Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Probably Veterans of Waterloo, he thought grimly. Soon they would be put out on to half pay, probably forced to beg for a living. Some grim times coming for England’s heroes.
A coach stood at the front of the house, the Somerton arms emblazoned on the door.
As he watched, Lady Somerton descended the front steps with a quick, firm step, a black feather in her bonnet waving jauntily, at odds with the deep mourning she affected.
She handed the bandbox she carried to her maid and allowed one of the footmen to help her into the coach.
Intriguing woman, Sebastian thought, and, as if he had called out to her, she glanced up.
She must have seen him at the window and, while her gaze held his for a moment, she did not in any other way acknowledge his presence before the coach drove away.
With her departure, he felt oddly cast adrift, as if she had been the one familiar person anchoring him to this strange new life; a life that was proving to be even stranger than he could have imagined, if there was truth in what the lawyer in the room behind him was saying.
The Somerton man of business, Bragge, and the lawyer had laid out a complete accounting of the Somerton inheritance.
What inheritance? Sebastian had thought with mounting anger as Bragge and the lawyer revealed the full extent of his cousin’s inept management.
It had all gone, expended on clothes and horses and who knew what else besides.
There were large, unexplained monthly payments, which Bragge suggested were probably gambling debts, and a foolish investment two years earlier in a gold mine in Guinea, based on a prospectus issued by a group calling themselves The Golden Adventurers Club.
It was this last bit of idiocy that had taken every last penny, including, it seemed, Isabel’s jointure.
Brantstone and the London house were mortgaged.
The lawyer’s nasal voice ceased, and, Bragge loudly cleared his throat, summoning Sebastian back to the business at hand. He turned around in time to see a quick, uncertain glance pass between the two men. They had every right to be nervous.
Sebastian regarded the man with cold eyes.
‘I blame myself,’ Bragge said. ‘His late lordship was not disposed to confide in me. I had no idea that he had...’ The man swallowed, wiping his upper lip with a large kerchief. ‘If I had known... In fairness, the damage to the estate should have been more readily ascertainable.’
Any man of business worth his pay should have known to the penny the extent of his master’s debts at any given time, regardless of other concerns.
Sebastian regarded the man without sympathy.
If he had been his quartermaster, Bragge would have been flogged.
As it was, he may well find himself looking for a new employer before this day was out.
‘Does Lady Somerton know that her jointure is gone?’ he enquired.
Bragge shook his head. ‘No, my lord.’
Sebastian thought of Isabel’s shining eyes as she spoke of her school. How long had she been nurturing this dream? How was he to tell her that all her dreams were dashed because her foolish husband had squandered her money? Her money.
‘How did he get his hands on the jointure?’ Sebastian demanded of the lawyer.
The man swallowed. ‘It seems he forged her ladyship’s signature on the documents.’
Reprehensible, Sebastian thought, if not criminal.
The more he learned of his cousin, the less he liked him. But Anthony was dead and, for some perverse reason, it had fallen to him to clean up the mess.
‘Recrimination is not going to restore the fortunes of this estate. I suggest that, for the moment, we do not burden Lady Somerton with this news,’ he said, suddenly desperately tired. The sheer effort of trying to digest the figures laid out before him had been exhausting.
Bragge looked at him. ‘She should be told, sir.’
‘In time,’ snapped Sebastian.
Sebastian dismissed the man, unflogged and with his employment still intact, and sat down at the desk. He turned back to the neat rows of figures, trying to find some reason for hope.
Somehow, the money needed to be found to reimburse Isabel for her lost income, but after a while, he shut the books and leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingers together as he concluded that the Somerton inheritance was a tainted privilege.
In some ways he was no better off than he would have been if he had remained a penniless officer of the line on half pay.
At least then, he only had his siblings and himself to worry about.
Now he had a household and an estate, all claiming pennies from a purse that looked decidedly the worse for wear.
Where had it all gone and how, in God’s name, was he expected to restore the family fortunes? If his cousin had walked into the room at that point, Sebastian may well have had to be constrained from breaking the man’s neck himself.