Chapter 33
THEO
In the days after George left Blackfriars, Theo felt strangely numb. He went through the motions of rising, putting in a day’s work, eating dinner, and going to bed. He was busily occupied every day but he was miserable and, perhaps for the first time in his life, deeply lonely.
More than anything, it was the loneliness that confused him. How could he, with his independent ways, become lonely so quickly? How had George done this to him—made him lonely with his absence? Theo was not the sort of man who needed the constant company of others. It made no sense.
In all other ways, he continued as he had before. He was quieter, though, and Martin and Mrs. Ford could hardly fail to notice.
On the evening of George’s departure, Mrs. Ford had attempted to speak to him.
“Mr Asquith asked me to tell you why he was called away,” she’d said, nervously. “Since he only had time to dash off a quick note before he left and—”
Theo had cut her off. “It’s all right, Mrs. Ford,” he’d said, his tone reassuring. “I know.”
“Oh, good,” she’d said, her expression relieved.
And that was that. She hadn’t raised the subject again.
But in the days that followed, Theo had noticed her, and Martin too, eyeing him carefully at breakfast and dinner.
And perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. He wasn’t just quieter; he was thoroughly subdued.
One evening, after another painfully quiet dinner, Martin appeared in the doorway of the parlour where Theo brooded most nights. “May I speak with you?”
“What about?” The words were abrupt, rude even, but even as he asked the question, Theo got to his feet and crossed the room to take Martin’s arm, guiding him towards an armchair.
“Thank you,” Martin said, sighing gratefully as he sank into the chair. “It’s about what you told us earlier. About Mr. Asquith—his lordship I should say, I suppose.” He made a face, not much liking that moniker, which made Theo smile despite himself.
That afternoon, Theo had sat Martin and Mrs. Ford down and done as George had asked.
“Tell them that, should they ever need help, they should write first to me and I will see them right.”
So he had, explaining that George was the heir to the Duke of Avesbury, rather than the mere Mr. Asquith he had introduced himself as.
It had been obvious from Mrs. Ford’s reaction that she already knew this—had probably known for weeks given that letters had arrived for George, presumably using his courtesy title. But, ever discreet, she’d said nothing.
Even this afternoon, all she’d said was, “Will we need his help, Mr. Caldwell?”
Her voice had been as calm as always, but her hands were twisted anxiously in the folds of her apron, and Theo had felt ashamed.
He’d bumbled something about hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but that if it did, she mustn’t worry.
He hadn’t hesitated to give that assurance at least—he trusted George more than any other person in this world to keep his word.
Even then, though, he’d known that was never going to be the end of the conversation. And sure enough, here was Martin to get more details out of him.
“Shall we have a brandy?” Theo said. “Are you allowed?”
Martin’s gaze brightened. “A nip of brandy would be very nice. The doctor would probably say no, but he’s not here.”
Theo didn’t argue with him. He crossed to the sideboard and poured the remains of the brandy in the decanter into two glasses, a couple of generous measures each. He handed one to Martin, making sure to place it in his steadier left hand.
“So,” he said. “What did you want to talk about?”
Martin sipped his brandy, seeming to consider what to say.
At last he said, “Mrs. Ford and I had gained the impression over the last few weeks that you were minded to stay at Blackfriars, and keep things as they are. So, it was a bit of a shock when you told us Mr. Asquith felt the need to give us this… guarantee.” He gazed at Theo, his expression troubled.
“Are you intending to give Blackfriars up? Sell it off?”
Theo closed his eyes, assailed by a deep, visceral sense of shame. He’d let these people down. From the moment he’d learned of his uncle’s bequest, he’d only thought of this place in terms of its capital value. Until recently, he hadn’t even considered that he might owe something back.
“I don’t want to,” he said honestly. “But unfortunately, I don’t have any money. The bequest I received from my grandmother—” He broke off, conscious of the heat in his face as shame swamped him. “It’s gone. I spent every penny before I ever came here.”
Martin was quiet for a few moments. “I see.” He didn’t look especially surprised. For a while, they sat in silence. Then Martin said, “I have savings.”
Warily, Theo replied, “Yes, I remember.”
“Stephen wanted to know I’d be secure, if he passed before me.”
“I can understand that,” Theo said. “I’m sure it would have helped him to know that you’d have that security.”
Martin leaned forward and patted Theo’s knee.
“As I’ve said before, you are very like him.
” His eyes gleamed in the candlelight with the sheen of tears.
After a moment, he leaned back into his chair and added, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I’ve come to a decision. I want to make you a proposition.”
Theo frowned. “A proposition?”
“If you agree to stay on at Blackfriars,” Martin said, “I’ll buy my land from you. I know what it’s worth, and, with what I’d pay you, you’d have enough to deal with the roof of the main house and the labourers’ cottages—those are the most pressing repairs. Should pay wages too for a while.”
Theo stared at him, stunned. At last he said, “If you want your farm, I’ll sign it over to you tomorrow, no payment required. You know my uncle wanted you to have everything.”
Martin shook his head. “It’s not that I want to own the farm.
It’s that… I want to protect Blackfriars.
Or at least help you do that.” He paused.
“It’s not just money I’m offering you. I’m getting stronger every day.
Soon enough I’ll be back to work. If you stay, I can help you with managing the farm and estate and planning ahead for what needs to be done. ”
Theo stared at him, struck dumb by the generosity and unexpectedness of this offer. At last he managed to choke out, “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything yet,” Martin replied evenly, taking another sip of his brandy.
“I’m sure you’ll want to think it over. It will be a lot of work for you if you stay, make no mistake, and a great commitment.
It would be far easier for you to sell up, and I’ll understand if that’s what you choose to do.
But if you're willing to take this on, then… I’ll do everything in my power to help you. ”
“This is a very generous offer,” Theo whispered. “You could retire to some comfortable little cottage and live off your savings in ease. You can’t want to stay here instead, working all your days?”
Martin gave a lopsided smile—one side of his mouth was still less mobile than the other. “You know,” he said, “the first time we met, I was terribly rude to you. But despite that, in my most desperate moment, you brought me into your home and cared for me as kindly as if I was your own family.”
“This is your home,” Theo said, colouring, “It was yours before I ever came here. My uncle would have turned in his grave if I’d turned you away.”
“Yet that’s what many people would have done.”
“You give me too much credit,” Theo said guiltily, driven to honesty.
“The truth is, it was George who insisted you be brought here—it’s him you should thank.
” Theo broke off, his throat closing. “So if you’re making this offer because you think I’m some deserving paragon, you should think again.
I promise you, I’m not. It’s only George who ever made me want to be a better man. ”
Martin’s gaze was curious now, and for a while he was silent, but at last he said, gently, “You know, we are none of us islands. After Stephen died, I tried to shut myself away from everyone. I rejected my friends and neighbours. I only wanted to be alone with my grief. But when this calamity befell me—” He gestured at his own body.
“—I had no choice but to rely on others. At first it made me bitterly angry. But recently, I've come to realise that this too is an inevitable part of life. To be in need. And in my time of need, I was fortunate to be treated with more grace and generosity than I deserved.” He paused, his arresting blue gaze searching Theo’s face.
“You say Mr. Asquith makes you a better man, and I’m sure you’re right—because you're not an island any more than I am. If he helped you find strength, and purpose, then I owe him as much of a debt as I owe you.”
“More than any you owe me,” Theo said thickly.
Speaking of George had brought all of his grief and loneliness back to the forefront of his mind.
His throat was clogged and aching now, and it was a minute or more before he had himself sufficiently under control to speak again.
“Your offer is generous. It is a very good bargain for me—your capital and your knowledge and experience—but it is no bargain for you. You should think further before you make such a decision.”
Martin shook his head. “I have thought enough,” he said. “If you are willing, then I will shake your hand on it now.” And with that, he held out his hand. His arm shook, and his fingers trembled, but he held it out.
And what could Theo do but take his hand? Despite his misgivings, and as unworthy as he felt of Martin’s trust, to reject his offer would be graceless. So he set his hand in Martin’s and Martin’s uneven smile provoked his own mouth to curl, and made his heavy heart a little lighter.
This was the start of what could only be a long and arduous journey, but he had never been one to shy from difficult paths.
And tomorrow, he would be able to tell Morgan that he need not fear the loss of his farm.
With a few words, he could banish the worried look that he'd left Mrs. Ford with earlier today. And in time, he could restore Blackfriars to what it used to be. And damn well make sure that young Tom became a groom, as he’d always wanted.
Theo and Martin drank a toast to their bargain, then leaned back in their chairs, contemplating the fire contentedly.
At length, Martin said, “You must be missing him.”
No need to ask who Martin was referring to.
“I am,” Theo said.
“When do you think you will hear from him about his brother’s condition?”
The question completely discombobulated Theo. He blinked at Martin, uncomprehending. At last he said, faintly, “His brother?”
The older man frowned. “His brother who was injured? He told Mrs. Ford about it before he left. Did he not…?” He trailed off, his gaze wary now, worried perhaps that he had spoken out of turn.
Theo thought back to that day, a week ago now, when he’d come home to find George gone and had waved off Mrs. Ford when she’d tried to talk to him, because he’d been so sure he knew what had happened.
Except now, it seemed, he hadn’t known at all.
“Sometimes our loved ones need us, and what can we do but go when called upon?”
“I think,” Theo said slowly, “there has been a misunderstanding. What exactly did he say about his brother?”
Martin was frowning now. “According to Mrs. Ford, he wasn't sure himself what had happened. He’d had a letter from his father saying his brother had been injured and taken home, but the letter gave no details of the circumstances. Mrs. Ford said he was quite frantic about it, and departed in great haste. He’d only asked her to explain to you when he was running out the door. ”
Theo recalled then that there had been other letters for George that day. It was just that Fletch’s was the only one Theo had seen—and Theo had then proceeded to jump to far too many conclusions from the few lines he’d read.
“He will probably write soon enough with news,” Martin said carefully. “When he does, it would be good if you could tell Mrs. Ford how he fares—I know she is quite anxious to hear.”
“If I hear, I will, though I doubt he will write to me. We did not—” He paused here to swallow. “We did not part on the best of terms.”
Martin regarded him worriedly. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said. “You seemed very close. I assumed you were—” He paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Like Stephen and I. Not just temporary, I mean.”
The words made Theo’s throat thicken again, and his eyes sting. We were. We could have been. He dropped his head into his hands.
“I think,” he said, without looking up. “That I’ve been a very great fool. I should have—”
He broke off, because there were so many things he should have done.
So many times when he could have spoken, when he could have told George that this thing that had been growing between them meant more to him than just bed sport and friendship.
That his heart was engaged. That he wanted more.
That he wanted a life with George. A forever with George, with all the risks and fears that forever brought.
All the potential for pain and sorrow. And all the joy.
All the love.
Too late now, was his first thought. But then a small voice said, Is it? Is it really too late? Will you give up so easily? Without even telling him of your feelings?
“You should go to him,” Martin said with conviction. “Go now. The harvest’s in, and there’s nothing here that Morgan and I can’t manage for a while without you.”
Theo met Martin’s worried gaze. “If he has any sense, he’ll tell me to go to hell.”
Martin quirked a smile. “Try anyway. What’s the worst that could happen? You get a broken heart? You have one now, and if you don’t go at all, you will regret it all your life. I can promise you that.”