Tom: To Secure His Legacy (Other Pens, Mansfield Park Book 4)

by Leenie Brown

However, where her father had failed was in passing on his abilities to his heir. She shook her head. If only she were really a gentleman and not just wearing gentleman’s clothing, her father’s estate would not be in the state it was now. She understood numbers, and she was far more disciplined than her younger brother about most things in life. However, she was merely a daughter for whom her father had provided handsomely, but to whom he would not leave his fortune.

  “What?” Robert asked when Faith only continued to glare at him in silence. “It is true. You have not yet lost your bloom, you are accomplished, and you have a fortune. What else could any Englishman wish for in a wife?”

  “You are an idiot,” Faith replied. “I should like to be more than a pretty plaything to put on display who funds her husband’s enjoyments.”

  “Must you speak so plainly? It is really not proper.”

  Faith raised a brow as the carriage rocked as it went around a corner. “I must speak plainly, or you might not understand.”

  “How many times do I have to apologize for my losses at that card game?”

  “And your losses on the horses. And the purchasing of a box at the theatre, which I have yet to sit in for a play. And for leaving me to tend to your friend while you went gallivanting to heaven knows where!” That last part was the most difficult of all her brother’s faults to overlook.

  “It was a cockfight,” he muttered.

  She shook her head. Of all the stupid things to do when a friend was injured and ill! It had been a year. She should likely attempt to not yell at him each time she remembered the incident. However, she could not.

  Mr. Bertram had come so close to dying! It was fortunate that she had been able to find a way to alert his family to the need to come to collect him. She could not imagine having to lie so near to death with no one to sit watch over her and pray for her recovery.

  Oh, she knew Mr. Bertram was as reckless as Robert. That was how Mr. Bertram had sustained his injury and why he had fallen ill. He had not cared for himself as he ought. He had been drinking far too much and spending too many hours chasing pleasure rather than being sensible and sleeping as he should. She shook her head again.

  “I just cannot fathom how you could be so heartless,” she said to her brother.

  “He had fallen. I did not know he would not follow us in a few days.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You could have waited with him and let the others go on without you.”

  Robert’s head drooped, but he nodded. He looked very much like a penitent child. Drat him! She wanted to stay angry with him. She did not wish to feel like a peevish governess.

  “When we have recovered the money you lost, I am certain I will find it easier to forget why I must dress like this and participate in things which, if discovered, would not make me attractive to the proper sort of gentleman – the sort that I wish to secure – one who likes me for me and not just my money.”

  “So, I am still not to mention your wealth to anyone?”

  She shook her head. “I am certain there are those who know it, but I do not need anyone – especially you – broadcasting it far and wide.”

  “What if you do not succeed this season? Might I then mention it to a few gentlemen of high standing?”

  Faith sighed. She was nearly five and twenty. It really was time that she attempted to make a match. It was what was expected, and it was how she would best be able to have a secure future. She pulled her lips back to center from the right where they had puckered. It was not a becoming expression. She must learn to stop making it when thinking about things she would rather not consider.

  She could secure her future fortune on her own if she needed to do so, but she really did need a husband if she were to have children. And she did so love children.

  “It is not a gentleman’s standing which qualifies or disqualifies him.” She sought for how to explain her position to her brother. “Character is more important, Robert. I want an honorable husband who knows how to care for his estate, his wife, and his children’s future.”

  “You want what you are attempting to make me into.”

  That was it precisely. Faith could not in good conscience allow her brother to be less than the best husband for which a lady could hope. At three and twenty, he was nearing an age when he would begin seriously looking for a Mrs. Eldridge.

  Their mother, who understood her easy-going, charming, though not exceptionally thoughtful, son, had entrusted him to Faith before she died. That promise to her mother was what drove Faith to push Robert to be what she knew he could be.

  “I wish for you to have a happy marriage.” She smiled softly at her brother. “I would not wish for you to be miserable either because you married where you should not – or had to in order to keep the estate in funds – or because you could not care for your family as you wish because the finances are not what they should be.” She sighed. “Felicity in marriage really does come down to money, does it not?”

  Her brother shook his head. “I do not believe it does.”

  Faith closed her eyes to keep from rolling them. “In an abstracted fashion, it does. Worry about finances, selling off your inheritance, not being accepted in your usual sphere of friends, or, heaven forbid, being sent to debtors’ prison would hamper both a husband’s and a wife’s contentment and happiness in their union.”

  “You are far too dramatic, my dear sister. A man and woman can be just as happy on two thousand a year as they can on three.”

  “If that is where they began,” Faith argued. “However, if, for example, your wife is used to having a lady’s maid and suddenly has to give up that luxury so that a nursemaid can be acquired for your growing brood, I would think the loss of one to gain the other would cause some strife and unhappiness.” She straightened her jacket. “It is only logical, and it is precisely why you must learn to manage your money well.”

  Robert did not reply. Instead, he turned sullenly toward the window and ignored her for the remainder of their trip. However, as the door to their vehicle was being opened, he lobbed one parting shot.

  “I do hope you find a gentleman to love who will cause you to throw caution to the wind. You are too severe. No gentleman wishes to be browbeaten about his accounts.”

  “Throw caution to the wind, indeed!” Faith stepped out of the carriage and stood beside her brother in front of the coffeehouse. Her heart beat a rapid rhythm in her chest just as it always did before she entered the building. Being discovered would not do her any favours.

  “Can we be quick?” she implored.

  “Do you wish for a cup of coffee?” Robert asked.

  “If it can be brought to Mr. Clarke‘s room, yes. Otherwise, no. A little faster, please?”

  “Trotting into the establishment would draw more eyes than sauntering.”

  “Can we perhaps not saunter but just walk?” She must have made him excessively irritated with her lecture, for he appeared to be enjoying tormenting her with his nonchalance.

  “Oh, very well,” he replied with a chuckle. “I shall join you as soon as I have spent a few minutes doing what I do best.”

  Faith shook her head as she parted from her brother. Talking. Gabbing. Sharing and hearing whatever bit of gossip there was. That is what Robert considered his duty upon entering the coffeehouse. It did not matter to him that other business-minded gentlemen set straight to work.

  “Much can be gleaned from a few moments of conversation,” she muttered to herself. That was what Robert always said. How much he was gleaning was the issue. He rarely returned to her with any news which was truly useful.

  “I would agree.”

  Faith froze. Her rapidly beating heart leapt into her throat. She had never had to speak to anyone other than Mr. Clarke on the few trips she had made to this establishment. She would box Robert’s ears for this later.

  “Tom Bertram,” the gentleman, who had agreed with her, introduced himself.

  Faith swallowed. Mr. Bertram needed no intro
duction. She knew him – intimately – far more intimately than she knew any other gentleman. Not that he knew that.

  “Fa – Fredrick Eldridge.” She pitched her voice lower than was normal.

  “Eldridge?”

  Blast! She should have used a different name. While she was good at numbers, she was not all that adept at lying when caught unawares. If she had been given some warning, she might have been able to concoct a better name and have some clue as to how she might answer anything else Mr. Bertram might ask.

  “Yes, yes, Eldridge,” she replied as she took a step away from Mr. Bertram and toward Mr. Clarke‘s door.

  “Any relation of Robert Eldridge? I know the possibility might be small, but since Robert is a friend of mine, I thought I would ask.” He took a step towards her.

  “Oh… uh… well… um… yes, actually, we are related,” Faith stammered. “We are cousins. Distant cousins,” she added when Mr. Bertram gave her a curious look. Neither she nor Robert had any close cousins as one uncle had never sired children and the other had died before he could even make an attempt at procreating.

  “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Clarke?” Mr. Bertram gestured to the door in front of them.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “We?” Tom looked behind him and then turned a full circle. He was mocking her.

  “Robert and I,” she replied sharply. Her eyes grew wide as she realized she had not pitched her voice lower as she should have done. “I should not keep him waiting. That is Robert’s job.” She reached for the doorknob, but Mr. Bertram beat her to it.

  “It seems we is going to include me,” he said.

  “That cannot be,” Faith protested. She and Robert were to meet with Mr. Clarke alone. There were private matters to be discussed, and there was her identity to conceal.

  “It is two o’clock, is it not?” Tom took his watch from his pocket and consulted it.

  “There must be a mistake.”

  The door before them opened.

  “Ah, good. You are both here,” Mr. Clarke said. “I assume your brother will be along soon?” he directed the question to Faith who wished to melt into the floor or vanish, scattered into the air like the smoke from Mr. Clarke’s cigar.

  Chapter 3

  “I thought it a good idea to have the two of you meet,” Mr. Clarke continued as he ushered Faith and Tom into his office. “Mr. Bertram needs some advice on how to regain some monies just as your brother is.”

  “Brother?” Tom couldn’t help noticing the way the cheeks of the young gentleman he had met in the hallway had grown brilliantly red, and the fellow seemed to shift uneasily with each mention of that word brother. “I thought you said you and Robert were distant cousins.”

  Mr. Clarke’s eyes darted between Tom and young Fredrick. “Did I say something amiss?”

  “Yes,” Fredrick snapped.

  The fellow was not only delicate looking, but he was also easily put out. However, Tom knew for a fact that Fredrick, if that was indeed his name, was not Robert Eldridge’s brother. Robert did not have a brother. He had only ever mentioned a sister.

  Tom tilted his head and looked carefully at Fredrick. The youngster did bare a remarkable resemblance to Robert except Robert’s neck was not so graceful, nor did Robert have such lovely pink lips and long lashes. If Tom were to be asked to put a wager on it, he would bet that the young gentleman in front of him was not a gentleman at all, but rather a lady in gentlemen’s clothing.

  “Robert has no brothers,” Tom said, breaking the silence in the room.

  Mr. Clarke shifted some papers. “Quite right. I had forgotten.”

  The gentleman had not forgotten a thing. Tom settled back in his chair, waiting and watching until one or the other of the people caught in this falsehood attempted to clear up the misunderstanding.

  “Well…” Mr. Clarke began but then fell silent.

  “You are his friend?” Fredrick asked.

  Tom nodded.

  “A good friend or the sort who says he is a friend and then tells tales to destroy the other?”

  Tom pulled his head back and blinked. “I do not tell tales to destroy anyone. I never have.”

  “Never?”

  Tom shook his head. “Not once. Ever.”

  “And why are you here?”

  “Why should I tell you when I do not even know who you truly are?” Tom replied to the demanding fellow.

  “He has spent himself into a precarious position and wishes to remedy it,” Mr. Clarke said. “Much like your… ur… brother.”

  Mr. Clarke rubbed out his cigar as a clear battle played out in Fredrick’s eyes while the young fellow studied Tom.

  “Very well.” Fredrick, whose voice was no longer low but rather pleasantly womanly, placed a hand on his – or rather, her hat but hesitated. “Not a word of this must leave this room. There are those who would use it to ruin me – not that I can name anyone in particular at this very moment. My friends are quite lovely, but there are others…” She pressed her lips together as if she realized she had been rambling. Her shoulders lifted and lowered as she drew a deliberate breath and took off her hat. “My name is Faith, and Robert is, just as Mr. Clarke has said, my brother.”

  Beneath that hat was a neatly styled knot of hair the colour of golden sunshine with a few shades of brown and a tinge of a fiery sunset. It was set softly so that some hair would be seen below the brim of her hat just as a gentleman’s would be.

  “Do you sing?” Tom whispered.

  The space between her cobalt blue eyes furrowed.

  “I am certain everyone sings, Mr. Bertram.”

  He pulled his eyes away from her alluring lovely pink lips.

  “But not all do it well,” he replied.

  “Indeed,” said Mr. Clarke. “I have not heard Miss Eldridge sing, but I have seen her calculate numbers.”

  Tom looked at Mr. Clarke and then back to Miss Eldridge. This angelic being was the person who Mr. Clarke thought could help him figure out how to help him with his financial woes? “Mr. Durward said you wished for me to meet someone who might be willing to help me regain my losses.”

  Mr. Clarke waved a hand in Miss Eldridge’s direction. “Miss Eldridge is the best client I have. Her brother’s accounts are replenishing themselves quickly.”

  Tom turned his attention to the lovely lady beside him. He had never imagined that help could come in such a beautiful package. “Will you help me, Miss Eldridge?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Are you not going to utter your shock over my being female and in possession of a brain?”

  “Why should I do that?”

  That furrow from before once again appeared between her eyes. “Because most gentlemen do.”

  “Do many know that you are a financial goddess?” Tom smirked as the blush on her cheeks deepened.

  “No, but I have been cautioned to keep my intelligence to myself.” There was an annoyed edge to her voice.

  “Fools. The whole lot of them.”

  “I do not flirt, Mr. Bertram.”

  “A pity that,” Tom muttered. He would love to flirt with her. “It might surprise you, but I do know that there are ladies who are more cunning than one might expect.” He held up a hand. “And not just cunning in how they can claw at each other. But in useful ways.”

  “Such as finances?”

  “I have not met one until now, but I do not disbelieve it possible. How else do many estates operate if the lady of the home does not see to the proper management of the accounts and possessions under her purview?”

  That earned him a pleased smile.

  “I will not lie. I am impressed with that answer. However, before I give my consent to help you, I must know one thing, Mr. Bertram.”

  “Anything.”

  The brow over her left eye rose as if she did not quite believe him. She was a skeptical sort of lady, which made him wonder why she was so distrusting.

  “Why do you wish to regain your losses? Is it to
keep creditors away from your door so that you are free to come and go and take your ease? Or is it more?”

  “I gambled away part of my brother’s inheritance.”

  She remained silent, her eyes searching his.

  “I very nearly died due to my reprehensible ways.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  Ah! That must be why she was so distrustful. She had heard about him from her brother. Tom shook his head. How foolish he had been. “I am not that man any longer.”

  “You are not?” Lashes fluttered over wide, suspicious eyes.

  “I have seen the error of my ways. However, I did not pay attention to my father’s instruction, and well, I am in need of assistance in learning how to secure my legacy, Miss Eldridge. I would be very grateful if you would help me.”

  “I will need to consult my brother, of course.”

  “Of course,” Tom replied just as the door opened and allowed the entrance of that brother.

  “Close the door,” Miss Eldridge snapped at Robert.

  “Your coffee,” Robert said, placing a cup before her and then turning to close the door. “I had not expected us to have company.” He smiled at Tom. “Not that the company is unpleasant. I am, in fact, most pleased to see you, Bertram. How is the leg?”

  “It grows stronger. I think I shall be able to rid myself of this soon.” Tom lifted his cane.

  “Hopefully,” Miss Eldridge muttered over her cup of coffee.

  “What do you mean hopefully?” Tom asked.

  Her eyes grew wide. “Did I say that aloud?”

  “Yes, my dear sister, you did.”

  Miss Eldridge sighed and put her cup of coffee on Mr. Clarke’s desk. “Some injuries never heal completely.”

  “She is being practical,” Robert said with a roll of his eyes. “It is one of her most charming features.”

  “Someone in this family ought to be practical.”

  Tom wanted to chuckle at the look of disdain she leveled at her brother, who merely smiled, causing the look of disdain on his sister’s features to deepen. It seemed that these two only resembled each other in features but not temperaments. “Mr. Clarke has suggested I seek help with my finances from your sister.”