Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Graham
Mother waited until the Lane carriage had disappeared down the drive before rounding on me.
“Why did Anna leave in such a state?” she asked harshly. “Tell me at once before I die of humiliation.”
I stood firm. I could not keep such an enormous secret from my family, not when I was bursting at the seams with problems that concerned us all. But that did not mean I had to tell all three of them at once. I’d start with the obvious.
“Miss Lane did not wish to stay. She was unwell.”
“She was fine this morning, until the two of you returned from your walk.” Ginny’s words were an accusation.
“Whether Miss Lane is unwell or not is none ofyour concern, Graham,” Mother chided. “She is old enough, she is of age, and by speaking out in front of her father with such force and familiarity as you did—”
“Embarrassing, even for you,” Ginny added, with Tabs at her side.
“I am not a fool,” I said sharply. I left them, moving into the drawing room, but they followed me. Mr. Lane’s expression had said it all—I’d spoken out of turn; I’d spoken to Anna like she was already mine to speak for. I’d attempted to keep some semblance of control over my life, but everything had completely fallen apart. He’d expect an explanation, one that I was not yet prepared to give.
Mother’s frustration settled, and she took my arms in her hands. “She is not yours to speak for, Graham. Not unless you ask her, and she accepts.”
“Wait a moment.” Ginny touched our arms, then laughed in clear disbelief. “Graham, you’re not in love with Anna?”
My shoulders fell in resignation. Why was I fighting against my own family? To save myself from their pity? We were a family. And I could no longer hold the weight of my burdens alone.
Besotted. Every worthless bit of me.
Tabs must’ve noticed the change in me, for she sucked in a breath. “I knew it! I knew it all along!”
“It does not signify,” I said to Mother. “I need more time before I can offer for her. Tom brought unfortunate news this morning. The Bradley account ... It’s gone.”
Mother raised a hand to her chest. “What?”
“What is the Bradley account?” Ginny looked between us, worry creasing her features. “Our savings?”
“No, but a good portion of our income,” Mother answered shakily.
I hated that the women in my household knew so much about our finances, that they had to worry at all. “We’ll be fine.”
“Yes. Of course. We shall manage,” Mother added.
“No, we won’t,” Tabs cried. “Not without Anna!”
Her little face scrunched, tears welling in her eyes, and I understood. I wanted nothing more than to cry and scream and shake my fists. What was money, what was this house, this view, without Anna? She’d brought life into our home, and I’d pushed her away.
“We can sell my harp,” Ginny said, serious and resolved. “It’s an antique. It will fetch a good price. Enough to pay for Anna’s expenses for a year, maybe two. It will give you time to find something more.”
A lump settled firmly in my throat. “Ginny, I would never sell your harp.”
She turned to Mother. “What else do we have? Books?”
Mother snapped her fingers, her mind alive behind her eyes. “I have a lovely jeweled necklace your father gave me when we were young. I’ve been holding on to it in case of an emergency—”
“This is an emergency!” Tabs said with feeling. “You have to go and get her now, Graham, and bring her back!”
“If you love her,” Ginny said.
I nodded, feeling more the grieving boy freshly home from Cambridge than the wiser man I’d been forced to become. And certainly more humbled.
“I do.”
“Yes!” Tabs jumped up atop the settee.
“Absolutely not!” Mother scolded her. “Down!”
Ginny grinned. “Let us hope she hasn’t already come to her senses.”
Mother drew out a paper and pen and ink, handing everything to Ginny, who marked even lines from one side to another. “The harp, the necklace ...”
“I could sell my shell collection!” Tabs chimed in.
“Girls,” I said sternly. I could not allow this. “No one is selling anything.”
“Oh, and I have a ring!” Mother chimed in, waving toward the paper.
I fell into a nearby chair, listening to the three of them plan and plot and scratch nibs on paper, too exhausted to argue. I missed Anna already. Hated myself for letting her go. Would she have understood if I had told her the whole of it? How poorly we’d been living so I could build my savings? I couldn’t have borne the pity in her eyes. No, I needed to be the man she deserved. I’d give her everything first, then I’d tell her.
Minutes ticked by, when suddenly, a loud rap landed harshly upon the door.
Roland moved past the drawing room door, then announced, “Mr. Lane.”
I instantly sobered. Anna’s father? Here?
“Go,” Mother commanded me, yanking Tabs’s arm and moving toward the left front corner of the room with Ginny. She’d calculated just right, for Mr. Lane bounded into the room, puffed up and tense. Perhaps he’d heard about the Bradley account. Though the loss would hurt him much less than it had hurt me.
“Mr. Lane,” Mother said, curtseying. “What a lovely surprise to see you again so soon. We were just leaving. Good day.”
“Good day,” he said gruffly. “Everett.”
I waited until they’d left, Roland closing the doors behind them, before offering Mr. Lane a seat. “Allow me to apologize for my forwardness earlier.”
“Very good. You were out of sorts. We all were.”
I nodded. Why had he come? “Is Miss Lane well?”
“She is resting.” Mr. Lane crossed his legs, then uncrossed them. Then he sniffed and squared his knees. “We spoke in the carriage. I have been thoughtless on many accounts, Everett. I shall have to earn back her trust. But I will do anything for my daughter.”
Brave girl. She’d already spoken to him. Pride swelled my heart, as did that familiar claim linking me to her. “Mr. Lane, I—”
“I have not had more than the ride over to think this through,” he said, shifting again in his seat.
“Sir?”
“I had the passing thought,” he started, then stifled a laugh, “how dreadfully funny it would be if she was jesting with me, just so I’d make a fool of myself, coming over here, demanding things. Because that would be like Anna, you understand. She has a sharp wit like her mother. Loves to play. She feels things very deeply and must have laughter, or she’ll go mad.”
The very sound of her name gave me a measure of confidence. Enough to face the discomfort of this conversation with her father, no matter his reaction. I drew in steady breaths. Listening. Waiting for whatever Mr. Lane wasn’t saying.
He tilted his head, then crossed his legs again. “Did my daughter kiss you, Everett?”
By George, I hadn’t expected that. A rush of blood warmed my face. How did he know? Had she told him? I shifted in my seat, parting my lips, then closing them. He did not seem angry at the possibility. Though neither did he seem particularly pleased. I steeled my resolve.
“She did.”
“Dash it all, that girl.” He shook his head, chuckling at some private thought. “Well? What did you do?”
I washed a hand over my face. Was it not obvious? “I, uh, I kissed her back, sir.”
“No, you ignorant boy. What did you do to make her kiss you in the first place?”
Now that was a reasonable question. “I’ve no idea,” I answered blankly.
“Well, then.” Mr. Lane slapped his hands on his thighs, still amused, but as serious and formal as though we were discussing an investment proposal. “Shall we move to your study?”
Equal parts relief and terror split through me. Relief that he might actually consider an arrangement. Terror at the thought of him hearing just how unworthy I was. “Mr. Lane—”
“We will resolve this here and now, Everett, if you want anything more to do with me. Certainly, if you want the Brighton investment.” He stood, starting to walk toward the foyer.
I shook my head. He had it all wrong. “My relationship with Anna is not connected to the work you and I engage in, sir. I told her I would forfeit the investment, even before—”
He spun around. “Before, what?”
I stood, wiping my sweaty hands on my breeches. “Before Tom Richards came.”
Mr. Lane remained unsurprised. “Your banker.”
“The Bradley account has gone under.” I watched his face fall, then recover with understanding of the whole of it.
I continued, “As it stands, we still made a fine purse. But my family’s lifestyle depended upon those earnings. I cannot spend my savings on land when I must now support my family with those funds. Let alone ...”
“Anna,” Mr. Lane supplied. “I see.”
Did he?
“You love her, then?” He would not meet my eye.
“With everything I am, sir. I have always admired her, but sometimes it is easier to argue with a person than try to see them clearly. She fits with my family like I never imagined anyone could. She is talented, accomplished, intelligent, wise, and kind. I will never love another the way I love Anna.”
He pointed an accusing finger. “You should have told me straightaway.”
“I had every intention. The very moment I had my finances back in order.”
“Do you think so little of me?” he asked, taking a step closer. “That I would not help you?”
“Please, Mr. Lane. Do not take offense by it. I have spent my whole life relying on other people to survive. I’d much prefer to do this on my own.”
“Respectable. But foolish.”
I held his stare. “I want to be the man she expects of me. I want to deserve her.”
“You will never deserve her,” he said blankly. “No matter how much money you make. You could shower her in jewels, buy her every convenience, and it will never be enough.”
I blanched. The man was cutting my legs from under me. “I want to try.”
He shook his head and rubbed his tense jaw with a hand. “I do not mean to be cross. I have traveled far this morning, and I fear I am not adequately prepared for this conversation. That is not to say that the idea of an arrangement between the two of you has not crossed my mind.” He started to laugh, then clasped his hands together. “I simply thought the chance had run its course.”
He sighed then, sinking back into his chair. “You have little to offer her, Everett. No title. No holdings. Little wealth.”
I nodded once, returning to my chair. Back to where we’d started. I knew his arguments all too well, for they ran the same circles in my head.
“And yet.” Mr. Lane leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his eyes locked with mine. “I can think of no better man to give her to.”
A rush of emotion washed over me. Gratitude so deep it ached. I swallowed hard, exerting every effort to vanquish the prickling in the corners of my eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Lane.”
“Tell me, then. As a friend. What can I do to help you?” He straightened his back and looked around as though he might find the answer hidden in the shadows of my drawing room. “A loan that you could pay back over time?”
I shook my head. “To be indebted to you further—”
He furrowed his brows. “A far cry better than to the bank.”
I could not argue. But again, my problems were not his to solve.
He leaned forward, serious again. “Sell Highcliffe House to fund your half of the Brighton investment. Move into my home in London with Anna. We shall find a reasonable apartment for your mother and sisters to rent nearby. I mean to ask Ms. Peale to be my wife, and I shall live with her in Bath until her mother leaves us. Having you watching over my home, protecting Anna—you would be doing me a favor.”
Oh, how I wanted to. What he offered was better than my family could dream of. Unequivocally better than I could give them. But it wasn’t, would never be, ours. “Highcliffe House belongs to my mother and sisters as much as it belongs to me. I could not sell it.”
Mr. Lane harumphed. “Egad, man. Are you making this difficult on purpose?”
I blew out a breath, half laughing, half moved to tears. “Anna told me that she felt like her suitors were encouraged by your wealth and connections. I want her to know that I could take care of her without your interference. Before yesterday, we could have built something wonderful. Now, I worry if you save me from this, she will never see me as capable.”
Mr. Lane leaned back. He nodded, contemplating my words. “You truly do not want my interference.”
“Your advice, I will accept gratefully. But your money ...” I shook my head. “I would respectfully decline.”
Mr. Lane sat back, drew in a long, steady breath. “So this is what my father spoke of. All those years ago. What it feels like to become an old man.”
I measured his words, still coming up short. “Sir?”
“You have been like a son to me, Everett. But now, you’ve outgrown me.”
I reared back, overcome with surprise and pride to be called anything close to a son to this man. “On the contrary,” I said, my voice hoarse with emotion. “I aim to be like you in every way. You are the closest thing I’ve ever had to a true father.”
Mr. Lane met my eyes, and an understanding seemed to pass between us. “If you were my son, I’d tell you you’re being a stupid fool for not accepting my help.”
I laughed, and nodded.
He stood, and I followed suit. “But I have seen you make responsible choices and change the course of your own life. I respect you. I respect your decision. And I am so proud of you, Everett. This loss will be but a minor bump in the road. I wish you prosperity in every form.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lane,” I breathed. A larger honor could not have been bestowed upon me. To be awarded Anna’s love, then Mr. Lane’s pride would be enough to see me through any hardship. I would spend the rest of my life aiming to become the man they saw in me.
Mr. Lane straightened his jacket and took a firm step back. “As Anna’s father, however, I must also say, that if you cause my daughter much more pain than she is currently experiencing, we shall have to part ways for good. And that would be a devastation beyond repair. Should you change your mind and desire a loan, advice, anything at all, you know where to find me.”
Another nod, and I followed him through the foyer and to the front door. He grasped my arm, and I his, in some semblance of an awkward embrace, then we offered bows in equal measure, and Roland showed him out.
Almost immediately, my mother and sisters ran out into the foyer, breathless.
“What did he say?” Ginny demanded.
“What shall we do?” Mother added.
And that, indeed, was the question.