CHAPTER TWO #2
"You're not actually reading that," she said finally, breaking the silence more out of boredom than any desire for conversation.
Sebastian looked up. "I beg your pardon?"
"The newspaper. You've turned three pages in the last minute. Either you're the fastest reader in England, or you're using it as a shield."
"A shield against what?"
"Against having to speak to me, I imagine."
Sebastian folded the paper with deliberate care and set it aside. "Would you prefer that I speak to you?"
"I would prefer not to spend the next three hours in suffocating silence. But if that is the alternative you favour, I shall endeavour to accommodate."
"Always so accommodating, Lady Harriet."
"I try."
Something flickered across his face, amusement, perhaps, or exasperation. It was difficult to tell with Sebastian. He had perfected the art of revealing nothing while appearing to reveal everything.
"Very well," he said. "What shall we discuss?"
"You might tell me about these business matters with my father's solicitor. You were rather vague on the subject last night."
"I was vague because I don't know the details myself. Thornton's letter mentioned only that my presence was required to resolve some outstanding matters related to your brother's estate."
"Richard's estate?" Harriet frowned. "What could that possibly have to do with you?"
"I don't know. That's rather the point of making this journey…to find out."
"But you must have some idea. You were Richard's closest friend. If there were matters left unresolved…"
"There are always matters left unresolved when someone dies young." Sebastian's voice had gone flat. "That's rather the tragedy of it. All the things left unsaid, undone, unfinished."
Harriet fell silent. She had meant to press him further, but something in his tone made her hesitate. He was not, she realised, being deliberately evasive. He genuinely didn't know what awaited them at Fordshire Park, and the uncertainty was bothering him more than he wanted to admit.
"Richard trusted you," she said quietly. "Whatever this is, I'm certain he would have wanted you involved."
Sebastian looked at her, and for just a moment, his mask slipped. She saw surprise there, and something else, something that might have been gratitude, quickly suppressed.
"Thank you," he said. "That's... kind of you to say."
"I'm not kind. I'm merely stating a fact."
"Of course. Forgive me for suggesting otherwise."
The carriage hit a particularly deep rut, jolting them both. Harriet reached out instinctively to steady herself and found her hand closing around the edge of the seat, inches from Sebastian's knee.
She pulled back quickly. Too quickly, perhaps Sebastian's eyebrow rose slightly, though he said nothing.
"Tell me about your mother," he said, breaking the awkward moment. "You said she was unwell. What exactly did her letter say?"
Harriet hesitated. It felt strange to share her worry with Sebastian, of all people. But the alternative was returning to silence, and she found she didn't want that.
"She said she was 'somewhat unwell,'" Harriet said. "Which, knowing my mother, could mean anything from a mild cold to a serious illness. She has a tendency to understate her difficulties."
"A family trait, I suspect."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Merely that the Fordshire women are not known for admitting weakness. I remember your mother once hosting a dinner party with a broken wrist, because she refused to cancel and inconvenience her guests."
"That was years ago. How do you remember that?"
"I remember many things." Sebastian's voice was neutral, but something in his eyes made Harriet's breath catch. "Your family was... important to me. To Richard. By extension, to me as well."
By extension. Such a careful phrase. Such a deliberate distancing.
"You speak as though you've lost us," Harriet said. "As though Richard's death severed some connection."
"Didn't it?"
"My mother writes to you. You said so yourself."
"Your mother is gracious. But I am under no illusions about my standing with the rest of the family.
" He paused, and when he continued, his voice was quieter.
"I know you blame me, Lady Harriet. For various things.
Some of them perhaps justified, others..
." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter.
The point is, I would not presume to consider myself part of your family's circle. Not anymore."
"I don't…" Harriet stopped, unsure what she meant to say. I don't blame you? But she did, didn't she? She had for years. The poetry, the laugh, the humiliation, it was all still there, a weight she carried without thinking about it.
Except now she was thinking about it. Now she was looking at Sebastian Vane and seeing not the villain of her imagination but a man who had lost his closest friend and been pushed away by that friend's family.
A man who still carried grief like a stone in his chest, who couldn't sleep at night, who spoke of regrets in the darkness and then pretended in the morning that nothing had been said.
"Perhaps," she said slowly, "I have been too quick to judge."
Sebastian's expression flickered surprise, quickly masked. "Have you?"
"I'm not certain. But I'm... willing to consider the possibility."
It was not an apology. It was not forgiveness. But it was something…a crack in the wall she had built, letting in the smallest sliver of light.
Sebastian studied her for a long moment, as though trying to determine whether she was sincere. Whatever he saw in her face seemed to satisfy him.
"That's more than I expected," he said quietly. "Thank you."
They rode on in silence, but it was a different silence now less hostile, more thoughtful. Harriet watched the countryside pass and wondered what she had just set in motion.
They arrived at Fordshire Park shortly before noon.
The house rose up from its surrounding gardens like an old friend, its familiar red brick and white trim a sight that never failed to make Harriet's heart lift.
She had grown up here, played in these gardens, hidden in the library alcove to read when she should have been practicing her needlework.
Whatever had changed in her life, and much had changed, Fordshire Park remained constant.
But as the carriage rolled up the drive, Harriet noticed something strange. There were no servants visible in the grounds, no signs of the usual bustle that accompanied daily life on a country estate. The house looked... quiet. Too quiet.
"Something's wrong," she said, leaning forward to peer through the window.
Sebastian had noticed it too. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand had moved unconsciously to the carriage door.
"It may be nothing," he said. "The household may simply be occupied elsewhere."
"My mother is ill. There should be servants everywhere, attending to her needs."
"Let's not assume the worst until we know more."
The carriage rolled to a stop before the front entrance, and Harriet was out the door before the footman could assist her. She took the steps two at a time, her heart pounding with anxiety that had nothing to do with the exertion.
The front door opened before she reached it, revealing the pale, worried face of Mrs. Briggs, the housekeeper.
"Lady Harriet! Thank heavens you've come. Your mother has been asking for you."
"Is she all right? What's happened?"
"She's resting comfortably, my lady. The physician visited yesterday and declared her much improved, it was a chill, nothing more, though it gave us all quite a fright.
" Mrs. Briggs' eyes moved past Harriet to where Sebastian was emerging from the carriage.
"And Lord Vane. Mr. Thornton has been expecting you, my lord. He arrived this morning."
"The solicitor?" Sebastian's voice was sharp. "He was supposed to meet us tomorrow."
"He said the matter was urgent, my lord. He's waiting in the study."
Harriet felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. Urgent matters. Solicitors. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, and the picture they formed was not reassuring.
"I want to see my mother," she said.
"Of course, my lady. I'll take you to her directly." Mrs. Briggs hesitated, glancing at Sebastian again. "Perhaps his lordship might speak with Mr. Thornton while you visit Lady Fordshire? There are... things that need to be discussed."
"What things?" Harriet demanded. "What is going on?"
Mrs. Briggs' face was a study in careful blankness. "I think it best if your mother explains, my lady."
Harriet turned to Sebastian, who was watching the exchange with an expression she couldn't read.
"Go to your mother," he said quietly. "I'll speak with Thornton and find out what this is about."
"If it concerns my family…"
"Then I'll tell you everything I learn. I promise."
It was strange, trusting Sebastian Vane with something so important. But there was something in his eyes, a steadiness she had not noticed before that made her believe him.
"Very well," she said. "But if you keep anything from me…"
"I won't." He held her gaze. "You have my word."
Harriet nodded once, then turned to follow Mrs. Briggs up the stairs. Behind her, she heard Sebastian's footsteps moving in the opposite direction, toward the study and whatever revelations awaited him there.
She had the distinct feeling that nothing would ever be quite the same again.
***
Lady Fordshire was sitting up in bed when Harriet entered, propped against a mountain of pillows with a book open on her lap. She looked thinner than Harriet remembered, and paler, but her eyes were bright and sharp as ever.
"Finally," she said, setting aside her book. "I was beginning to think you'd lost your way."
"The roads were terrible." Harriet crossed to the bed and took her mother's hand, relieved to find it warm. "How are you feeling?"
"Better now that you're here. Though I suspect I'll feel less pleased once I've explained why I summoned you."
Harriet felt her stomach tighten. "Mrs. Briggs mentioned that there were things to discuss."
"Yes, well. Mrs. Briggs has a gift for understatement." Lady Fordshire patted the edge of the bed. "Sit, darling. This may take a while."
Harriet sat, still holding her mother's hand. Up close, she could see the lines of worry etched into Lady Fordshire's face, lines that had not been there a year ago, when Harriet had last visited.
"You're frightening me, Mama."
"I don't mean to. But there's no gentle way to say what needs to be said, so I'll simply say it." Lady Fordshire took a breath. "We're in debt, Harriet. Serious debt. Your father's gambling, your brother's attempts to rescue the estate, it’s all come to a head."
"How serious?"
"Serious enough that we may lose Fordshire Park."
The words hit Harriet like a physical blow. Lose Fordshire Park? This house, this land, the only home she had ever known?
"How?" she managed. "How did it come to this?"
"Your father was... not prudent with money.
You knew that. What you didn't know.what Richard tried so hard to hide, was the extent of the damage.
By the time your brother inherited, there was little left but debts and obligations.
" Lady Fordshire's voice was steady, but her hand trembled slightly in Harriet's grip.
"Richard spent the last years of his life trying to set things right. He made progress, but then..."
"The accident."
"Yes. And with him gone, the creditors lost patience. They've been circling like vultures for months, and now they're finally closing in."
"What about the London house? The investments?"
"The London house is mortgaged. The investments were liquidated years ago, to pay off the most pressing debts." Lady Fordshire sighed. "There's nothing left, Harriet. Nothing except the estate itself, and even that may not be enough."
Harriet's mind was reeling. She had known things were difficult, Richard had hinted as much, in his oblique way, but she had never imagined it was this bad.
"What does any of this have to do with Lord Vane?" she asked. "Mrs. Briggs said Mr. Thornton was waiting for him specifically."
Lady Fordshire was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was careful.
"Your brother had borrowed money from Lord Vane a substantial sum, to pay off the most dangerous creditors.
Sebastian…" She paused, as though catching herself.
"Lord Vane never asked for repayment. He told Richard the money was a gift, between friends.
But when Richard died, the debt became part of the estate, which means… "
"It has to be repaid."
"Or accounted for, at least. Mr. Thornton says that Lord Vane's claim must be acknowledged before we can settle with the other creditors."
"But if Lord Vane never wanted the money back…"
"What he wants and what the law requires are different things." Lady Fordshire squeezed Harriet's hand. "I don't blame him, darling. He's been nothing but gracious about the whole matter. It's simply... complicated."
Complicated. That seemed to be the word of the day. Harriet thought of Sebastian, sitting in the study with Mr. Thornton, learning the full extent of the disaster that had befallen her family. Learning that he was owed a fortune by people who could not possibly pay it.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"Now, we wait for Mr. Thornton and Lord Vane to finish their discussion. There may be options, arrangements that can be made to satisfy the creditors without selling the estate. But I won't lie to you, Harriet. The situation is dire."
Harriet sat with that for a moment, allowing the reality of it to sink in. Everything she had grown up taking for granted, the security, the comfort, the certainty of always having a home to return to was all at risk.
"I should speak with Mr. Thornton myself," she said finally. "If my family's future is being decided, I want to be part of the discussion."
"I thought you might say that." Lady Fordshire smiled a small, tired smile, but genuine. "You've always been the stubborn one. Go, then. But Harriet?"
"Yes?"
"Lord Vane is not our enemy. Whatever your feelings about him, remember that."
Harriet thought of Sebastian's face in the carriage, the grief in his voice when he spoke of Richard, the steadiness in his eyes when he promised to tell her everything.
"I'm beginning to understand that," she said quietly.
She left her mother to rest and went to join the men in the study.