Chapter One #2
‘You’ll enjoy this type of exertion. Take yourself off to the Black Sheep, you lazy oaf, and start a conversation in the taproom. Find out exactly what the situation is on the Dalton estate. You know as well as I do that the gossip will be on the money.’
Ezra brightened considerably. ‘I live to serve, big brother.’
‘That’s the spirit!’
Farrah Dalton had convinced herself that her family’s fortunes would improve once they left the cloying atmosphere and expense of a London season behind them and surprised their father by returning early to join him at their country seat.
Her mother had taken some persuading to leave the ton in March, where her sister Sophia was enjoying considerable attention, but Farrah’s will had eventually prevailed.
She had pointed out in no uncertain terms that the cost of remaining in London, where one was expected to return invitations and do so in style, was beyond her family’s rapidly dwindling means.
Sophia had shed tears and thrown tantrums. She could be heard all over the house as she accused Farrah of curtailing her pleasure because she was jealous of her success.
‘Just because you did not secure a husband during your season, you seem determined to prevent me from making a brilliant match!’ she cried, her complaint as always accompanied by a stamp of her delicate foot.
Sophia was unquestionably the beauty of the family ? all blonde curls, innocent wide blue eyes and pretty manners.
Farrah, in contrast, possessed hair that was somewhere between brown and russet and grey eyes that never failed to fall upon some absurdity in the ton that made the entire rigmarole seem just about bearable.
Sophia had attracted a great deal of attention from gentlemen in search of a bride, but their interest would, Farrah knew, fail to stand the test of time when they realised that her dowry was negligible.
Sophia and their mama seemed to think that Sophia’s beauty alone would be sufficient to overcome monetary obstacles.
Farrah knew differently.
She had long been aware of an undeniable truth that her mother had managed to consistently deny.
The Dalton coffers were not only empty, but the combination of Papa’s irresponsibility and Mama’s extravagance had landed them in considerable debt.
She had attempted to broach the subject with her father on several occasions, but he had been scandalised by her interest in a subject that he decreed to be entirely unsuitable for a lady and refused to discuss the matter with her.
When he had quit London with the intention of managing his estate in person, Farrah had hoped rather than believed that he would somehow put matters right.
Born into a position of privilege, Papa had over the years perfected the air of a man who expected the world to conform to his bidding.
Farrah knew from her vague recollections of her aloof, entitled paternal grandfather whom he had inherited that attitude from.
She also knew that he was grasping at straws and needed to face up to his responsibilities urgently, while there was still time to turn matters around.
The moment their carriage made its way up the weed-strewn driveway leading to Dalton House, with Sophia still protesting vehemently, Farrah breathed a heavy sigh, aware that her father had yet again failed to confront the reality of the situation.
She alighted from the carriage, looked up at the neglected facade of the old building and visibly quailed.
‘Ye gods!’ she had muttered, narrowly avoiding using stronger language learned from eavesdropping on her father’s private conversations with various individuals.
‘Where is everyone?’ Mama had asked as she followed Farrah from the carriage, appearing oblivious to the obvious signs of dereliction surrounding her. ‘Where is your papa? I wrote advising him that we intended to join him earlier than planned ?’
‘Much earlier!’ Sophia pointed out, wrinkling her nose.
Farrah realised at that point that their father would not appear to greet them, and that in all likelihood he hadn’t set foot over the threshold of Dalton House these past three months.
A feeling of dread gripped her as she was compelled to accept that disturbing truth.
More to the point, if he was not here where on earth had he got to?
Mama tutted as she marched towards the front door. It opened just before she could wield the knocker.
‘Your ladyship.’ Mrs Simpson, the housekeeper, appeared surprised to see them and was clearly not prepared for their arrival.
‘Where is his lordship?’ Mama demanded to know.
‘His lordship?’ Mrs Simpson blinked. ‘I don’t have the first idea.’
Mama tutted as she pushed past Mrs Simpson. ‘Really, this is too much. I wrote specifically to inform him that we would be here today.’
Farrah shared a look with Mrs Simpson, who remained totally bewildered.
‘Papa is not here, Mama,’ she said softly. ‘And has not been all this time.’ Farrah glanced around her. ‘Is that not so, Mrs Simpson?’
‘The master has not been down, Lady Farrah.’
‘Not down?’ Mama frowned at their servant. ‘Don’t talk such nonsense! Of course he has been here. Where else would he go?’
‘Can we go back to London now?’ Sophia asked hopefully.
‘Be quiet, Sophia, and think of someone other than yourself for a change,’ Farrah snapped.
Farrah’s crisp tone reduced Sophia to a rare and sullen silence.
Mrs Simpson and the one remaining housemaid, accompanied by a solitary footman, set about hastily opening the house up. Mama sat in a chair, clutching her forehead in her hand and wailing.
‘What is to become of us?’ was her oft-repeated lament.
By evening, even Farrah’s mama was obliged to concede that the situation was odd.
Fortunately, she had not been privy to Farrah’s private conversation with Mrs Simpson and so was not aware that the few loyal servants that remained had not been paid for six months.
At least Farrah was able to right that situation out of her own funds and supply sufficient blunt for the most urgent repairs to be put in hand.
Her priority, though, was to find her father and demand explanations.
There was something at play here that none of them knew anything about.
Papa had myriad faults but was exceedingly aware of his social position and would not have neglected his estate to the point where the deterioration was visible to all, thereby causing speculation and denigrating his noble name.
Finding Papa and demanding said explanation would be a difficult ambition to achieve, though, she conceded with a weary sigh, since she had absolutely no idea where to start looking.
She suspected too that his debts were pressing and that more tradesmen would make their way to the house when they realised the family was in residence.
All well and good. Farrah felt excessively sorry for them but probably didn’t have sufficient funds to pay them all.
What to do?
Mama hit upon a possible solution after calling on her neighbour and lifelong friend, the Dowager Duchess of Alton.
‘Agnes is absolutely sure that we have got it all wrong and that your papa had a very good reason for changing his plans,’ she told her daughters upon her return, looking visibly brighter.
‘In any event, she is absolutely sure that the duke will be able to find out where he is and bring him home to us.’
Sophia, who had continued to sulk and complain, suddenly took an avid interest in the conversation.
‘Then we should not lose time in calling upon his assistance,’ she said, smiling angelically for the first time since leaving London.
‘Has the duke seen papa these past few months?’ Farrah asked.
‘How clever you are to hit upon that solution, my love.’ Mama focused her entire attention upon Sophia, ignoring Farrah’s question.
‘And we shall do so, tomorrow afternoon. I am sure the duke will be able to help us, since he is a very capable gentleman.’ Mama’s eyes sparkled.
‘And devilish handsome, too. He will not want to see you overset, I am absolutely sure of it, so try hard not to frown. It will create wrinkles.’
Farrah didn’t share her mother’s faith in the duke’s abilities, but since she was unable to think of an alternative solution and since the situation was exceedingly pressing, she agreed to be a party to the visit.