Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Graham
I checked my pocket watch for the fifth time in two minutes. Where was she? We were set to leave a half hour ago, and I’d been standing outside by the carriage awaiting the five more minutes Lyons had promised six times over.
Typical of Anna to keep someone waiting. What was she doing in there? Adjusting her hair? Pinching bites off a crumpet? Either way, I was powerless. Forced to bend to her wishes now that she had the final say in my investment.
My stomach twisted, but I wouldn’t give in to the fear. I’d faced impossible odds before. I could do it again. I could win this game.
I’d merely have to charm the devil.
The door opened, and Mr. Lane jogged down the stairs. “She’s coming,” he assured me with a smile. “So sorry for the delay. She’s gathering things in her satchel.”
“Not to worry, Mr. Lane.” I gave him what I hoped was an amiable smile, just as a servant brought out another trunk the size of a tea cart to add to the carriage helm.
Mr. Lane laughed heartily and slapped a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t look so terrified, Everett. She won’t bite.”
“I am not so certain,” I muttered. “Perhaps you should speak with her about Ms. Peale before you leave. She might change her mind about Bath.”
His chuckled but scratched the back of his head and winced. “I do not think that is wise. Not until I speak with Ms. Peale and make my intentions known. With all sincerity, I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to host Anna on such short notice. I trust you with my daughter, Everett. She is my world. Keep her safe. Keep her happy. Should anything go wrong—”
“It won’t, sir.” I straightened my spine. Safe, I could promise. As her guardian, I’d fight off any foes, give the woman my own lifeblood if I had to.
But keeping her happy? That was an entirely different beast. I’d aim for content, and Mr. Lane would have to be merciful. My main goal for the week was to show off Brighton. Its beauty, its charm, and its people. If I could not win Anna over, perhaps they could.
He nodded once, his features firm and serious. “Safe travels, then. I shall meet you in Brighton.”
“Until then, sir.”
I watched as he hopped into his carriage, a servant closing the door behind him. And he was off.
The front door of the house opened again, a footman standing at attention, and Anna emerged with a satchel in hand. Her hair was silky and shiny and practically glowed in the sun. Soft curls bounced as she took the steps, her dress swayed with each movement, and something low in my stomach clenched. Gads, she was beautiful. Too beautiful.
“Good morning, Mr. Everett,” she clipped.
A peace offering? “Miss Lane. You are—”
“Where is your horse?” She stopped a few feet in front of me, crossing her arms around her satchel and staring hard. “I am ready to depart, but it appears you are not.”
Lud, she was fierce. She truly thought she could oust me from my own carriage, speaking to me like I was nothing more than dirt beneath her boots. That might have been true when we first met, but I’d worked hard for my place. My riding or not had nothing to do with Brighton, and no reasonable sway on her opinion of the investment.
“It looks like rain,” I lied, staring back.
She raised one delicate brow. “It absolutely does not.”
“It does,” I continued, moving aside to allow her access to the steps leading into the carriage. “You would not wish for me to catch cold. For then I would not be able to show you Brighton, and you could not accurately form your opinion for your father. Indeed, by the time I recovered, your father will have returned, and your opinion, lacking as it shall be, will be irrelevant. He will wish to form his own. With me.” I finished with a happy grin, which she returned with a fiery glare.
Thinking on it, catching cold might actually be worth a seven-hour horse ride. “So if you insist—”
Anna brushed past me, not waiting for assistance. She braced herself against the carriage doorframe as she climbed inside, followed closely by her lady’s maid. Surprised, I took that as my invitation.
“Good morning.” I nodded to her lady’s maid, taking my seat opposite the two women.
My carriage was small but sturdy. I’d bought it from an older gentleman who’d profited from one of my investment opportunities. He’d given me an unfair advantage on the price—I’d assumed from gratitude at our success—and I’d not argued.
I knocked thrice on the roof, and my driver urged the horses forward.
Anna drew in a long breath. Then another. Then she rifled through her satchel and pulled out a small brown notebook and charcoal pencil.
She opened to the first page, then her gaze met mine. “Day one,” she muttered.
Besides her maid, who had perfected the role of an invisible servant, Anna and I were alone. And that was a strange feeling. “Writing in your journal?” I tilted my head, leaning back in my seat.
Anna barely spared me a second’s glance. “Something like that.”
This was going to be the longest ride of my life. I crossed my arms, trying to get comfortable, but my mind was fixed on this week and what it meant. Convincing Anna to appreciate Brighton enough to allow her father to invest with me would be no small feat. I needed her to love Brighton, which meant I’d have to appeal to her heart, if she had one. But what could Brighton offer a woman whose every need was met at the snap of a finger?
“I think you’ll find the Steine particularly diverting.” I watched her pencil scratch along the page, then tried again. “Brighton comes alive at night. People often gather in the evenings to socialize. I shall take you tonight and you can see for yourself just how happy the people are.”
Again, silence. What in the blazes was she writing in that little book?
Knees swaying close to mine, she lifted her head, her keen eyes studying me. “I shall be tired after a long day of traveling. I shall have dinner in my room. We shall start tomorrow.”
I clenched my teeth. Devil take it, I was trying to be civil. “My mother will be very disappointed if you take dinner in your room tonight.” Ginny would be, too, if nothing more than having something to gossip about to her friends.
She continued writing, focusing on her page as she spoke. “Papa said one week. Excluding traveling, we shall have about six days.” She flipped a page in her book, angling it so I could see. “One.” She pointed to where she’d written, then circled the number. She flipped the page. “Two,” she said, working in the same fashion before flipping the next page. “Three. Four. Five. Six.”
I swallowed.
“Six days. I will approve every outing, and I promise to be fair in my opinions. My decision will be made from my general opinion of Brighton, the land you wish to acquire, and ... well, you, after staying in your home.”
“You’ve outlined the entire week already.”
“My father has taught me to be very thorough.”
“Indeed, with such thoroughness, I am surprised you do not already know the outcome.”
She shrugged one shoulder and gave me an eerily even smile. “I am quite certain I do.”
We held each other’s stare. I forced myself to breathe evenly despite the growing urge to clench my jaw. She wanted me to fail. She hated me so much, thought me so low and beneath her, she wanted to see me suffer and break. Little did she know, people like me knew how to rise from the dust and keep moving. We knew how to prove malevolent naysayers wrong. I had already come so far, earning the respect of so many people who’d assumed the worst of me. I would not let a woman with an unfounded opinion be the end.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “I am truly glad you feel that way, Miss Lane. I dearly love a challenge.”
The flicker in her eyes dulled for the shortest second. Fear? Worry? She always seemed so confident, so brash and condescending. Perhaps somewhere deep down within her, Anna was not so confident.
She said nothing more as she closed her notebook, then tucked it away in her satchel. She removed her gloves and laid them on her lap, idly examining her fingernails.
I turned my attention out the window, thinking hard.
Six days.
I had to make them count.
The streets of Brighton were noisy with shuffling shoppers, carriages creaking, and the clip-clop of horses’ hooves as we slowed to pass through town. Gigs were stopped along both sides of the road in front of the row of shops leading down to the seaside. Tourists were everywhere.
How anyone could disregard this growing town baffled me. I’d loved Brighton at first sight. I loved the bustling streets, the energy that seemed to flow as naturally as the sea. I loved the fishermen coming in with their daily catch. The pungent smells had repelled me at first, but now, they’d become home. They tasted like success and victory. The rocky shores with brilliant coloring. The English Channel stretching out in browns, greens, and blues as far as the eye could see.
Men found their livelihoods in those waters, while others found healing, hope, or adventure. When I’d first visited, I’d spent hours watching the fishermen lay out their nets to dry, listening to their boisterous conversation and seeing the life in their eyes despite how exhausted they were from the night’s work. I wanted that light. Not only for myself, but for Mother and my sisters too. They deserved reprieve after being trapped with nothing for so long.
I glanced over at Anna, crumpled against the carriage door in sleep. The moment I’d been dreading had arrived. We were nearly to Highcliffe House, but with such short notice, I hadn’t had time to warn my family of my own arrival, let alone our guest. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d returned to have my entire world be engulfed in flames. Life had taught me to expect the worst. Perhaps I ought to with Anna Lane in tow.
Brighton’s stables came into view, and I knocked on the carriage roof, loud enough to jolt Anna awake. The driver pulled over to the side, and I opened the window, calling out, “Hire a horse for me, please, Brunner.”
Anna squinted, holding her hand above her brow to shield her eyes. “Have we arrived?” The curls on the left side of her face had been smashed from where she’d leaned against the window and dreamed, and there was a crease along her cheek. The sight would have been endearing on any other woman.
“We are nearly there. I shall ride ahead and prepare my house for your arrival. My driver will bring you safely behind.”
“Is your home not always prepared?” She looked annoyed, but her voice was still soft with sleep. Almost endearing.
I drew in a steadying breath through my nose. That barb would be aimed more at my mother, and I’d love to see Anna spar with her. But this visit was work, and my home was not ready to be examined with such a critical eye. Anna would expect perfection—a fashionably decorated home, spotless guest room, lavish meals, and rooms to wander through and relax in. The reality was, she’d find a modest home decorated only with the barest necessities which we’d acquired painstakingly over time, from investment after investment, much like we had our staff. We lived comfortably and simply and without a care for anyone judging the scarcity in our library, the age of our furniture, or the condition of the blankets we slept under.
But we could pretend. Mother could make things appear better than they were. She’d done so my entire life. She just needed time.
“I’d like to see that Highcliffe House is in order and ready for your arrival,” I repeated, opening the door and stepping out.
Anna leaned forward, then reached for the door and shut me out.
Well, then.
Brunner handed me the reins to a horse from a stable house across the drive.
“Take your time,” I said after he’d resituated himself upon the driver’s seat. “Be slow on the turns.”
The man nodded his understanding and, after I’d mounted, he urged the horses into a slow trot.
I set my sights ahead. The sea stretched for miles, and I would follow it down, cut left, and meet it just outside the populated part of town.
“Faster, you.” I nudged the horse’s side, and he obeyed. Wind blew all around, buffering up my coat and ruffling my hair. My entire household was about to be thrown into similar commotion. The least I could do was give them as much warning as possible.
Down the bend and across the expanse, I led my horse off the road and gave him his head, and we cut the usual ride in half. His sure-footed pace was exhilarating. My heart pounded in my chest. Highcliffe House stood a distance away, just as I’d left it a fortnight ago, and I let out a breath of relief.
Home.
At the top of the drive, I quickly dismounted and climbed the stairs.
Roland opened the door. “Mr. Everett, is everything well?” he asked, looking past me. “Is the carriage behind you?”
“We’ve a guest,” I said as I caught my breath. “Mr. Lane’s daughter.”
Mother stepped out of the front door with wide eyes and a hand on her throat. “Graham, what has happened?”
“I have agreed to host Miss Lane for the next week, Mother. Forgive me, but I need—”
“Ready the balcony room immediately, Rebecca.” Mother spoke over me. “Harriet, alert Cook. I shall add to the menu at once. And Ginny!” She turned back into the house, calling for my sister. “Tidy the drawing room, then the music room, and for heaven’s sake, fix your hair!”
All at once, the house came alive. All three of our servants—my man, Roland, and our two maids, Rebecca and Harriet—swooped out of sight. Voices sounded, bangs and dings and shuffling echoed off the walls.
My shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Mother. This whole trip was thrust upon me. I could not object. And worse, Mr. Lane has given Anna the power to approve or deny my investment proposal. Everything must be perfect this week, down to the letter.”
“Then we mustn’t waste a moment’s time.” Mama looked out at the lawn, focused and composed despite it all. “Where is Tabitha?”
Tabs. My youngest sister. Arguably the loudest and most eccentric child in all of Brighton, and that was saying something. She needed a governess badly, but I hadn’t yet considered our budget against the necessity of it. Mother had taught her to read and write, but unfortunately much of her education came from running freely around the estate. She was likely covered in dirt and practicing the latest slang she’d read in one of Ginny’s novels.
Her manners were not yet polished enough for a woman like Anna.
“Find her.” I rubbed my face with my hands. “And send her to the vicar’s for the week.”
Mama reared back and furrowed her brow. “She is your sister, Graham. You cannot hide her away like an animal.”
“Can’t I?”
Mother smirked and tugged me inside the house that had become our refuge these past few years. Imperfect and plain, but a great deal more home than Father’s. I wondered what he’d think if he saw us here. He’d made his choices, and we’d made ours. Wherever he was, I could almost guarantee we were better off than he was.
We strode down the front hall, searching for my sister in rooms and closets to no avail.
“Miss Lane’s visit must run smoothly,” I said to Mother, who peered down the servants’ stairwell. “My investment depends upon it. This life we’ve built depends—”
“This life is our life. Our family.” Mother closed the door behind her. Her once-thin face had rounded out, but her gaze could still look sharp when she needed it to. “We are who we are. I grow tired of running from the truth. We cannot change the past nor alter who we have become because of it. We must embrace it.”
Her words were wise, but embracing the truth would not put food upon our table, nor would it provide my sisters with dowries and security. “Not yet. Not when we are so close to standing on our own feet without another man’s name to support us.”
She raised a hand and gently thumbed my cheek, then drew me into an embrace. She smelled like lavender and ginger. “We are all grateful for Mr. Lane’s support, but you are the one who brought him such lucrative investment deals. You made the connections, found the resources, and finalized the plans. That man was a bag of money, nothing more.”
“I owe him much more than that,” I said. The lessons I’d learned by working with him had built me into the man I was.
“Perhaps, but he owes you just as much. I am so immeasurably proud of you, Graham. Look at what you have done for your family. There is a roof above our heads, clothes upon our backs, food on our table, and the most beautiful views right outside our doors. You built this life for us. We have all we need right here. Anyone who sees anything but the most admirable of men in you does not deserve your time.”
I sighed, letting my shoulders rest for a moment. I was grateful my mother had found reasons to be content, but it was my duty to provide better and more, and I would. I would not stop until we had it all.
“What do I do with the embroidery?” Ginny stood in the doorway of the drawing room with a basket over her arm, loose, colorful threads dangling everywhere, even about her shoulders as though she’d bathed in them.
“Genevieve,” Mother chided, striding toward her in a rush. Her hands were a whirlwind as she worked to untangle Ginny. “What have you done?”
“My reticule required several different colors!” she trilled.
“Every color in the rainbow?” Mother’s voice raised an octave.
“It is all Graham’s fault!” Ginny screeched. “I’ve never needed to be organized before! Why have you given us only five minutes’ notice to prepare for that beast of a woman?”
“I’ve hardly had five minutes to prepare myself,” I said, shaking my head. “Her father has run off to Bath to court that woman he met several months ago.”
My family knew all about the Lanes, about my professional relationship with Mr. Lane, and my less-than-happy interactions with his daughter.
“The carriage is coming up the drive, Mr. Everett,” Roland announced from the front door.
“Blast, blast, blast,” I muttered, pacing from room to room. Where was Tabs? The dining room was spotless, library decent, and music room nearly dust-free thanks to Harriet’s quick work.Mother had insisted we furnish the room at the end of the hall on the second floor as a guest room. Unfortunately, Anna’s lady’s maid would have to double up and sleep with Rebecca or Harriet.
“Go now, Graham,” Mother said, rushing past. “I will tell the servants to find Tabitha and send her straight to her room. She and I will review manners and propriety before bed.”
“Thank you, Mother.” I would worry about all that later. For now, I looked in the mirror on the wall opposite the drawing room and adjusted my cravat, then smoothed out my hair and rubbed a bit of dirt from my jacket. I would play my part to perfection.
Roland, who acted the part of butler, footman, and valet, as well as every other job we needed of him, rushed past me to retrieve the steps for the carriage. I followed him down the front stairs to the drive just as the carriage rolled to a stop.
A deep breath of sea air calmed my nerves. Perhaps the doctors in town actually knew something about the sea’s medicinal properties. When I’d asked Mother where, in all of England she’d want to live, she’d chosen Brighton. At first, I’d dragged my feet, imagining soggy boots and sand in every crevice. But the salty air had made her smile again; perhaps it could grant me a similar balm in the coming days.
Roland laid the steps under the carriage door, then opened it as I approached. Mariah descended first, and Roland directed her to the servants’ stairs around the house.
Then Anna appeared, steadying herself within the doorframe. Our eyes met for the briefest moment, just long enough for her to get her bearings. Her hair had been readjusted, her hat pinned back on, cheeks perfectly rosy, and full lips set.
“Welcome to Highcliffe House, Miss Lane,” I greeted her, holding out my hand. She grasped my wrist instead, leaning more weight on me than I’d expected as she struggled down the stairs. “Are you well?”
“Your carriage needs realigning,” she muttered, releasing my arm and rubbing her hand on her skirts. She scrunched her nose. “And you smell like horse.”
“Thank you.” I held out my arm to lead her into the house, where my mother and sister no doubt watched from the window.
She forced a tight smile, then turned and strode toward Roland, who’d moved to open the front door. I stretched out my neck. She could not talk to me like that. Not within earshot of my servants. And especially not in front of my mother.
Roland stood still as a statue at the door. Good man. I nodded my appreciation as I followed Anna toward the house.