26. One Earl, One Father
Chapter Twenty-Six
One Earl, One Father
Later that day, Kingston House
Anxiousness had Matthew arriving at Kingston House at least ten minutes earlier than the time he had proposed in his note to Cornelius Kingston.
After leaving Buxton House earlier that morning, he’d had his driver take him back to Wingfield House so he could change clothes and finish the breakfast he and Catherine had been enjoying before the topic of Lady Wingfield had been broached.
Knowing all the goldsmiths in St. James’s Street would be closed on a Sunday, he ventured into the mistress suite of Wingfield House in search of one of his late mother’s rings.
Although he expected the room to smell of disuse, he was surprised to discover the drapes had been opened and the scent of split wood hovering near the fireplace. No dust covered the surfaces of the dresser or the counterpane.
He peeked into the wardrobe, not surprised to find it empty but for a pair of dance slippers.
They had been his mother’s and looked as if they had never been worn.
One seemed to be missing a decorative clip, though.
He was about to close the door when he noticed the bottom of the wardrobe seemed higher on the inside than it did on the outside.
Bending down, he realized why. A drawer appeared to exist between the two wood panels, however there was no knob or pull on the front.
There was a small hole, though, as if there had at one time been a knob there.
None of his fingers were small enough to fit into the round hole, nor could he grip the top edge of the drawer front with his fingertips.
He glanced at the shoes again, noting the decorative clip covering the toe.
Lifting the shoe, he discovered the decoration wasn’t attached at all when it fell onto the floor.
Studying it, he realized the backside included a protrusion, one that appeared to be the same size as the hole in the drawer. He tried inserting it and felt a jolt of excitement when it seemed to click into place.
Tugging it forward caused the drawer to slide open.
His mother’s jewel box was the only thing in the drawer, its elaborate chinoiserie design embedded in brass.
Although there was a keyhole on the front, the box wasn’t locked.
Fearing he would find it empty—his father might have nicked the jewels to use when gambling—he lifted the lid and was pleasantly surprised to discover it was full.
He used a forefinger to push aside the contents in the hopes he might discover a ring.
Soon he was pulling out strands of gemstones and pearls and placing them in lines on the fake floor of the wardrobe.
He matched the pieces to discover an entire parure of sapphires and diamonds and another of pearls, each set including a necklace, bracelet, brooch, earbobs, and a ring.
Left in the bottom of the box were three additional rings—all gold bands set with gemstones—a hair comb encrusted with a line of emeralds, and a number of ten-pound banknotes.
Chuckling softly, he pulled out the notes and counted out five of them. “Bless you, Mother,” he whispered. He returned the others to the box before he began examining the rings.
He recognized two of them—audacious baubles meant to be worn to balls and soirées—while the third was far more delicate and understated.
A single blue sapphire was set in gold with three smaller diamonds on either side, those mounted in gold on the band.
If there had ever been any engraving inside the gold band, it was long worn away.
“Bless you, Mother,” he repeated on a sigh of relief.
Carefully returning the jewels to the box, he paused and studied the comb.
He thought of how the emeralds would look amongst Catherine’s red curls. Perhaps she would wear it the day they exchanged their vows—if he could convince her to marry him. He had every intention of doing so after he met with her father later that afternoon.
He placed the comb back into the jewel box and set the box back into the drawer.
After sliding it shut and straightening—he winced at the sounds his knees and back made as he did so—he noticed how the knob matched those on the outside of the wardrobe.
Even with the decorative pull in place, the doors of the wardrobe were able to close all the way.
“Clever mother,” he said softly.
Tucking the ring into his waistcoat pocket, Matthew took a quick look through the drawers of the dresser, happy to discover they were empty and ready for a new Lady Wingfield.
His Lady Wingfield.
For only a few minutes, the sun peeked through the clouds and bathed Westminster in winter sunshine. Pulled from his brief reverie by the rare display, Matthew stepped down from the Wingfield town coach and made his way to the front door of Kingston House.
The butler nodded and stepped aside, immediately seeing to his greatcoat and top hat. “I’ll let Mr. Kingston know you’ve arrived, my lord,” the servant stated before he disappeared.
Matthew took a few steps into the main hall, his gaze darting to the busts of Greek gods and goddesses mounted on caryatids and placed at even intervals between closed doors. Surreptitiously glancing up the stairs, he had the niggling feeling he was being watched, but he didn’t see anyone.
“Mr. Kingston will see you in his study,” the butler stated, waving to one of the doors that was now ajar.
Matthew nodded and stepped into the study, his attention immediately going to the huge bookshelf that took up the entire wall behind the publisher’s desk. The leather-bound volumes that filled the shelves were neatly arranged, their spines foiled in gold.
In front of the bookshelf, Cornelius Kingston immediately stood from his leather chair and bowed. “Lord Wingfield, it’s an honor to meet you. I am Cornelius Kingston.”
“Mr. Kingston, the honor is mine. Thank you for agreeing to see me on a Sunday,” Matthew stated.
“Please, have a seat,” his host offered.
Matthew glanced about before taking the proffered chair, noting only a single window above a leather-covered sofa behind him. The faint odors of pipe tobacco and ink hung in the air. As soon as Catherine’s father sat down, Matthew began speaking, unable to contain himself.
“Mr. Kingston, I wish to marry your daughter, Catherine. I, uh, I secured her agreement last evening. However, she later learned I possess a title and expressed her dismay.”
“Dismay I assure you she has since overcome, my lord,” Cornelius said.
Blinking, Matthew edged forward in his chair. “What’s this?”
Cornelius shrugged. “She might be an educated woman—I wasn’t about to raise an empty-headed daughter,” he claimed. “But during her sessions with tutors, it seems she developed an intense dislike of how our country is run.”
“She informed me of her opinion. One I share, actually,” Matthew said. “Along with a love of literature, or at least, novels.”
“Ah,” Cornelius said, settling back in his chair. “Is it true you wish to assist her in starting her own publishing company? One that would compete with my own?”
Straightening in his chair, Matthew considered how to respond. “I am not convinced she wishes to compete with you, sir, but rather offer books you are not inclined to publish through Kingston Publishing.”
Cornelius dipped his head. “I attempted to gain more insight into her thoughts when she informed me of her plans this morning,” he said, stroking his chin with a thumb and forefinger. “I admit to being surprised… nay, confounded by her ideas.”
“Since you have plans to marry and no doubt sire an heir, she was left with the impression she would not be inheriting your company,” Matthew explained.
“An incorrect presumption on her part,” Cornelius countered.
Matthew furrowed his brows. “You’re not getting married?”
“Oh, I’m getting married,” Cornelius assured him.
“And, yes, I may one day be a father again, but I’m not counting on it.
As for Catherine, I refuse to hire her for any of the positions at my company because she doesn’t need to work there to know what it is I do—she’s known her entire life what it is I do, and she’s perfectly capable of doing it after I’m dead. ”
Giving a start, Matthew cleared his throat. “Would you take exception if she should like to do what you do right now?”
“As a competitor? Absolutely,” Cornelius stated firmly.
“Not as a competitor,” Matthew countered. “As a… an affiliated company. A daughter company, so to speak.”
Cornelius blinked several times. “An affiliated company? With my name, you mean?”
Matthew shrugged. “Whatever name she wishes to call it.”
“She wouldn’t steal authors from me?”
“No, because the sorts of books she would like to publish are very different from those you publish, sir.”
Cornelius displayed a look of suspicion. “What sorts of books?”
Matthew dipped his head. “Novels, sir. Fictional tales offering their readers an escape from reality. Not like those from Minerva Press, though,” he explained, an involuntary shudder accompanying his comment. “No horror. No gothic novels.”
Scoffing, Cornelius considered his words. “I cannot believe my Catherine would wish to be involved in such frivolous books.”
“Believe it, Father.” Catherine’s voice sounded.
Matthew was up and out of his chair in a second, turning to discover Catherine standing on the threshold of the study.
“Catherine,” he said, bowing deeply before he rushed to take her hand to his lips.
He didn’t let go of her hand when he straightened, though, his gaze searching her face for evidence she had changed her mind about them.
Cornelius was slower to rise, although he finally did so. “Novels?” he said, barely hiding the disdain in his voice.
“Yes, Father. The idea surprised me at first, too, but Lord Wingfield has the right of it. There is an entire audience out there who wants nothing more than the opportunity to read a book for pleasure rather than for education or philosophy.” She glanced at Matthew.
“We could call it Wingfield and Kingston,” she added quietly.
“No,” he whispered. “Mayhap Kingston and Higby?” he ventured.
Catherine inhaled softly, her expression conveying surprise at hearing his suggestion.
Another scoff sounded from her father. “Well, you certainly wouldn’t be competing against any of my offerings,” he agreed. “So, if you’ll sign here, I’ll see to it you have Catherine’s dowry on the morrow. If you marry her by Christmas, I’ll add another hundred pounds.”
“What?” Catherine said in shock.
“Why?” Matthew asked.
“Because I wish to be married by the New Year,” Cornelius replied. “I’m tired of sneaking around to avoid gossip. When I host my next dinner party, I want to introduce Eliza as my wife.”
“Yes, sir,” Matthew said.
“Yes, Father,” Catherine agreed.
The two glanced at one another, and Matthew squeezed her hand. “Will you give me a moment to see to the contract?” he asked her. “We need to talk, and I have something for you.”
Catherine nodded. “I’ll have tea brought to the parlor.”
Matthew leaned towards her and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you,” he whispered.
Dipping her head, Catherine displayed a blush worthy of a new bride. “I love you, too.” She curtsied and took her leave of the study.
When he noticed Cornelius staring at him after her departure, Matthew shrugged. “I thank you for whatever it was you said to convince her to marry me, sir.”
Cornelius shook his head. “I didn’t say anything, actually,” he confessed. “She wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Oh?”
He shrugged. “She’s angry with me because I hired Mrs. Dove-Lyon to see to a suitable match for her.”
Matthew blinked. “You hired Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” he asked in surprise. For a moment, he was left wondering if the matchmaker’s initial letter to him was more targeted than he had been left to believe after speaking with Titan.
But how would Mrs. Dove-Lyon have known he was a voracious reader? A perfect match for a bluestocking determined to live her life as a spinster?
Holding up a staying hand, Cornelius said, “Best you act as if you didn’t know,” he said in a quiet voice.
Nodding his understanding, Matthew took the contract from the desk and began reading. A few minutes later, he borrowed a quill from Cornelius and signed both copies of the document. After he shook hands with his future father-in-law, he made his way up the stairs to the parlor.
Although he felt some relief—he would no longer be in debt after he paid his outstanding bills during the coming week—he wouldn’t be happy until he had Catherine’s assurance she would marry him.
Assurance she would not lose her desire to start her own company. For as he climbed the stairs, Matthew felt excitement at the prospect of helping her start her new venture.