Chapter 1 #2
Rose’s breath caught in a gasp, her eyes flaring wide as Mr. Harrow looked back at her, evidently surprised at her astonishment.
“Your father did not speak of these matters, I presume?”
She could not respond, could only stare at the gentleman in utter shock. Financial difficulties? There had been no mention of that, nor had there been any evidence of financial concerns within the house. Mr. Harrow’s expression softened slightly.
“I see that he did not,” he said, sighing and shaking his head. “I am afraid that I am going to add to your burdens, Lady Rose, though it is not intentional.”
Rose swallowed once, twice and then closed her eyes to draw in a deep breath. “Are you certain that there is no misunderstanding? Are you certain that it is my father?”
“No, I am afraid not.”
Running one hand over her face, Rose took in a shuddering breath. “He was not a secretive man.”
“And yet he was clearly protective.” Mr. Harrow’s voice was quiet but held a steady conviction. “He wanted to look after you and, I presume, thought to keep these concerns away from you so they would not trouble you.”
That, despite her shock and dismay, made her smile. “Yes, he was a very caring father,” she murmured, looking down at her hands. “He must have chosen to shield me.”
Mr. Harrow nodded. “In the hopes that these difficulties would resolve themselves.”
Her stomach squeezed tight. “But they did not.”
With a shake of his head, Mr. Harrow picked up one of the papers. “No, they did not,” he said softly. “The debts exist and they are significant. Allow me to go through them, if I might.”
With a jerky nod, Rose leaned her head back and closed her eyes, doing her utmost to keep her composure and not allow another rush of tears to pour down her cheeks.
In horrified silence, she heard of creditors, demands for payment, assets to be seized, and investments liquified.
She did not understand all that was said, did not recognize all the words that the solicitor said, but the truth remained steadily clear.
“The title will go to the Baronet Seth Beaumont, who I believe is a distant blood relative,” the man finished.
“There are a few particulars that must be completed but have no doubt, he will take the title. This house, as I know you must understand, will belong to him and…” Hesitating, he looked down at the table and picked up another paper.
“Given your present circumstances, Miss Bennet, I think you must find another situation. The baronet has made clear to me that he did not intend to take on a ward as well as the title.”
Rose’s eyes burned with unshed tears as she opened her eyes and looked back at Mr. Harrow.
He had an apologetic look on his face but none that he said was his responsibility or his fault.
Rose knew that. “I—I barely know the baronet,” she said, her throat rasping with emotion.
“We have been introduced once.” When Mr. Harrow said nothing, she looked back at him steadily. “What is to become of me?”
Mr. Harrow hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I am afraid I cannot tell you what you are to do, Lady Rose. You do have a very small endowment but, to be blunt, it is not enough to secure your future.”
“Then what am I to do?” she asked, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks again. “Where am I to go?”
The man looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Rose could not contain herself any longer.
Tears flowed, her sobs breaking from her lips without restraint.
And all Mr. Harrow could do was to push a document toward her, murmuring that all he required was her signature so that then, he might take his leave.
The hand that took the quill shook so badly, she could barely hold it.
She did not even know the document she signed but, wanting nothing more than for Mr. Harrow to take his leave and permit her to return to solitude, she did her best to sign her name.
It was barely legible but it sufficed, given the haste with which Mr. Harrow took the quill and the document from her.
Gathering the rest of his papers, he returned them to his bag and then inclined his head.
“I am truly sorry, Lady Rose. I wish—” Hesitating, he ran one hand over his chin, then looked away as she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. “I wish that I could offer you more help.”
Rose could only nod, watching as he walked to the door and stepped out—only for Margaret to step in. Seeing Rose, she rushed forward immediately, hunkering down and grasping Rose’s hand so she might look up into her face. “My lady?”
“It is gone, Margaret.” The admission, from her own lips, shattered her all over again as she wept openly.
Margaret stayed exactly where she was, looking up earnestly into Rose’s face, her hand tightening on hers.
“It is all gone.” Through broken sobs, she told Margaret all that Mr. Harrow had revealed, including that her very small endowment would give her no security whatsoever.
“Oh, my dear girl.” Margaret squeezed her hand. “I am terribly sorry.”
“I have nothing left,” Rose said, struggling to push even the smallest amount of strength into her voice. “Nothing at all.”
The maid remained silent for some moments, until Rose had regained herself somewhat.
“You have your education, my lady,” she said gently. “That is not gone from you.”
Rose blinked, her tears finally abating. “My education?”
“Yes, of course.” Margaret smiled reassuringly. “You play the pianoforte exceptionally well. You are fluent in French and Italian, have knowledge of mathematics, and are exceedingly well read. That is of significance.”
“In what way?” Rose did not understand what her maid meant, searching her face for some sort of explanation. “What good is any of that to me now?”
Margaret’s smile flattened. “It will require great courage, my dear, but I think you could do it well. It would secure your future.”
“I do not understand!” Rose threw up her hands, wrenching them from Margaret’s. “What do you mean?”
Her maid drew in a deep breath. “Employment, Lady Rose. A governess.”
The suggestion shocked Rose into a deep and lingering silence. Employment was not something she had even considered. Her maid said nothing, allowing the words to settle, to pierce Rose’s mind and linger there.
She inhaled sharply, then shook her head. “I could not,” she whispered, tears beginning to build behind her eyes. “I do not think I would have the strength.”
“You have greater courage than you realize,” Margaret said, her voice a soft whisper. “You must think of the future, a different future from the one you had imagined.”
Rose closed her eyes, squeezing them shut. “I cannot even think of what such a thing might require of me.”
“And there is no immediate urgency,” Margaret replied quickly, “for you need not decide such a thing today. All the same, there is something there for you to consider. Something that offers you security and, might I say, hope. Hope that your life will not fade to dust but will instead offer you purpose and, in time, happiness.”
Rising to her feet, Rose took in a deep breath and dropped her shoulders.
“I will think on it, Margaret,” she assured her, even though inwardly she recoiled from the idea.
“I should like to ride now, I think.” Her confusion, doubt, upset and shock were like a heavy ball rolling around in her core and the thought of being out in the wind and the weather, thinking on nothing but the path ahead, gave a comfort nothing else could. “Have Thomas saddle Apollo at once.”
Margaret, who had risen to her full height, nodded although the concern in her eyes remained. “Very well, my lady,” she said, reaching out to squeeze Rose’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “May it bring you the comfort you seek.”
Rose managed a brief smile but did not say anything more, watching Margaret quit the room. This house, her horse, the land she had loved all of her life were soon to be given up. Even Margaret might soon be taken from her.
But she could not let that consume her.
Lifting her chin, Rose closed her eyes and drew in air, doing her utmost to steady herself. Whatever awaited her in these next few days, she would have no choice but to face it, to accept change whether she wished it or not.
She could only pray she had the strength.