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

by Leenie Brown

  “Yes, while I was wearing breeches and a jacket.”

  “Oh, my!”

  “Indeed,” Faith agreed with her friend.

  “Does he know you are not a gentleman?” Mrs. Johns asked.

  Faith sighed. “Yes. He happens to be a friend of my brother.”

  “Him?” Olivia pointed toward the street.

  Faith looked, but there was no one there. “Yes.”

  Though there was no one from whom she needed to keep a secret in the house, she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Mr. Bertram, the gentleman on the horse in front of your window, is the friend who fell from a horse and stayed at our estate for a time.”

  Olivia’s mouth dropped open.

  “The one you cared for?” asked Mrs. Johns.

  Faith nodded. “So, he has seen me improperly dressed, and I have seen him…”

  “Even less properly dressed,” Mrs. Johns supplied.

  “Does… Does… does he know?” Once again, Olivia waved her hand at the window.

  “I do not believe he does.” Faith was thankful for that. Although after meeting him today, she was a trifle worried that her secret might not remain a secret. “He barely saw anything of me. He was not in his right senses – floating between wakefulness and sleep. And, remember, I dressed as a maid while I tended to him. But then, someone had to see to his care.”

  She had dressed as a maid to make it more challenging for him to identify her if he should recall her help. It was not appropriate for a gently bred young woman to sit alone with a gentleman in his bedchamber for days. Nor was it appropriate for such a young woman to help tend to his needs alongside his man. However, as a maid in an understaffed home, she could push the bounds of propriety much further without it becoming a great item of gossip.

  “My brother was gone when I arrived to find a feverish stranger languishing in a barely staffed house because Robert had not intended to be in residence and had not bothered to inform anyone of his arrival.” She placed her work in her lap and stared out the window. “I still do not understand how anyone can leave his injured friend behind to go make merry.” She shook her head. “Mr. Bertram is very nice. He does not even seem to be upset with Robert for having left him. They greeted each other as if nothing so dire as nearly dying had ever occurred. Men are very odd creatures.”

  Mrs. Johns chuckled. “They are indeed, but then they would say the same about us.”

  “You are likely right. Robert seems incapable of understanding me.”

  “You are not an easily understood lady,” Olivia said. “Most ladies do not dress as men and go visit stockbrokers, nor do they dress as maids to attend to sick friends.” She shook her head. “How did you not die of mortification upon meeting him? If I had seen a gentleman in nothing but his small clothes, I am sure I could not even meet his eyes whether he knew I had seen him or not.”

  Faith’s cheeks flushed. “It was much easier to keep my eyes on his face rather than risk remembering what is hidden beneath his jacket and trousers.”

  Mrs. Johns laughed. “Oh, Faith. You are such good medicine to my soul.” She continued to laugh until she had to seek her handkerchief to dry the corner of her eyes.

  “I do hope he does not remember seeing me in this dress.” She should have worn her longer pelisse, but that one was too nice to be wearing in this part of town when one was pretending to be a maid and not a lady of means.

  “You mean he saw you today?”

  Faith nodded. “I tried to escape as quickly as I could, but he had a question regarding an investment. I do not know why it could not wait until next time we meet, but it seemed important that he have his answer now and not later.”

  Mrs. Johns was laughing again. “What other lady attempts to escape from a handsome gentleman? Oh, Faith, you are a treasure.”

  “A lady, who wishes for the gentleman to not recognize her pretending to be a maid just as she did when he was ill at her brother’s estate, and who slept in the chair beside him to keep watch over his fever will try to avoid discovery.”

  She had been so scared that he was going to die before the apothecary could come on that first night, and then later, she had been equally as worried that his family would not arrive to see him before he succumbed. She could still feel his hand in hers. His grip would tighten at times as he coughed and groaned, and she would sing to him just as her mother used to sing to her.

  “I should not tease,” Mrs. Johns apologized.

  “No, no,” Faith assured her with a smile, “I am unusual. I know this. But I truly do hope he did not recognize me, or our meeting tomorrow could be very awkward.”

  Chapter 7

  Tom stood in front of a very grand and familiar building, looking at its door. He had not been inside this particular establishment since before his accident. It was a place of great pleasure – drink, cards, friends – but it was also a bastion of his former life.

  “Are you going in?”

  Tom shook his head as he greeted Charles Edwards, who had approached him. “Are you?”

  He did not know Edwards as well as he knew some gentlemen, but he had played a few games with the man and had entered into more than one bet with him. However, that was before the miraculous transformation of Mr. Edwards from rake to respectable gentleman.

  “Only to meet Crawford and Linton.” Edwards nodded toward the door. “Join me.”

  Tom looked toward the entrance to his club. Could he enter and exit without falling prey to that which he wished to avoid? After a moment of careful contemplation, while Mr. Edwards waited patiently, Tom decided there was only one way to discover the answer. “Very well, I shall join you.”

  “Excellent. I have heard from Crawford, through his sister, that you are bent on becoming one of us.” Edwards lowered his voice as if imparting a secret of great importance. “Respectable.”

  Tom chuckled. “I am attempting it, yes.”

  Edwards handed his hat and coat to the servant standing near the door and waited for Tom to do the same. “I also heard you were injured in a riding accident.” He nodded toward Tom’s cane.

  “I stupidly thought I could take a fence, but I was wrong.”

  “Port, whisky, or brandy?”

  Tom’s brow furrowed at the odd question.

  “I assume you were well into your cups to misjudge a fence. You are a friend of Eldridge, are you not?”

  “I am,” Tom replied as Edwards led him to a table where Henry Crawford and Trefor Linton sat.

  “Eldridge’s horses are some of the best around, and any of his friends, I would assume, know their animals well — meaning, you are no novice rider. Therefore, to misjudge a jump was the result of too much libation. I would bet a pound I am right. However, I have had my fill of bets for some time.”

  Tom chuckled. He had heard about the bet Edwards had placed declaring he could steal a kiss from the lady who was now his betrothed. The bet had almost cost him his happiness with the lady. Anyone who had come so close to losing something of great value often amended their ways to avoid such a thing happening again.

  “Whisky,” Tom said as he took a seat and greeted each of the others. “It nearly cost me my life, so the cane, though bothersome, in comparison, it is not so bad a thing.”

  “Finely spoken,” Linton commended. “A dissipated life will never lead to anything good.”

  “On that you are wrong. It led me to a wonderful young lady,” Edwards retorted.

  “Whom you nearly lost,” Linton grumbled.

  “True, but had I not made that bet, and had I not had a reputation which caused you to attack me over some rumor, and…” He held up a finger to mark his point. “If Crawford had not lost his heart and sought to amend his ways which led to my being required to help your sister protect his reputation, I might not ever have met my future Mrs. Edwards. Therefore, a dissipated life – no, no, two dissipated lives have led me to my current blissful state and to Crawford being just as happily tied to your sister.”r />
  “I maintain that your dissipation did you no favours,” Linton protested.

  “I am happily betrothed, and you are not,” Edwards said pointedly. “I think it is your lack of dissipation which hinders you from finding happiness, my friend.”

  Tom was not certain how Charles Edwards and Trefor Linton could be such good friends. One was a renown rake not unfamiliar with scandal, and the other was the sort of gentleman whose name was never even thought of in relation to a scandal.

  “I am not ready to be married,” Linton retorted.

  “I am nearly certain Mr. Bertram did not join us to hear you two argue about foolishness,” Henry interjected.

  “Apologies,” Linton said.

  “Oh, I had no particular reason for joining you other than Edwards offered.” Tom nodded his thanks for the glass of port which was placed before him.

  “Bertram?”

  “Eldridge,” Tom replied, replacing his glass on the table without so much as taking a sip before turning toward his friend.

  “May I?” Robert asked, motioning to a chair.

  “Of course,” Edwards replied.

  Tom suspected that if they could fit twenty chairs at this table, Edwards was the sort to fill them all and look to squeeze in a few extra.

  “Do not tell Faith, I was here,” he whispered as he sat down. “She will say it was an unnecessary expense.” He looked at the other fellows. “Have you all met my sister?”

  “Two of us are betrothed,” Edwards said. “But Linton here is looking for a wife.”

  “I just said I was not,” Linton snapped. “Not that your sister is not worth considering, Eldridge,” he added quickly. “I have met her. Last year at a musicale, if I remember correctly.”

  “I was not asking for that reason,” Robert said with a laugh.

  “Does she play an instrument?” Tom asked.

  “You do not know?” Edwards asked in surprise.

  Tom shook his head. “Eldridge refused to introduce me to his sister until recently.” It was not precisely a formal introduction which he had received in Mr. Clarke’s office – more of a forced confession – but the others did not need to know that.

  “I can understand that,” Linton muttered.

  “As can I,” Tom agreed. “I would like to say I would not wish to introduce such a person as I was to my sisters, but I did. Therefore, I cannot claim to not do what I did.” He held up a hand. “I am not condemning anyone but myself with such a statement. I was not the brother my sisters needed.”

  He would likely regret that all his life. Julia seemed happy enough with her husband, but Maria – well, perhaps one day he would be able to do something for her. However, first, he needed to get his financial affairs in order. Then, he might be able to convince his father that Maria could be accepted back into the family – at least, for a visit.

  “Does your sister play an instrument?” Tom asked Robert once again.

  “The piano,” Robert replied.

  “She did not play the piano at that musicale,” Linton inserted. “She sang. I only remember because her voice is among the prettiest voices I have heard.”

  “She does sing like an angel,” Robert admitted.

  Tom’s eyebrows rose.

  “And she is as pretty as her voice,” Robert muttered. “However, there is a touch of fire in her tongue – at least, there is for me. Not that I can blame her. I have been careless. But no more. I must mend my ways now that my inheritance has fallen to me.”

  The table fell silent.

  “It is not easy to come into one’s inheritance,” Linton admitted.

  “Indeed, it is not,” Henry agreed. “I did not step into it gracefully. I fought it and ignored it for some time. However, thanks to Linton and his sister, I am finally settling into it.”

  “I am attempting to tend to mine now before my father passes it on to me,” Tom admitted as he swirled the contents of his glass. The right side of his mouth curled up as he considered the pretty lady who was assisting him. If all his teachers had been as beautiful as Miss Eldridge, he would have applied himself better to his studies.

  “If you need help,” Linton offered, raising his glass in a small salute to Tom.

  “Eldridge is helping me at present as is Durward, but I thank you for your offer.”

  “Durward is the gentleman who is marrying Crawford’s sister, is he not?” Linton asked.

  “Yes,” Tom answered.

  “And Eldridge is helping you as well?” There was a hint of skepticism in the man’s tone.

  “My sister is,” Robert answered in a whisper, “but no one is to know that.” He gave each of his companions a pointed glare. “She lectures enough now. I do not wish for any further diatribes. Ladies with too much knowledge are not sought after and all that.” He waved his hand in the air and then, blew out a breath. “And I would not wish to harm her chances. She deserves to find a good match.”

  Tom could hear the love Robert had for his sister in his tone as he spoke, but then, Robert had always spoken well of her. That coupled with the way he had steadfastly refused to introduce her to any of his reprobate friends spoke loudly to how much he adored her.

  “You may wish to send Bertram to me,” Linton said, placing his empty glass on the table and moving to rise. “My sister was allowed to help Crawford and look where that led.” Linton grinned in opposition to his words. “I must say she did an excellent job of improving him.”

  “Indeed, she did,” Henry said.

  “There is nothing to fear,” Tom assured them. “I do not intend to even entertain the idea of looking for a wife until I have my finances in order.”

  Linton snorted in disbelief.

  “Truly,” Tom replied.

  “Well, I wish you well,” Linton answered.

  “Would you like to join us?” Edwards said as he rose. “We are going to serve some soup to the less fortunate.”

  To Tom, it appeared as if only Edwards was excited about the prospect before them. “No, thank you.”

  “Will you come with me?” Robert asked as the other gentlemen left. “I had thought to go home and find some way to amuse myself since Faith would not accept the invitation to the Howard’s soiree this evening.”

  “She only wishes for you to save the expense.” Tom rose to follow his friend. He would much rather follow Robert home and spend a few hours playing billiard or cards with a friend than returning to his own home to spend a boring evening reviewing accounts before tomorrow’s meeting and then, eventually, reading until he grew weary enough to retire to his bed for some sleep.

  “I know, but how is she to find a husband if she stays at home?”

  “I am surprised she has not found one already.” Although part of Tom was glad she had not.

  “She has exacting standards.” Robert shook his head. “I fear she has concocted some impossible image in her head and will never be truly satisfied.”

  “I am certain you fear for nothing. She is sensible. Surely, her aspirations are not unattainable.” She would likely be too sensible to ever consider him. He glanced surreptitiously at this friend. Robert was not looking his direction. There was no chance he had seen Tom’s startled and unhappy expression at the thought of Miss Eldridge never considering him.

  Robert sighed. “Perhaps. Although it is Faith, and she can be unmovable at times.”

  The two friends mounted their horses and began their journey to the Eldridge’s home.

  “Truth be told. I fear she is putting off attempting to find a match until she has seen me improved enough to be considered worthy of a wife.” Robert sighed again but did not go on.

  Tom suspected there was more that Robert wished to say, but he would not press his friend on the matter. Sometimes there were things which weighed heavily on a person’s heart but were not able to be put into words for just anyone – even a good friend. Was that not why Tom rarely spoke of his father’s approval — or rather the lack of his father’s approval — an
d why he never spoke of his mother’s sadness? As contrary as it would sound to many who considered a gentleman to be made of strong, stern stuff, the male heart which lay beneath the bluster and boasting was a fragile thing.

  Chapter 8

  “Everything seems to be in order,” Mr. Clarke peered up from the papers which lay before him.

  Faith and Mr. Bertram had worked several hours arranging and rearranging funds to find the best way for Mr. Bertram’s money to be spent. The papers which now lay on Mr. Clarke’s desk were the results of those hours. They had been mostly good hours. Faith had to admit she had enjoyed her time discussing money and various other topics with Mr. Bertram, although there had been one point of unease.

  “The business idea seems sound?” Faith leaned forward and propped her elbows on Mr. Clarke’s desk so she could get a better look at the numbers, just to make sure she was not remembering them incorrectly. “I think things are arranged so that no ill will befall Mr. Bertram’s present estate holdings.” Even if it was a risk which she did not feel comfortable with recommending.

  “Yes, yes. Everything is very well accounted for.” Mr. Clarke wore a pleased expression.

  “It is not too great a risk?” Faith asked.

  “No more than any other investment. There will be a healthy return on his investment as soon as the business begins to turn a profit.”

  “Durward is exceptionally good at what he does,” Tom inserted.

  “Oh, indeed!” Mr. Clarke agreed. “I would not hesitate to send investors in his direction.”

  Faith blew out a breath. “But a merchant is often…” She shook her head. “Gentlemen do not always see to it that their accounts are reconciled.”

  “Aye, it is a risk, Miss Eldridge,” Mr. Clarke agreed.

  “But no greater than any other,” Robert said. “I would offer up my own funds to this venture if I were allowed.”

  Her brother was standing beside Mr. Clarke’s desk and catching her eye, lifted an accusatory brow. They had discussed, or rather argued, over that very thing last night after Mr. Bertram had left. Robert just could not make the connection between Mrs. Johns’ current state of living and the accounts Mr. Johns had left unpaid upon his demise. To Robert, it was simply a matter of an unfeeling relation and heir which had caused Mrs. Johns’ decline into lowered circumstances. But, in Faith’s opinion, had Mr. Johns set up his accounts better when he was alive, there could have been more left for those he loved. She was certain of it, and his love of new coats and hats, as well as furnishings and such, were, in her mind, the cause.