Chapter Thirty-Six
When he stormed out of his lawyer’s office, Richard Fielding didn’t know what he was going to do. He was at point non plus. Parsons was a fool, and Andrew, damn his eyes, had refused to help. He had nowhere to turn, and he didn’t have a feather to fly with.
Then he remembered his wife’s jewels. When Parsons had brought it up, he was talking about the jewelry that actually belonged to his wife, not the family jewels.
They had been in the family for generations and belonged, rightly, to the next Earl.
Parsons would never have considered selling them.
But over the years, Richard had given his wife bits and pieces, usually, if he was truthful, because he felt guilty about some pretty ladybird he’d bought much more expensive trinkets for.
By God, he wished he still had the blunt he’d wasted on them, one way and another.
Still, he could sell what belonged to his wife and it would give him just the start he needed at the tables.
Thinking of that, his spirits, ever volatile, rose.
He’d come around, of course he would. He’d go home and get Dottie to hand over her jewels.
She never wore them, anyway. She disliked London and they rarely had parties in the country.
Just the Open House once a year, when she’d doll herself up a bit.
In fact he’d get her to disgorge the lot, family jewels as well.
He wouldn’t wager them, of course, though now he thought about it, he was the Earl, and he had every right to do what he liked with his property.
All he needed was a run of luck. He was due for it, after all. A man couldn’t have bad luck forever.
He rode back to his townhouse, conscious of the admiring glances of passers-by, both men and women. He prided himself that he was worth looking at. He was a big, tall man and he knew he had an excellent seat. All the Doncasters had, even Andrew, though God knows he never took advantage of it.
He was especially proud of his latest mount.
Rightly called Apollo, he was a fine beast with a strong build, good length in his back, and well-made legs.
His coat had been brushed to a glossy sheen by the grooms. He’d bought the animal just the week before at Tattersalls.
Hadn’t been able to afford him, of course, but he couldn’t resist. Anyway, he’d come right by the end of the quarter.
They’d told him the previous owner had got rid of him because he was inclined to take fright at the simplest things: a bird flying suddenly out of a hedge, a woman waving a handkerchief on the linkway.
He needed a firm hand. The Earl prided himself on that, too, and had ridden him for a week without mishap.
He was inclined to think the previous owner must have been a timid sort with no go in him.
Fully intending to get an early night and start off home betimes in the morning, he surprised his cook by saying he’d be in for dinner.
But after eating an indifferent meal, for his cook had not counted on him being there, he was bored at home, kicking his heels.
He decided to take a look-in at his club.
When he got there, he wished he hadn’t gone.
A group of friends hailed him over to the whist table, but he couldn’t join them.
He didn’t have as much as a sovereign in his pocket.
His idiot of a banker had refused to advance him a penny.
Then one of them called out, for all the world to hear, “Of course! Drawing in your horns, I daresay, Doncaster! You found out sugar don’t float, what?”
He was forced to bow and smile and listen to their joking condolences before leaving and returning home in the blackest of moods.
He slept poorly and left London later than he had intended the following morning.
It would take him a couple of days to get home to his estates, which lay just outside Wisbech in the Fens.
His mood wasn’t improved by the fact that he wasn’t looking forward to being there.
He didn’t mind it in the summer. Wisbech was a nice old town with a couple of theaters, and in the warmer weather you could always be sure of something jolly at one or the other.
As a matter of fact, that’s where he’d met most of the recipients of his gifts of jewelry.
They didn’t have the town bronze of the London chorus girls, which suited him just fine.
But in the winter, it was a miserable place and dull as ditchwater.
The wind blew in from the North Sea cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey.
He’d stay there just long enough to warm Dottie up so she’d hand over the jewels.
“But I don’t understand, dear,” said his wife a few days later when he brought up the subject. “I thought we were to have enough money to buy me a new carriage. Am I not to have it after all?”
“No! And if Parsons had his way, we wouldn’t have the cattle to pull it, even if you did,” growled her lord. “He wants me to sell my horses! Imagine that! An Earl of the realm with no stable to speak of! It doesn’t bear thinking about!”
“But why, my love?” she persisted. “Why should you sell your horses? Are we so badly off? You said your latest venture was a sure thing.”
“It was a sure thing until there was a damned hurricane or typhoon or some such, and that idiot of an agent didn’t take out sufficient insurance.
It’s all Parsons’ fault. He should have made certain all that type of thing was taken care of.
” He reverted to his old refrain. “I’m just a farmer.
What do I know about international trade? ”
“But if you didn’t understand it, why did you do it?”
Her sensible questions were driving him mad, and it was as much as he could do not to tell her to go to the devil, like the rest of them. They were all against him. It was so unfair!
“It was for your sake,” he said finally, controlling his rage.
“I knew you wanted a new carriage, and well, I could do with a few new things, so I followed bad advice. What can I say? But look here, Dottie, my dear,” he put his arm around her.
“If you’ll just lend me all the jewelry, I can use it as…
as collateral to raise some money to pay the debts. ”
“But won’t you have to pay it back?”
“Yes, of course, but there’ll be no problem with that. It takes money to make money, you see. That’s how the world works. You don’t have a business brain, so it’s hard to explain it to you.”
“I know I don’t,” agreed his wife. “It’s just that — do you really think you should take the family things? It would be dreadful if they were lost. I know it’s my fault and shame that we have no children, but Andrew probably will, and he’ll expect to find the family jewels intact for his son.”
“He can expect what he likes, damn him,” replied her husband. “He’s tried to thwart me every step of the way. You were in this very room when he refused to lend me his portion for the venture I proposed. Refused me! His own brother!”
“But it’s just as well he did, isn’t it?” said his wife, who, though she might not have had a business brain, was not without common sense, “If he had given it to you, it would have been lost, too!”
“Precisely! Luckily, it wasn’t lost!” exploded her husband, “but he still refuses to help me out. He backs up Parsons with the plan to sell the horses, and the townhouse, and as for this house you’re living in, he thinks we should rent it out and move to the Dower House!”
“I quite like the Dower House,” answered his wife. “It’s cozy. You are hardly ever here, Richard, and this place is too big for me all by myself. I wouldn’t mind moving there.”
“But I would!” roared her husband. “The Earl squatting in the Dower House while some stranger lives it up at Doncaster Park House? It’s unthinkable!
Just give me the jewels, and I can work it out so that we can stay where we are and how we are.
Look here, Dottie, it’s your duty. Your duty to me and to the Doncaster name. ”
His wife’s eyes filled with tears. “Very well, Richard. But if by some mischance it should be lost, I hope you will explain it to Andrew. I know I won’t be able to.”
“Andrew!” spat the Earl. “I am not now, nor will ever be, required to explain anything to my younger brother!”