Chapter Twenty-One #2
In the end good sense prevailed, as she realized the captain’s charms were not worth the gamble of losing her family’s good opinion, to say nothing of her reputation and all her fortune into the bargain.
For even love-addled Elizabeth couldn’t help seeing her suitor for what he was.
To be attempting an elopement (let alone two of them, as it transpires!), the poor fool must have been in truly dire straits.
Had he got his hands on my sister’s money, most of it would have surely gone straight to his creditors, with any remainder soon to follow.
My dear Elizabeth would have been destitute.
But—thank heaven!—that shan’t come to pass. Elizabeth and her future are safe. From the very brink of ruin, she is now restored to every prospect of happiness and—prepare yourself for a thunderbolt—(4) a fortune in the offing!
Do you see? The fortune Elizabeth has obtained is her own, rescued from the clutches of a swindler!
Is that not tied with a bow?
I do feel for Lady Caroline, however. Though her father led a party out in pursuit of the fugitives, they managed to evade capture and are in all probability married by now.
One can only hope that her fortune—which, as the heiress to all her father’s unentailed property, is sure to be vast—combined with her domineering streak, will be enough to either fund or quash her husband’s follies.
If anyone could take him on, I’m convinced it is Caroline.
Of the fifth and final prophecy—a blessed life for my cousin Mr. Chase—I’ll admit I stood in doubt. Especially given what happened on the last morning of the Christmas party.
We were all at breakfast, after which the guests were to depart, when Mr. Evans stormed into the dining parlor.
In a manner permitting no argument, he bid Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel Chase to come with him.
Go they did, and that was the last we saw of them.
The pair left Greystone without so much as a farewell.
Only after the remaining houseguests took their leave did we learn more.
Noah had the tale from his valet and conveyed it to Elizabeth, Jonathan, and me as we were gathered to make our own farewells.
It seems while the footmen transported our Honorable cousins’ baggage downstairs, one of Mrs. Chase’s cases sprung open—and what do you think fell out?
Why, nothing but a cache of our best silver! Can you imagine?
That would have made an end of the matter—and all association with the Lakefield branch of the family—if not for servants’ gossip. At least, I assume it’s the castle servants who circulated the news, since my siblings and husband all vow they spoke to no one.
At any rate, word of the thwarted crime seems to have spread like wildfire, for when Noah arrived here yesterday, he brought with him a letter from our very embarrassed cousin, the viscount.
Dispensing quickly with felicitations on the erstwhile Lady Claire’s brilliant match, his lordship dwelt far longer on apologies for his son and daughter-in-law’s disgrace.
He laments this younger son has always sought his fortune through schemes and speculations, rather than a profession, and implores us not to paint the whole family with the scoundrel’s brush.
For all his other children, their father begs leave to inform us, are infinitely Nathaniel’s superiors.
Lastly, below the signature, the viscount had added a hopeful postscript: due to the very public shame of this latest indiscretion, his wayward son had at last been prevailed on to take orders.
The proud father now sat in happy expectation of seeing Nathaniel installed as vicar of a respectable country church by midsummer.
(5) A life of blessedness, indeed!
For pity’s sake, do I hear Jonathan calling me again? Does the man never tire?
Half past three. — Hmmph. It wasn’t Jonathan after all, but only Kippers mewing at the door. After letting him in I peeped into the bedroom—and found Jonathan fast asleep!
Though I ought to leave him be, he looks so adorably tousled (the hair!) that I can’t resist curling up next to him until the others return. I shan’t wake him, of course—though he is a light sleeper. Oh, piffle. Well, I’ll do my best, but should some accidental jostling occur…
I’m sure I can make it up to him somehow.
Before I bid you farewell, my treasured friend (who I mean to revisit often, by frequent perusals of your joy-filled pages), I have just one more bit of news to share.
This morning brought yet another caller to our door: the Dowager Duchess of Rathborne.
No one else was yet up and about, so I received her alone in the East Drawing Room.
Seated beneath the marvelous painting Jonathan gave me, she paid her respects to the bride, inquired after her son, and accepted a dish of tea.
I in turn asked after Rousseau, who is evidently laid up with a cold, and extended my sympathies.
After exactly a quarter of an hour—the proper length for an introductory visit—she took her leave.
All in all, a promising start.
Euphorically ever after,
Claire