Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Graham
The next morning, Anna’s door remained closed as I descended the stairs and stepped out into the dewy dawn. I’d slept all I could, anxious for Mr. Lane’s return this afternoon and for Anna to wake so our conversation from last night could continue. I felt alive with hope and possibility, somehow wide awake despite the little sleep I’d managed.
I fed the cow and the cat, then delivered milk to Cook. I met Roland at the front of Highcliffe House with a ready horse and set off on my search.
I was well into the outskirts of Brighton before I found a patch of wild poppies. But she would love them. And how desperately, how completely I loved her.
I tied them with a ribbon I’d taken from Ginny’s box of notions, wrapped the small bouquet loosely in paper, then secured them in my saddlebag. I’d arrange a tray with all her favorites—a plate of biscuits with jam and a cup of warm tea—alongside the flowers, and have Mariah bring it to her when she awoke.
I urged my horse homeward in a gallop, slowing only when Highcliffe House came into view. A carriage waited in my drive. Was Mr. Lane here early? I gripped the reins and kicked the horse’s side. Drat it all. Anna deserved more warning than this. She would be as anxious to confront him as I.
I’d support Anna while she mended things with her father. Then I’d tell him that we could no longer invest as partners, that I was sorry I’d wasted his time but the Brighton investment I’d proposed was off the table. But, most terrifying, I would tell him that I loved his daughter and wanted to ask him for her hand.
A chill ran down my spine.
How could I ever say the words?
But the closer I rode, the easier it was to note the lack of details on the carriage. No black-and-gold crest of the Lane family. Not a polished shine, but a dull texture.
That was Tom Richards’s carriage.
Thank heavens. He’d die from shock when he learned how things between Anna and I had changed.
I dismounted as Roland came to take the horse. I unbuckled the saddlebag to remove the poppies.
“Give these to Mariah, for Miss Lane this morning,” I directed him, adding in the details for biscuits and tea.
“Graham?” Mother called, and I looked up to find Tom standing beside her in my doorway.
I raised a hand in greeting as I approached. “To what do we owe this nice surprise?”
“Everett.” Tom nodded solemnly. “May I join you in your study?”
I knew that look. Whatever news he brought, I would not want to hear it. Either his bank had taken a hit or an investment wasn’t paying out as quickly as we’d planned. “Shall we break our fasts first? It is still early yet.”
“Afraid I’m short on time.” He held his hands behind his back. Serious, then.
My stomach dropped. I nodded toward the back of the house as I entered. “Come.”
Tom followed me down the hall, closing the door behind him as I moved around my desk. My muscles were too tense to sit and wait for him to settle.
“Out with it, then. What has happened?” I asked, hands gripping the back of my chair.
He did not sit. Neither did he waste a breath. “The Bradley account. Their company has gone bankrupt.”
A beat of silence.
“Tom.” I started to laugh, watching for him to join in. The Bradley account was half my current income. A loss that big would mean devastation. I’d have to find work, or else dip into my savings—but I had plans for my savings. “Do not jest over such matters.”
He stared back hard, his entire body rigid. Silent.
I shook my head. This must be some grand misunderstanding. “Mr. Bradley has always been transparent with his numbers.”
He stood firm, with a steely gaze. “I am afraid I am quite serious. He’s been embezzling and gambling away the excess all year. I left straightaway to tell you in person, before you made any ... significant financial decisions.”
He meant purchasing the land. I rubbed my face, my throat suddenly dry. The room seemed to shift like the sea, and my stomach lurched.
Without the Bradley account, I’d have to pull money from my savings simply to live; we’d have a few years at most. And that was living very modestly.
That was without Anna.
“I need that income. I have dependents, Tom.”
Tom leaned in, talking low. “It is unfortunate, and we will take legal action against him, but honestly, Graham, this could all be much worse. Your investment has already paid out and increased substantially. Regrettably, there will be no further payments, but as things stand with your savings, you are still able to support yourself, your mother, your sisters for some time. That is saying something.”
But what about Anna? I finally sat down, legs weak and wobbly, taking steady breaths to calm the tightening in my throat. Without adequate income, I could not provide for her. I’d be inviting her into poverty. Worse, if I failed to secure more income. Not to mention the fact that her father would certainly oppose an engagement now. What could I do? How could I save this?
“It’s not enough. Without Bradley, I need the Brighton investment.”
Tom took the seat opposite me. “I strongly advise against it. Think smaller for now. Build up a bit more, then a big purchase won’t feel like such a burden.”
How long would that take? Another few years? I’d lose her. And I could not lose Anna. I stood and moved around my desk, determined to strengthen my legs, to pull out of this unsteady feeling.
“I am tired of living like my life could fall apart at any moment. I need security, Tom. Not mere stability.”
Tom threw his hands in the air. “Then you should’ve taken a job as an accountant.”
My heart raced up my throat. This couldn’t be happening to me. Not when I had everything planned. Not when, for once in my life, everything had all fallen perfectly in place.
What can I do? How can I fix this? What am I missing?My mind raced in one continuous, relentless circle. I needed money. No, I needed time. I needed the Brighton investment.
“Perhaps the seller will lease the land to me instead, then I can purchase in increments—”
“Graham.” Tom’s voice was steady, and I realized my own was shaking. “Think about this.”
I had enough money to start. I’d have to rely on buyers as they came, but with time ... “I could sell the plots before I’ve even bought in full.”
He shook his head. “Sell the land before you even own it? Are you mad, Graham?”
“One hundred percent of the profits would be mine.” It was mad, yes, but it could work. “And I wouldn’t need Mr. Lane. We’d be fine. Better than fine.”
How could he not see? I spun around to face him.
Tom looked at me like I’d truly lost my mind. “You are making plans for a future based on assumptions. And without a partner to make the financial sacrifice bearable.”
“Perhaps, but if I took the risk, I would own Brighton land and control the income. This big of a hit would never happen again.”
“If, if, if.” Tom hit the desk with his palm. “If you can sell the plots. If they sell quickly and not one at a time over years. Whether or not you pay at once, you tie up all your money in one fell swoop if you agree to this purchase. You risk too much.”
But without it? How could I support my family, let alone a wife who was accustomed to luxury, and later, a family of my own? I needed more. Lest I lose everything.
“I must consider it.”
He stood abruptly, red crawling up his neck, his tone clipped and harsh. “You are not thinking with your head. I don’t know when it happened to you—this pride, this greed—but stability used to be enough. Stability was what drove you to invest in the first place.”
His words struck me like daggers, and I reared back.
Tom’s face fell. He rubbed his forehead, then looked up. “Forgive me. As your banker, I’ve overstepped.”
Heavy silence pulsed between us, pulling our frustrations taut.
“But as your friend ...” Tom shifted his feet, his jaw set. “Your family is safe. They are happy. Don’t risk that.”
He let himself out of my study, and I sank back into my wooden chair. True, my family had survived on less. But I’d worked so blasted hard to give us more. To be more. And I had finally had everything I’d ever worked for—a house to be proud of, servants employed, and Anna. I had Anna.
What had I to offer her now beyond food and shelter? A tattered sofa, secondhand furniture, not even a pianoforte. Replacing them would mean taking from savings. Without the steady income from the Bradley account, we could not live as we’d been living the past two years.
I stood, my breaths so shallow my head felt light and full of wind. Tom was right. But how could I tell Anna? How would she look at me if she knew I’d just lost half my income and would have to substantially alter my budget in order to live?
My future as I’d seen it only hours ago slipped away, like water through my fingers. No matter how hard I tried, I could not hold it.
I hated my father for abandoning us. Hated him for leaving me with a dying farm and no means by which I might save it. I hated how embarrassed I’d been, arriving on Mr. Lane’s doorstep with nothing more than my late grandfather’s name and hope for a connection. Yet, he had kindly received me, and oh, how desperately I had wanted to be like him.
Look at me now,I thought. Nothing has changed. I was still the same worthless boy barely managing to keep his family together.
No, some men weren’t born to have it all. Some of us were destined to pretend.
Pretend such meager savings were large enough that I could walk side by side with men whose unfathomable wealth spanned generations. Pretend I hadn’t restructured half my house and its holdings with my own two hands instead of hiring out. Pretend I deserved a woman so beautiful, so rare, despite the countless nights I’d lost sleep trying to keep the money coming in.
She deserved a better life. She deserved to want for nothing.
Heat engulfed me, my pride a welcome pool of relief. I could not tell her the whole of my misfortune. I would simply have to find an alternative before asking for her hand.
Tom had left the door ajar, and after a brief knock, it opened.
“Graham? There you are,” Ginny said. Her gaze sharpened. “Are you unwell?”
I pulled a random book from a shelf and turned back to my desk. I swallowed hard and tried to sound nonchalant. “Thinking over business matters with Mr. Richards. What do you need?”
She blew a piece of hair from her sight. “Ah, yes. Well. I’m half embarrassed to say, but my stays are growing tight.”
Another expense. I nodded. “Very tight?”
“I’m a woman, Graham. When I eat, I gain weight in my—”
“Very well. Very well.” I waved a hand to stop her.
“We’ve been eating so well with Anna here.” She laughed. “It isn’t dire, but yes.”
The fact that she asked at all meant it was dire. But I appreciated her attempt to give me the leeway.
“If Ginny gets new stays, then Iwant new shoes!” Tabs called as she stomped into my study. “Mine have holes!”
“They do not,” Mother said, rounding the corner after her.
“Well, my toes are pinched, and I’m certain holes will appear any day now!”
Mother chuckled, then sighed. “She is growing as well, I suppose.”
Stays. Shoes.
I plastered a smile on my face. “I shall write it all down. We’ll make a special trip in the coming weeks.”
“Oh, can we take our list to London?” Ginny leaned against my desk and picked at her nails. “We could all squish in that little room you always rent. Things are so much better done there.”
A trip to London would cost ...
“It has been a time since we left Brighton,” Mother agreed. “And having Anna here ... She is so elegant and accomplished. Perhaps London would rub off on us.”
I set aside the book in my hands. “Yes. Well, Anna comes from a very different lifestyle than we are accustomed to.”
“She does,” Mother agreed.
Ginny’s eyes grew wide. “Perhaps she’d invite us!” she exclaimed. “Show us around. Introduce us to her friends.”
“We could see Anna’s house!” Tabs agreed.
My head started to pulse. I’d thought I’d designed the perfect life for us here, away from all that. “We cannot invite ourselves. And London is an unnecessary expense. We have everything we need right here in Brighton.”
Ginny groaned. “Anna would invite us. It would cost us nothing.”
I looked up at her, at the easy way she tossed around our finances as though they were fluid and simple to manage. My nostrils flared, and I raised a pointed finger. “Let me tell you something, sister.” My words were clipped, jaw ticking. “Nothing in life comes without a cost. Even if you are not the one who pays it.”
She jerked back, nose scrunched, and looked to Mother.
“Come, girls,” Mother said, frowning at me. “Let us leave your brother to his thoughts.”
Tabs bounded from the room while Ginny stood from my desk and turned. She held the doorframe and cast an ugly look over her shoulder.
“Never mind the stays. I can manage on my own. You’ve ruined the very idea of them.”
“Genevieve.” My voice was too rough, too deep. Too much like my father’s. Still, I stood, hands fisted, with half a mind to follow and release every grievance upon her. If she only knew.
Mother raised her palms. “She’s upset. Give her a moment to come to her senses. What you said was equally offensive.”
Slowly, I sat, eyes fixed on every unanswered correspondence left scattered on my desk.
Mother stepped closer to me. “What did Mr. Richards come to say?”
I cleared my throat and sat back. I needed out of here. I needed room to think things through. “The usual ups and downs of investments.”
“Downs, it would seem,” Mother muttered.
“Is there anything more you need?” I could hear the whip in my voice, feel the guilt rising up in my chest. The skies outside my window had darkened, the shadows in the room growing longer in each corner.
Mother raised a brow and put my stray pen back in its jar. “Go have a walk. Breathe in the sea air. Before Mr. Lane arrives.”
My throat tightened. Anna.
I palmed my eyes. “Has Anna come down yet?”
“Mariah just went up. With a beautiful bouquet of poppies.” Another raised brow.
I looked past her to the door. “I’ll return,” I said.
Mother stepped back, out of the way of the door. “I know you will.”