Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
Richard nodded, so relieved not to be informed of his father’s death that he didn’t mind being asked to wait to enter his own home. He realized, though, as Pickney walked away, that the butler knew.
The man’s reluctance to permit him entry.
The lack of his usual warmth. He knew, which meant the whole staff did, along with Lady Catherine’s.
As would every wedding guest, more likely than not.
Lady Catherine wouldn’t have been subtle with whatever missives she’d sent out to cancel the wedding.
Richard’s secret was no longer a secret from anyone.
Pickney returned, appearing much more convivial. “Lord Matlock wishes to see you. He’s in his chambers. May I take your coat, Colonel?”
“Yes, certainly.” Much reassured by the butler’s change in attitude, Richard handed over his outerwear. Further testing Pickney’s good graces, he said, “I know the way.”
“Certainly, Sir,” Pickney agreed and made no effort to escort him.
Relief easing the bands of pain that had tightened about his chest over the course of his journey, Richard trotted up the steps.
He found his father sitting up in bed, candles arrayed around the room and Abigail seated in a chair at his bedside.
She smiled when Richard entered, setting aside the book she held to cross the room and embrace him.
“I’m so happy you’re home,” she whispered. “Thomas has been beastly.”
“It’s my gut that put me in this bed, not my ears,” the Earl groused. “So don’t think I can’t hear you.”
Abigail released Richard, casting him an amused look before turning to their father. “I had no doubt that you would hear me,” she said and returned to her chair.
Richard went to his father’s bedside and dropped to his knees, taking up a spotted, thin-skinned hand. “Father. I was so worried. I came as soon as I heard.”
The Earl waved his other hand in dismissal. “No one should have worried you. I’ve a belly ache, nothing more.”
“You were very ill, Papa,” Abigail said crisply.
“But not so ill as to keep Richard from his wedding day. Me, perhaps, but not him. He’s the groom.” He cast Abigail a stern look. “You best not have summoned him home, gel. I told you to head to London without me, for the wedding.”
“There will be no wedding,” Richard said with a sigh.
“And Abigail didn’t call me home. I went to Lady Catherine’s to escort her and Anne to London, and she told me of your illness.
She also called off my engagement to Anne and banned me from her home.
Apparently, Thomas wrote her that I am not your son. ”
“You are my son,” the Earl said with vehemence. “Not of the body, but in every other sense.” He turned again to Abigail. “What’s this nonsense about Thomas writing my sister? How did he find out? Why was I not told?”
Abigail cast Richard a look of mild reprimand. “Remember, Doctor Smith said no undue agitation.”
“I’m more agitated by not knowing,” the Earl groused.
“I’m certain you are, and I planned to tell you, Papa, when you were a little stronger.
” She shook her head, expression revealing annoyance.
“Thomas decided you wouldn’t recover. I attempted to reason with him, but he went through your desk.
He said he sought your will. He found Richard’s adoption papers. ” She cast Richard a sympathetic look.
The Earl scowled. “Thomas has taken too much upon himself for far too long.”
Tentatively, Abigail added, “I believe he also wrote to Lady Catherine suggesting he marry Anne.”
Anger shot through Richard. Releasing his father’s hand, he surged to his feet. “I won’t let him touch her.”
“And I cannot imagine Aunt Catherine would agree,” Abigail murmured. “Not after the way Thomas treated Emily.”
Hands balled into fists at his sides, Richard shook his head, dredging up Lady Catherine’s words.
“I believe she does agree.” Even though Thomas had neglected his first wife, dead not even six months, not even seeming to care when she died birthing his third son.
And Emily had been a kind, gentle young woman of very comparable lineage and temperament to Anne, if with far less of a fortune.
The bedroom door burst open. “You,” Thomas cried, barging in. “You don’t belong here.”
Richard had never paid much heed to the fact that he stood several inches taller than his older brother, but as Thomas barreled up to him, the difference suited Richard quite well. “Thomas.”
The Viscount glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
“I presume I’m doing the same thing you are. I heard my father was ill and came.”
“I came because I am his son and I belong. You don’t belong here. You are not—”
“He is visiting his father, who is not actually dying,” the Earl cut in.
Richard and his brother both turned to the bed at their father’s words, breaking their tableau. Richard eased his fists open.
“No, I am visiting my father,” Thomas snarled. “He is a common cur whose father died thirty years ago.”
“And yet, Richard rushed to my bedside when he arrived,” the Earl said. “I’ve seen you only once in the past three days, when you peeked in and apparently decided I was dying.”
“The doctor and Abigail had things well in hand, Father,” Thomas said stiffly.
“I suppose I should be touched you arrived before I actually died,” the Earl continued sardonically. “You certainly couldn’t be bothered to attend your wife’s deathbed.”
“I didn’t get the news until too late,” Thomas said stiffly.
“You knew your wife was in labor but thought the London season was more important than being there for her and your child. I could forgive a one-time lapse of appropriate behavior to your wife, but you treated her badly for your entire marriage. In fact, you treat everyone badly.” The Earl turned to Abigail. “Get Lanyon here. Immediately.”
“Yes, Papa,” Abigail said and rang for a servant.
Thomas moved to their father’s bedside to loom over the Earl. “Your attorney? Why?”
The Earl folded his hands to rest atop his coverlet, serene. “I’m giving Richard the London House. You will remove your possessions, and only your possessions, promptly.”
Thomas snorted. “You can’t give him the London house. He’s a colonel with no lucrative prospects for marriage. He can’t afford to maintain it.”
“How thoughtful of you, Lord Wilmington.” Lord Matlock made his son’s title sound like an insult. “I will also turn over the Harrington property to him.”
Thomas gasped. “But that gives eight hundred pounds a year.”
“True.” The Earl’s gaze narrowed. “I will also change my will to divide the remaining unentailed properties between your sisters.”
Thomas swallowed. “You can’t,” he said weakly.
“I can and I will, but if, and I do mean if, you change your ways so that you show respect for your brother and sisters, I may change my will again to leave you something, how did you put it? Lucrative?”
“Change my ways?” Thomas sputtered. “But I am your heir. My mother was descended from a duke.” He waved a hand at Richard and Abigail. “My sisters can only claim worthy blood on your side and Richard is nothing.”
“I’d offer you even more of the properties if you could bring yourself to show actual affection for your siblings, but I suppose that is too much to hope for,” the Earl continued blandly when Thomas finished his protest.
“But, you cannot do this.”
The Earl sat up straighter in bed. His eyes narrowed, flashing with anger. “I am the Earl of Matlock. I can do as I wish.”
“Y-you rang?” a small, tentative voice said in the open doorway.
Abigail stood and crossed to the maid. “Susan, dear, send a footman to Mr. Lanyon. Tell him to apologize for the late hour, but that the Earl requires him.”
Thomas turned to Abigail. “I won’t forget this.”
“And yet, in view of the changes to Father’s will, I need not care what you manage to recollect.”
“I’ll bring him round,” Thomas growled. “You’d best hope he dies soon, before I persuade him to give everything to me.”
Abigail cast Thomas a pitying look. “He’s my father. I hope he shall live forever.”
“Why must I constantly remind the lot of you that my hearing is in no way compromised?” the Earl snapped.
Thomas cast a glare about the room, then stormed out.
“Aren’t you worried he’ll make your life terrible?” Richard said, concerned for his sister.
She shook her head. “He’ll attempt to be nice, so Papa will change his will. Aside from which, I will not live here with Thomas in charge.”
“Then aren’t you worried I’ll change my will back, based on his good behavior?” the Earl asked from his bed.
Abigail went around Richard to take their father’s hand.
She smiled down at him fondly. “I said he would try to be nice, which will do well enough, but I’m not worried.
You aren’t easily tricked, and Thomas won’t change.
Also, I have enough money to support myself, not in the style I live here, but comfortably. ”
“Matlock house will be open to you if you decide to visit London,” Richard said, almost absently.
He was thinking about what must be done next.
He must move his possessions from Lady Catherine’s London home, back to the Fitzwilliam townhouse, now his.
More importantly, he must find Anne and speak with her.
Richard cared for her, and believed she held similarly warm feelings for him.
Though he didn’t need to marry for security any longer, if Anne willed it, he still hoped they could marry.