Chapter Seven
When Gabriel walked into the office which had forever been that of Thomas Clarke’s, he was struck by the familiar. Somehow he had expected it to feel altogether different, but no—the same bookshelves full of ledgers lined the room. The furniture had not been touched, the small sitting area looked as comfortable as ever, and the large mahogany desk stood as reassuringly steady and sturdy as it had always been.
Except there, behind the desk, sat a figure that, while as familiar as any of the inanimate objects in this room, was far from the stately gray-haired gentleman he was much more accustomed to seeing in the tall leather chair.
“Elizabeth,” he greeted her with a smile as she rose from the desk and rounded it, pointing to the small cluster of chairs that surrounded the circular table in the sitting area of the office. He reached out to take one of her hands to lift it to his lips, but she deftly skirted him and sat instead.
“Your grace,” she said, her lips lifting into her steady, practiced smile and he quirked an eyebrow at her formality. So this was how it was going to be, then, was it?
She folded her hands in her lap demurely, though Gabriel couldn’t help but notice the slight twitching of her pinkie finger. It was the one sign of her nervousness—one he didn’t think she even realized.
“Lovely to see you again,” he said, knowing it would spark her anger, cause her to emote something other than this coolness he so hated.
“You say that as though our meeting today is a coincidence,” she said, her violet eyes boring into him. “We both know very well, however, that is not the case.”
He laughed then, chuckling at the fact that if there was one woman he may never outwit in a war of words, it was this one.
“Very true, Elizabeth. However, most women would giggle and agree with me.”
She looked at him reproachfully. “You also know very well that I am not most women, and while I would not want to be rude, I also will not play the part of a fool.”
“I do not believe anyone has ever accused you of such—certainly not I.”
“What can I do for you today, your grace?”
“I do wish you would call me Gabriel.”
“I will not.”
He sighed. “Very well. First of all, I have come to congratulate you on your new position.”
“I have not won a prize. My grandfather died.”
Gabriel felt chastened. He had certainly not meant his words to convey such a flippancy for Thomas Clarke’s passing.
“Of course not,” he acknowledged. “But you must be pleased with this new responsibility.”
“Yes,” she said, though her pinkie finger began to twitch again. Ah, so she wasn’t as self-assured in this new role as one might think.
“Many would not believe it a proper position for a woman.”
Elizabeth bristled at his words.
“It is not a position, as you keep calling it. I am not an employee who is to be paid for my time. I am a partner—the senior partner—and as you well know, that is something else entirely.”
“That it is,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. “I will not argue with you on that point. However, I do not change my statement in that you must find some are not particularly… pleased with this turn of events.”
Elizabeth tilted her head down to look into her lap momentarily before returning her gaze to him, and he lost himself in her exquisite features, seeing the slightest of freckles dusting her nose. She had always thought them to be horrid—he had rather enjoyed them.
“To be honest, I have not had a chance to speak to most people who might think otherwise. I have spent most of my time so far here in this office, reviewing correspondence and the like. In due time I must review some of it with the appropriate staff, but first I will determine the roles within the company.”
“Ah, that is why you are going through the ledgers, are you?”
She glanced down at the table, seeing the book placed between them.
“Not exactly,” was all she said, and Gabriel could tell there was more to this story.
“Then what were you doing with this book?”
“I was not doing anything. Nor is it any of your concern,” she responded.
“And your parents, what do they think of this?”
Elizabeth emitted a wry laugh. “My mother is a proponent of it, so long as it provides her with wealth and prosperity. My father is not altogether pleased. He believes it will mean that I will spend the rest of my life in his home. I have assured him that is not the case.”
“Oh?” Gabriel sat up straighter at that. Had Elizabeth found a man? It would make sense. She was certainly long past the age to take a husband, and now that she was an heiress, well, there might be a few more men at her door, though he hoped she would be perceptive enough to see which ones were sincere. But why did the thought of her marrying someone else cause such a twinge deep within his gut? He had his chance, and in the end, it hadn’t been right. He still cared for her, but in the protective way of a man who was looking out for a woman alone.
“Yes,” she said matter of factly. “My grandfather also left me his home, though of course my grandmother still resides there. I spoke with her yesterday and she would be more than happy for me to actually take up residence there, with her.”
“You’re leaving the home of your parents?”
This was not an action he expected of Lady Elizabeth Moreland. Perhaps more had changed with her inheritance of the partnership than he had thought.
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “My parents are not in support of my involvement with the bank. They feel as though I should keep the partnership, but not actually take an active role. I do not think, however, this bank would be as successful as it is without my grandfather’s involvement in various activities. He taught me and taught me well. I just didn’t know that all his lessons were with a purpose.”
Her voice somewhat trailed off as she spoke and looked away from him out the window, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. He said nothing, allowing her the moment until she ever so slightly jumped, came back to herself, and turned toward him.
“My apologies.”
“It’s all right,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Is there any chance that one of your family members might contest the will?”
“Of course,” she said, shaking her head ever so slightly at him as though he were an idiot. “I expected it the moment the solicitor said the words. Henry has already begun proceedings and I have applied for probate through a proctor. Interrogations of witnesses are to begin next week.”
Well. Clarke had moved much more quickly and stealthily than Gabriel had given him credit for.
“It will be fine,” she said without any worry on her face. “My grandfather was a meticulous man.”
“Have you thought at all, perhaps, as to whether your parents, Clarke, or any of your other family members might be correct?”
“Pardon me?” Her gaze hardened as she stared at him.
“I just mean that, perhaps, it would be much easier for you were you to rely on the people who have sound knowledge of the bank—such as the clerks and the account managers—and allow them to meet with clients. Conceivably even some of the other partners would be interested in doing so. What could you do that no one else couldn’t? I don’t foresee any issues for a woman to attend meetings, so perhaps you could still take on that role, but otherwise, you surely have better things to do with your time, do you not?”
His smile was one that he knew would be slightly patronizing, as he had meant it to be. She simply stared at him.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You know very well that I would not have any better things to do with my time. What is it you would suggest?” she asked, her voice becoming ever so slightly more heated as she spoke. “Watercolors? Weaving? Pouring tea? Have you been sent here by my parents, by any chance?”
; “I do not follow orders from anyone,” he said, his words clipped. “And I certainly do not appreciate your tone.”
“My tone?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, do forgive me, your grace, if I have at all offended you. Heaven knows I would never endeavor to do so. It would be the height of rudeness.”
Her words were tinged with sarcasm, and he remembered how she had always used it to hide her true emotion.
“I only ask with your best interests in mind,” he said, ensuring his own voice remained steady and true. “Your grandfather may have allowed you to follow him around this office, I know that well enough. But how much did you actually retain, not knowing that you might someday require this information? I mean no offense, Elizabeth. I am well aware that you are as intelligent as a man—perhaps more so. However, you cannot argue with the fact that you did not receive the same type of education as most men do. Not because you didn’t want to, but you were not afforded the opportunity—’tis no fault of your own.”
“I had an excellent governess for most of my youth, and the rest of my education was the first-hand experience taught to me by my grandfather and what I learned myself through books available to me. You question how much I retained? All of it, your grace. I can review profit and loss statements. I can understand a bank ledger. I can assess salaries. I can review and decide on partnerships. I have no issue with any of that. And no, it would not be a better task for someone else. My grandfather knew what he was doing, and he chose me for a reason.”
“That all may be so,” he said, smiling ever so slightly at the vehemence in her voice. “But can you run a partners’ meeting?”
She kept her chin high in the air and didn’t lower her eyes, but she said nothing for a moment, and he was aware that he had finally found the nexus of her nerves.
“Of course I can.”
“Do you believe they will listen to a woman?”
“They will have no choice. I am the senior partner.”
“True,” he said with a slow nod. “But it will be difficult to gain any traction if none of them have any faith in you.”
“Is this why you came?” she challenged him now, “To question me and my competence?”
“Not at all,” he said. “I came because I wanted to discuss with you my accounts, as well as potential investments.”
“Should you not speak with your account manager regarding such matters?”
“I am a partner in the bank as well,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “I do not wish for my affairs to be discussed by just anyone. But since you are suggesting I speak with someone else, it makes me question your competence. Are you able to provide me the information and counsel I seek?”
“Of course,” she said smartly, reaching out a hand and snapping up the pile of papers he had placed on the table between them. “Just as I am able to run a simple partners’ meeting, no matter how I am challenged. And yes, Gabriel, I will be prepared.”
He had rattled her. She hadn’t even realized she had reverted to using his given name. Inwardly, he smiled, having achieved his objective. She was upset now, riled up, and he was glad of it. She needed that spunk, that winning attitude, if she were going to face down a table full of partners who would, despite their allegiance to Thomas Clarke, in all likelihood question her abilities and her competence. It was why he had come today, to see if she was ready, and she had been—almost. She had just needed that final push.
One thing that he couldn’t break? That frosty, cool exterior. It seemed the fiery, passionate side of her had disappeared. Elizabeth had no desire to be a woman to show emotion, to provide any type of warmth, any love. It was partially what had pushed him away from her all those years ago. She had been passionate, loving one night, and then the next day it was as though nothing had ever happened. He wanted to know fire, heat, desire, and as far as he could tell, Elizabeth Moreland had only felt them one night in her entire life. Whether she ever would again? That was certainly none of his affair.
“Very well,” was all he said. “Then let’s see to these accounts, shall we?”
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth called the partners’ meeting for later that week. In the meantime, she was kept busy as she was true to her word and moved her residence to her grandmother’s home. Her mother and father said nothing further about it, though she did feel the wrath of their disapproving stares.
“Mother, Father,” she said on her last dinner in their townhouse, an occasion for which her brother had joined them. “I do not want there to be any ill feeling between us. But the truth of the matter is that I do not know when or if I will ever marry, and as Father has noted, I cannot live in your home forever, waiting for a day that may never come. Grandpapa generously gifted me his home, and by moving there neither you nor Terrence has to worry about me.”
“I was never worried about you, Elizabeth,” Terrence said, winking at her. He had a similar look to her, though his face was slightly fuller where she knew her own was pinched. Perhaps it was just because she had always been far more uptight than he. She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed that all of the responsibility and practicality that Terrence lacked, Elizabeth felt she had to make it up for it. They had the same tall, lanky build, though Terrence’s smile came much easier.
“You’ll make some bloke happy one day, I’m sure,” he continued, ever the optimist.
“I am not so sure following her current decisions,” her father opinioned, staring at them both down his disapproving nose. “As for you Terrence, running all over London doing Lord only knows what with who, I do not even want to imagine. It is certainly not the way to win yourself a bride.”
“I’m young, Father!” Terrence said, practically laughing at Lord Moreland, which certainly didn’t help matters. “I’ll settle down in time, not to worry.”
“I believe that is enough of this conversation at the dinner table,” Elizabeth’s mother said. “You can save it for a gentleman’s discussion following dinner.”
“Oh, Mother, it’s not as though Elizabeth doesn’t—”
“It is not Elizabeth’s ears I am worried about,” she said as her glance slid over to her daughter, clearly saying that she didn’t think much of Elizabeth’s own morals anymore. “But my own.”
Terrence only snorted at that, while Elizabeth ignored it. One more meal, and then she would no longer have to worry about her parents’ disapproval—or, at least, the constant reminder of it, for she was sure their disapproval would follow her no matter where she resided.
Besides, she didn’t have time to worry about it any longer. Tomorrow was her first partners’ meeting, and more than anything, she had to be well prepared for it.
She tried not to think of the fact that Gabriel might be there. Why it mattered, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was because she knew he was not a man she could outwit. It bothered her that he would think her not capable to take on the position of senior partner. If he, a man who knew her well and was aware of her abilities, did not believe in her, then who would?
Her grandfather had, she reminded herself. Now, she just needed to show the rest of them what he had seen in her. If only she knew exactly what that had been. Her grandfather had certainly recognized her interest in the bank, which was why she had thought he had always been so ready to reward that interest with all of the instruction he had provided. Elizabeth reflected on all the tests he had put before her, all of the times he had asked for her opinion on a situation. She had enjoyed it, had appreciated the opportunity to feel useful, and for her opinions to be respected by a man such as him. But she had also always thought it was for her own benefit. Never had it crossed her mind that Thomas might be preparing her to step into the role—why he had never said a word of it to her, she would likely never know.
*
As Gabriel dressed that morning, he actually found himself looking forward to an event on his schedule for the first time in many days. In fact, the last time he had anticipated anything so much, it had been his m
eeting with Elizabeth. Why that was, he had no idea. Perhaps the fact that, unlike most aspects of his life, it provided a situation he could entirely control—which was something that had become rather thrilling, and how sad was that?
“What do you think, Baxter?” he asked, turning from one side to the other in front of the floor-length mirror. Gabriel had always been quite aware that one was always taken much more seriously if he looked the part expected of him.
“You look quite exceptional, your grace, very much so,” his valet said as he tied Gabriel’s cravat, ensuring that it was immaculate. Gabriel eyed himself critically, wondering for a moment if the striped pattern on his waistcoat was too slimming, but then decided that it was just fine and he was being ridiculous. It was a bloody bank meeting, not a ball with the Prince Regent in attendance.
He arrived at the bank with some time to spare, as he always did, pleased that most recognized him when he entered.
“Good day, your grace,” Anderson said, nodding his head as Gabriel walked by. Ah, Anderson. He was as much a part of this bank as the brick walls himself. Gabriel walked into the front foyer, gazing up at the stone vaulted ceiling above him, upon which stood the sculpted guardians of the bank who looked down from their dome at all below them.
Clerks lined the long counters throughout the room, some assisting their clients while others scribbled in ledger books, awaiting the next arrival. He passed them all, looking about him with new eyes at the Cararra marble walls around him, which were inlaid with engravings of the Clarke family crest as well as the alchemical symbol for gold, a nod to the origins of the bank. All of this, Thomas Clarke had built. And all of it was now under Elizabeth’s watchful eye.
Gabriel took the large marble stairs that spiraled up and around the corner as he sought out the room where they would meet. It was large enough to fit a table for eight partners and, at times, the senior manager or a clerk, but it was also rather intimate, with dark shelves lining the room and portraits of Clarke descendants hanging on free space.
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