9. Jake #3
“Maybe I should add it to my resumé then.” We leave Empire behind and it’s darker than dark.
I know there are just fields on either side of the road, but I’d forgotten how tough it is to drive in rain at night in the country.
There are no streetlights and little other traffic.
There are just Mackenzie’s high beams and the occasional light of a farmhouse.
It’s black as Hades out there, shiny and wet.
I know there are ditches on either side of the road, a line of hydro poles on one side and the wires above, but I can’t see a damn thing.
Mackenzie seems to know the road well, but I keep my mouth shut and let her concentrate.
We ride in silence for a couple of minutes, but I can’t leave it alone. “But Wickham? Really? I’m much better with money than Wickham was.”
“Tell me you don’t have a creepy thing for young heiresses.”
“I prefer my heiresses to be old enough to know what they want.”
“Then you do prefer heiresses?”
“Not particularly. I should say I prefer women who are old enough to know what they want. Their financial situations are not a big consideration.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be Wickham. How about Mr. Collins?”
I laugh so hard that she laughs too. “I can’t remember the last time I was in church, and really, I would tell anyone remotely like Lady Catherine de Bough what to do with her condescension.”
“I’ll guess you don’t even have a copy of Fordyce’s Sermons.”
“Lucky for you, Isobelle, as you might have stumbled across it inadvertently, seeking the diversion of a light read at my abode, and discovered as a result that young ladies of good breeding never introduce themselves to young bachelors, much less leave a dance attended by people of good family in the sole companionship of…”
“A dashing rake of no good repute, who is also a scoundrel of dubious intentions.”
“My intentions were not dubious and they suited you perfectly at the time.”
“They did. But you’re right. You can’t possibly be Mr. Collins. Mr. Wickham it will have to be.”
“But there are other choices. What about Mr. Knightley?”
She makes a face. “The old man secretly ogling a young heiress? Yuck.”
“He wasn’t that old.”
“Only because of the casting in the movie. If you read the book, you’d know he was sixteen years older than Emma, and she was only twenty-one, which is repulsive.”
“Fair. That is repulsive.” I sigh. “Mr. Wickham it will have to be. Maybe regimentals would be a good look for me.”
“Just don’t feel obliged to start gambling tonight.”
“With more things than heads and furniture broken?” I try to look angelic. “Not me.”
The rain is pouring down, the night is black as pitch, and I’m enjoying myself. Mackenzie is a good driver and I’m glad to be a passenger. It wouldn’t be a relaxing drive, given that I don’t know the road.
“Thank you again for finding that title,” she says finally.
“I promised I’d look for it.”
“You didn’t say you planned to give it to us.”
I would have given anything for this night, screw my fiduciary duty – actually, I would have just paid for the property myself and not told anyone, except Richard Bradshaw. He might believe I was trying to make things right.
“Well, thanks for insisting on paying for it.”
“I couldn’t have done otherwise, not after you told me about your dad’s financial situation. Any discoveries today?”
I shake my head. “Let’s not talk about it tonight.”
“That’s fair.”
I clear my throat. “Sorry I fell asleep last night.”
She laughs again. “So am I. I had…hopes.”
Yes.
“But yesterday must have been quite a day,” Mackenzie continues.
“Thanks for the concession.”
“Has it been awful today?”
“Let’s just say that lunch with you and your grandfather was the highlight.”
“Mmm. Even with endless stories about grapes and terroir.”
“Particularly so. I like stories about grapes and terroir. They usually end with wine.”
“He would have started a tasting party that went the whole afternoon if you hadn’t insisted on going back…to the Cavendish house.”
“Had to get my work done so I could go out for dinner tonight.” She nods and I watch her. “Thanks for not calling it home.”
“It never was for you, was it?”
“No.”
“But it apparently has every luxury.”
“It is the ugliest house on the planet.”
She laughs again, clearly skeptical. I halfway want to take her on a tour to prove I’m right, but I let it go. I’ll leave tomorrow. She’ll never see Casa Cavendish in all its splendor, unless it’s listed for sale and she attends the open house.
I frown at the road, my mood soured for no apparent reason.
“Have you made any progress?” Mackenzie asks finally.
“I think Madison hates me even more than she did yesterday. Does that count?”
“I’m going to guess that you did something to make that happen.”
“Well, I did confiscate everyone’s credit cards. Not a popular move. The great thing is that your payment for the land will square us up for this month at least.”
She is silent for a beat. “It’s that bad?”
“I’d say it’s worse.”
She drives in silence for a few minutes, considering that. “What are you going to do?”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it.”
“I’m curious. Indulge me until we get there. Then we’ll change the subject.”
“Promise?”
“Pinkie swear.”
That makes me smile. “Well, I’ll keep going through his papers. Itemize assets. Tabulate debts. Make a liquidation plan. I’ll have to start selling things. There’s not much else to be done.”
“Your dad did own a lot of property.”