment at thinking ill of her cousin filled Dorothea. She found she couldn’t look her cousin in the eye, so she focused on a pair of ivory-colored silk draperies that decorated a window.
“So, if I may ask, just how much debt did your father leave?”
Shame replaced Dorothea’s mere embarrassment, but she knew she couldn’t deny Helen an answer. She had every right to ask. Still, in honor of her father’s memory, Dorothea couched the dilemma in the best possible terms. She met Helen’s gaze. “I have settled all but ten thousand pounds.”
Helen flinched. “Ten thousand pounds?” Her eyes grew round.
Surprise gripped Dorothea. Helen was rumored to be wealthy enough that such an amount should have seemed almost like pocket change to her. Perhaps rumors were not so reliable after all.
“That is not an unheard-of sum.” Helen drew herself up in a way that made Dorothea suspect she had discerned her unspoken thoughts and wanted to maintain her pride. “I do have some money set aside from my own inheritance, but of course Luke is responsible for my financial affairs.”
So she planned to hide behind Luke. Dorothea couldn’t blame Helen. If the situation were reversed, how would she feel about dipping into her capital to help a distant relative?
Helen continued, “Luke is generous with me, but I cannot count on his generosity if a request jeopardizes the future of our own heirs.”
“I understand. Of course your husband is obliged to look after your interests. And I would never dream of creating hardship for you or my little niece.” She made another attempt. “Although you do understand, I would pay you back, with interest.”
“Oh. Indeed.” Helen’s voice shook ever so slightly. “But such an amount—that might take awhile to pay back?”
Dorothea lifted her chin. “I plan to take a job as a nanny or governess. Yes, I will need some time to pay it back because of course my wages will not be substantial. But I can also take in sewing and find other ways to earn extra money. And if you will have patience with me, you will find your good deed rewarded.”
“Oh, but we could never allow you to take on employment!”
“Please, Helen, allow me to do what I must. I am determined not to be a burden to my family. If Luke will only agree—”
“The truth of the matter is, I am not sure he will. He does not look kindly upon gaming of any sort, and he will not be sympathetic to the way in which my uncle displayed total disregard for your future. I can tell you now that he is likely to agree to help with only a portion of that amount.”
Couldn’t anyone see that Dorothea hadn’t contributed to her situation, that she was a victim of someone else’s wrongdoing? She had no desire to be wed to a man like Luke, whose high-handedness limited his capacity for mercy or even common sense. But since she had chosen to approach her distant relative to beg for money, and since she was a guest in Helen’s house, not the reverse, Dorothea was in no position to lecture Helen about her husband’s attitudes. Indeed, the views Helen expressed may well have been her own.
“I would be grateful for any help you are willing to extend me,” Dorothea said.
“I think I might convince Luke to part with two thousand pounds.”
One fifth of what she owed. But compared to the five hundred pounds Helen had offered earlier, two thousand sounded like a fortune. “Thank you. I assure you, your generosity has earned you my eternal gratitude.”
Without warning, a man swept into the room and bowed.
Helen took prompt notice of him and tapped her fan flirtatiously against her palm. “Why, Baron von Lunenburg. Whatever brings you here?”
Two
Baron von Lunenburg looked just as Helen had described him. The first aspects of his appearance Dorothea noticed were brown hair and a matching mustache coiffed to polished perfection and light brown eyes complementing pale skin. His was not a face that would draw one’s immediate attention, but he looked pleasant enough.
Casual observation showed him to cut a dandy figure in a suit. Yet upon closer inspection, Dorothea noticed that though his garments were fashioned from superior cloth, the coat sleeves were a half-inch too long, and the seams connecting the sleeve to the coat were placed on the extreme top of his shoulders rather than about an inch closer to his neck as they should have been. The coat seemed to be intended as a cropped fashion, but the end of the garment didn’t fall at the narrowest part of his waist. Dorothea wondered why a man of such obvious means couldn’t find a tailor with a greater degree of skill.
A quick glance at his shoes told her that they had been well preserved by extensive polishing so that the indentations from wear would escape notice. She felt it odd that a titled gentleman would consider such a worn pair fit enough to wear to an elaborate birthday celebration given in his honor. Were they his best pair?
Dorothea’s conscience reprimanded her. Stop with your superior attitude. You no longer have a fortune to protect you, and you may end up with no shoes at all.
A man of distinguished bearing and agreeable countenance entered on Baron von Lunenburg’s heels. Although Dorothea had never seen Helen’s husband, she assumed him to be Luke.
“My dear,” he said to Helen. “I brought Lunenburg up here to prove a point. That I do indeed possess a copy of Letters from a Pennsylvania Farmer.” Luke went to the shelf, retrieved an ancient leather volume, and held it up for his friend to see. “There, Lunenburg. I told you so.”
“In that case, it is a good thing for me that you are not a gambling man. I
would have lost quite a bit of money tonight. Instead, I found two lovelies. . . .” He looked Dorothea over from head to toe. “Discussing matters as grave and dull as finances.”
Luke noticed Dorothea. “I beg your pardon. I was so intent on my project that I forgot my manners entirely.”
“But you did address your wife. Not that I blame you. Her loveliness is not to be ignored,” Baron von Lunenburg observed.
Helen giggled. “You are quite the flatterer.”
“A flatterer? No, milady. I speak the truth. You are a woman who is easily noticed.” Baron von Lunenburg then set his attentions upon Dorothea. He studied her in a way that made her feel like a diamond he was thinking of purchasing. She wasn’t sure whether she should feel flattered or uncomfortable.
“I do not believe we have met?” he asked.
Dorothea said a silent prayer of thanks that her cousin possessed the good breeding and manners to make flawless introductions. She couldn’t have spoken. Judging from the heat rising to her cheeks, Dorothea knew she must look like a boiled beet. Approaching Helen for a large sum of money to replace what her father had gambled away had been enough to embarrass her for the rest of her life, but now the guest of honor at the party—a stranger—had been privy to their conversation, as well? Judging from his inquisitive eyes and the way he licked his lips, she was beginning to reach the conclusion that Baron von Lunenburg was a lecherous stranger, at that.
“I am pleased to meet you, Baron von Lunenburg.” Dorothea extended her hand out of habit rather than desire.
He kissed the back of her knuckles rather than brushing his lips against them in a gentle matter as she expected. She managed to keep from wincing.
Baron von Lunenburg peered into her face. “The pleasure is mine, I assure you. You have been hiding here in the study far too long. Surely you plan to join us. I do believe I have the right to insist, as a matter of fact, since the festivities have been presented in honor of my birthday.”
“Of course,” Helen interjected. “My cousin would never dream of doing anything less than what would please you, Baron von Lunenburg.”
“And I would not dream of including myself in the celebration before changing out of this traveling suit and into a gown suitable for such an occasion,” Dorothea said. “But as has been pointed out with such tact and eloquence, I have kept our hostess from the festivities too long. Please, Helen, return to your guests.”
“In due time,” Baron von Lunenburg said in a turnabout Dorothea hadn’t expected. “First, I would like to address the matter about which I overheard you speaking. Am I to understand you are in need of two thousand pounds?”
The last thing Dorothea wanted was for another stranger to learn about her dire straits. She could only take the offensive. “You admit to me that you were eavesdropping on a private conversation? And you call yourself a gentleman?” Dorothea felt her face flush.
“Dorothea!” Helen admonished.
“I am sorry but—”
“Apologize this instant,” Helen demanded.
“There is no need for all that.” Baron von Lunenburg waved his hand to show how little importance he placed on Helen’s suggestion. “The lady has a point. But I assure you that once you hear what I have to say you will be glad I overheard—quite by accident, I may add—about your dilemma. Now, how much do you owe? Two thousand pounds?”
Dorothea didn’t know how to answer. That amount sounded almost minuscule in comparison to what she really owed. “Uh—”
“I thought so. I would like to make you an offer.”
“An offer? But I cannot think of—”
“There, there. Do not feel the need to be embarrassed,” Baron von Lunenburg assured her. “We are all dear friends here. And even the finest lady can find herself a victim of circumstances beyond her control. That is the case with you, is it not?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“So you now find yourself in dire need of money?”
Dorothea felt her countenance turn to a feverish red, but her own false pride couldn’t help her pay her debts. “Regrettably, yes. And the situation is far worse than you think. I am actually in need of not two thousand pounds, but ten thousand.”
To her surprise, he didn’t seem taken aback by the large sum. “That is a dilemma, but it does not have to be a ruinous one.”
“Then you do not know the full extent of my circumstance. If I do not pay soon, I am threatened with the very real prospect of debtor’s prison. Newgate, to be exact.”
“Newgate. A wretched place. Not good enough to house even a common rodent.” He shuddered with a violence that renewed Dorothea’s fear of confinement in such a place. “Never mind a beautiful lady such as yourself.”
Feeling a sudden chill, Dorothea rubbed her palms against her forearms.
“She will never enter Newgate as a convict,” Helen assured him.
“So you are willing to settle her debts?”
“I–I have yet to confer with Luke.”
Dorothea regarded Luke’s demeanor and found little in the way of compassion in his expression.
Apparently noting the effect of the conversation on Dorothea, Baron von Lunenburg set his expression into a serious but kind facade. “Perhaps that will not be necessary. Tell me, just who are these creditors of yours? Merchants and bankers, I assume? Such types are known to be reasonable businessmen. Certainly they would be willing to work with you to keep you from such horror.”
“If only my creditors were as you describe.” Dorothea swallowed and cast her gaze at the floor. “But the people to whom I am indebted are proprietors of several gaming halls. I paid the honest merchants first—the ones I owed for coal, fabric, food, and any other legitimate services rendered.”
“And you put off the gaming hall proprietors until last?”
She bored her gaze right into Baron von Lunenburg’s eyes as she felt anger rise in her chest. “Yes. They took advantage of my father when he was in the throes of grief over my mother’s death. Grief he never conquered. They knew he was wealthy and lent him money to gamble. Honest men would have stopped, but not these vile creatures. They did not care if he lost everything. And he did. Even after he had run through our entire fortune, he kept gambling, and they kept lending him money. Judging from my current situation, the pit is so deep I shall never get out as long as I live.” She bowed her head and blinked back tears.
“So you think. But clearly you are an innocent sheep and not well acquainted with how to deal with insalubrious types. I, fortunately for you, am a man of the world.”
His hopeful words encouraged her to look into his face. “Fortunately for me?”
“Yes. In fact, when I first heard about your plight, I had planned to offer you the money, but instead, I see that to solve your dilemma, I need only to call in a favor with a judge. Since your creditors operate just this side of the law, one well-placed word from him will assure that you never hear from them again. And you will be free from the prospect of Newgate—or any other prison—forever.”
“Really?” The possibility seemed too fantastic to contemplate. “You can do that?”
He puffed out his chest. “Of course, my dear. I am Baron von Lunenburg.”
“And you do not mind?”
“Mind? Why, of course not.”
“But you owe me no favor. And the expense—”
His hand waved in a flippant manner that expressed his lack of concern. “The favor will cost me nothing.”
“This is too wonderful for words! A gift from Providence, really.” Helen rushed to Dorothea and drew her face close to hers. Dorothea caught a whiff of the tea rose scent Helen wore as her cousin whispered urgently, “I implore you not to be a fool, Dorothea. Do accept his offer!”
Dorothea pondered the suggestion. As she had many times, she mulled over in her mind a list of the people she could approach with reasonable expectation that they might be willing to offer her a hand up out of her quandary. The list came up too short to menti
on, especially now that Helen had offered such limited assistance.
She watched Baron von Lunenburg’s expression as he studied her in return. A face not unpleasant to contemplate, she saw in it no traces of deceit. Yet his profession that the favor would cost him nothing didn’t ring true. Surely he must have to pay something—if not money, then emotional bondage. What was his price for her?
“What are you waiting for, Dorothea?” Helen interjected into her musings. “If you do not respond soon and with a show of gratitude, Baron von Lunenburg is liable to withdraw his generous offer posthaste!”
“Even though I have not been apprised of the entire equation,” Luke added, “I agree that, considering the direness of your current situation, to turn away such a munificent offer would seem as madness to me.”
Dorothea stalled. “I have no argument with the fact that your offer is most generous, Baron von Lunenburg. And I assure you, I am quite grateful to you. But I must ask, begging your utmost pardon, if. . .if there is any way a person could question the propriety of asking a judge to intervene in such a matter?”
“Dorothea!” Helen’s mouth dropped open.
“I beg your pardon, Helen, but your own reputation is just as much at stake as my own should this not be completely above board.”
“True,” Baron von Lunenburg agreed. “Which is why I would never think of putting my friends in jeopardy. What kind of man are you suggesting that I am, Lady Witherspoon?”
“A man I have only had the pleasure of meeting this evening, sir.”
“Properly introduced to you by a party known to yourself,” Baron von Lunenburg pointed out. His mustache frowned along with his mouth.
“How dare you question his honesty!” Helen cried. “Luke will soon be making a profitable investment with Baron von Lunenburg. Surely this is an indication that he is trustworthy. If you think it is not, then you are calling my husband a fool. And if you believe him to be a fool, then you should leave our house immediately!”
Spurred by the notion that she wished not to abandon herself to frigid, icy rain in the darkness outside, Dorothea mustered as much sincerity as she could. “I beg your pardon, Baron von Lunenburg.”
Journeys Page 2
