Chapter Nine #2
“The messenger said you might say that and asked that I tell you his name is John. He most heartily begs your forgiveness for the interruption, but it is quite necessary. He said the situation could be most dire for even more than those who reside at Wakefield.” For the first time since Drake had met the butler, the man looked pained.
“You said it was John?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Damn and blast,” Drake muttered, then jerked back to his senses. “Forgive my coarseness, ladies.”
“Go,” Felicity said with a tip of her head at the door.
“It would seem best that you do so,” Serendipity added.
“We are not done here,” he told Felicity. “I refuse to lose you.”
Her bottom lip trembling and her eyes glimmering with the sheen of tears, she nodded again. “Go.”
More disheartened than he had ever been in his life, Drake rose and bowed to the three of them. “Good afternoon, ladies.” Then he hurried out, damning the ill timing of whatever his fool uncle had done this time.
As soon as the front door closed behind him, he confronted John. “What the bloody hell has he done now?”
Striding alongside him, the loyal stable keeper gave a sad shake of his head. “Himself got a letter. A rough-looking sort delivered it. Yateston said soon as himself read it, he sent for you. Said you had to come quick. Life or death, he said.”
I should have left him on his own and let him stew in the mess he created. Drake didn’t say the words aloud, knowing that the three remaining staff of Wakefield Manor as much as worshipped the ground his uncle walked upon. Why they did so, he would never fathom, but their loyalty was unshakable.
He arrived at his uncle sitting in the entry hall, head bowed, and the letter in his hands.
“I am so very sorry,” Uncle George whispered as he handed it over.
There were only seven words written in large, bold letters on the paper bearing the name of Rum and Catherty Counting House preprinted across the bottom: We know, and you both will pay.
Drake went cold as death. Those words could mean only one thing. “How do they know, Uncle? What have you not told me?”
“They beat it out of me,” Uncle George said, keeping his head bowed. “That day in the garden.”
“You said they asked nothing. You said you told them nothing.”
“I lied.”
“And now you have damned us both straight to hell.” Drake threw down the paper and turned away before he lost his temper and struck the old man.
“You realize the power you gave them? Not only do you still owe them money, but you handed them my neck in a noose for impersonating a peer to save your sorry arse from the death threats.” Drake hit the wall with his fist, cracking the plaster.
“They will blackmail us now, you ignorant bastard. You do realize that, do you not?”
“What the hell was I supposed to do?” his uncle shouted. “Taken the beating and remained silent?”
“That is what an honorable man would have done. A reformed man trying for a second chance.”
“Well, we both know I have never been an honorable man. Nor am I reformed. I simply ran out of options.”
“You selfish bastard. I should have let them kill you.” Drake shook his head. “But in honor of my father and the image of the man I once thought you were, I risked everything to save you, and now I am just as ruined.”
“Not if you marry that girl,” Uncle George argued. “With that dowry, you can pay them off.”
“They will bleed us all dry! There will never be a way to pay them off. Are you that great of a fool?” Drake shook his fist, aching to slam it into his uncle’s jaw.
“As long as you live, they have this lie to hold over my head.” He grabbed hold of the bath chair’s armrests and went nose to nose with the sniveling man.
“They own us both now, you old bastard. Our lives are not our own.”
His uncle bared his teeth. “Then kill me. Bring us both some relief.”
“Do not tempt me,” Drake said with a low, throaty growl, then pushed himself away before he did the old man damage.
He paced in a tight circle, raking his hands through his hair.
“I do not see a way out of this. We have no money. No credit. All I have is this land, and I will not part with my father’s land.
” He glared at his uncle. “He was a man of honor. Unlike you.”
“Then what do we do?” Uncle George asked with a weary flip of his hands.
“I do not know.” Backed against the wall, Drake slumped to the floor with his head in his hands. He had as much as lost his precious Felicity, and now this. He had half a mind to take his uncle to Rum and Catherty and hand him over.
“You could sell part of the land,” Uncle George quietly suggested. “Your father often bemoaned having so much to watch over.”
“I will not sell my father’s land.” Drake drew in a ragged breath and blew it out. “This house and that land are all I have left of him, and I have dishonored that memory enough. You squandered all of yours. Keep your bloody hands off mine.”
“Well, it probably would not be enough, anyway.”
“We will never have enough to satisfy them. Have you not realized that by now?”
His uncle blew out a dismal huff and folded his gnarled hands in his lap. “I suppose all we can do now is wait.”
“Wait?”
Uncle George nodded. “They will send their demands in a few days. They wish to give us time to stew about what they intend to do with us. Much like cats, Rum and Catherty enjoy toying with their prey before they go in for the kill.”
“We are already dead,” Drake said, holding his head in his hands. “And this is hell.”
*
“He renounced your dowry,” Merry quietly reminded Felicity as they strolled among the roses. “That has to count for something.”
“I want to believe him,” Felicity said, more to herself than her sister. “He seemed sincere.”
“He did indeed, and we know Nedia and the rest of those cows are consummate liars.”
“What I do not understand is why.” Felicity paused and cradled a velvety red rose in her hand, breathing in the sweetness of its scent. “What have I ever done to them?”
“Cruelty needs no reason. It merely needs a target.” Merry continued to the yellow roses a few steps up ahead. “They were probably bored and thought it entertaining to make themselves a part of the gossip already surrounding you and Lord Wakefield. Boredom can be a dangerous thing.”
“I wonder what ill befell Wakefield Manor that dragged him away in such a hurry.” He had not wanted to leave. That was clear enough, and yet another reason for Felicity to believe he was telling the truth.
“I do not believe he was going to go until Fipps gave him the messenger’s name.
That John person must be one of the few servants remaining at the estate.
” Merry waited for Felicity to join her, and they continued along the path.
“This truly does not seem to be his fault. What do you think you will do?”
“I do not know.” Felicity had still been made such a fool over the entire ordeal, and those whom she thought were her trusted friends had unknowingly joined in and hurt her even more.
It would be exceedingly difficult for her to look at Mrs. Caruthers and Mrs. Beatrice the same way ever again.
“I never thought to be the talk of the ton. I have always been invisible.”
“You must decide which is more important to you,” Serendipity said as she caught up with them. “Lord Wakefield or gossip.”
“But gossip is so cruel, and difficult to ignore.” Felicity ran a finger along the ruby-red bloom’s stem and barely tapped on the first thorn.
Such sweet beauty and also such pain. She huffed a soft laugh.
Love was much the same. It could be so beautiful until it drew blood.
“Do you think Lord Wakefield and I would ever escape the gossip swirling around us?”
“Of course you would,” Merry said. “As soon as they become bored with you and move on to the next poor soul. The best thing you can do is live your life as you see fit. Face the fools head-on and refuse to allow them to steal your happiness.” She held her head higher.
“You do not need them. You have your wonderful sisters.”
“Indeed, I do.” Felicity readily admitted that she would be lost without her family, even though they sometimes drove her to the brink of madness itself.
“Speaking of which,” Serendipity said, “we shall be going to Winterswick for a few days. Our Joy is having a garden party, and all the family is invited.”
The delight of seeing her precocious nieces and nephews did little to ease the worry of setting aside the absolute mess of her courting and leaving it unresolved. “When?” Felicity currently felt more like running and hiding rather than mingling with her large family.
“In a fortnight.” Serendipity produced the letter, scanning the contents.
“She apologizes for the short notice, but it appears our dear nephew, Lion, has learned to run rather than walk. Since Joy does not trust leading strings, the entire household is in a constant state of disarray, helping Nanny to catch him.” She looked up from the page and smiled.
“With Lion, Ross, Rorie, Quill, Remy, Gwynnie, Connor, and Sissy, this visit should be just the thing.”
While Felicity adored her lively nieces and nephews and dearly loved Wolfe’s younger siblings, Connor and Sissy, the entire affair would soon devolve into barely controlled chaos that would surely give the ton even more to gossip about the Broadmeres.
And currently, she would much rather crawl into a hole and hide, rather than deal with her prying siblings and their spouses.
“It will be just the thing for what?” She squared her shoulders.
“I feel I should remain here and attend to the tattered fabric of my courtship.”
Serendipity gave her a slightly damning look.
“One must always support family, and Joy needs our assistance. Would you deny your own sister your help?” She tapped the letter again.
“She specifically requested your help with the menus. You know how much you enjoy that. Come now. Would you truly wish to miss it? Miss time visiting with the children?”
Felicity threw up her hands and turned away. “Do not badger me, Seri. Has today not been trying enough already? For heaven’s sake, I need a bit of quiet to reflect and consider how to move forward.”
Serendipity eyed her for a long moment, then nodded as she refolded the letter. “Indeed, it has. Forgive me, Felli.” She motioned for Merry to follow her. “Call for us if you need us. The garden is the perfect place to sort your thoughts. Mama’s roses always seem to help me.”
“They help me too,” Felicity admitted with a sad smile. “Thank you.”
She watched them go, her heart not only heavy but confused.
Drake had seemed so sincere. She had believed him even before he had told her to keep her dowry, but had she believed him because she couldn’t bear the thought of life without him, or because he had convinced her that they were victims of malicious gossip?
She wanted to think it was the latter, but she simply didn’t know anymore.
She was somewhat ashamed at how quickly she had believed the worst about him.
Did that mean that, deep down, she didn’t truly believe he was more interested in her than her money? That revelation was worrisome.
She forged deeper into the roses, coming upon the bush that Papa had planted right after Mama had died.
Its flowers were supposed to blossom with snowy whiteness to symbolize the purity of their love, but it had never bloomed.
While it was healthy and its leaves a vibrant, glossy green, no one could discover why the precious bush, placed in the garden three days after the funeral, never flourished enough to produce any roses.
But no one had the heart to order it removed.
They all decided that the bush refused to flower because Mama and, six months later, Papa were gone.
“How do I stop being the timid mouse?” Felicity asked the plant as she seated herself on the bench beside it.
“Drake has worked his way into my heart, but I cannot seem to shake free of all my doubts. Why? Why can I not have the confidence of my sisters? Forge ahead and grab hold of life. Take risks. At least try to be more…courageous?”
Chance and the girls would never allow harm to come to her.
Even if she tried and failed, her family would always be her safe haven.
And Merry was right. Once the gossips grew bored with her and Drake, they would move on to some other poor soul—possibly even one of themselves.
One never knew when the tongue-tattlers might turn on each other.
“I need to be brave.” She fisted her hands in her lap. “It does not matter what the gossips say. I am the one to live my life by my terms, not theirs.”
And when Drake had said she could keep her dowry, he had meant it. She had seen it in his eyes, and Merry had seen it as well. That amounted to something. The more she remembered the rundown state of Wakefield Manor, the more she realized that his forfeiting that money mattered a great deal.
Nervously chewing on her bottom lip, she concluded with a firm nod, “We will continue to court, and move past this as best we can—and the next time I see Nedia, I shall spit on her shoes.”