by Ella Edon
“A big word for a farmer,” Simpson sneered.
That was ridiculous. He couldn’t do that, surely? David’s arithmetic wasn’t that good when trying to do it on the spot, but he knew the interest on that was not even on the scale. Even if he was late on the payment and the interest was five percent, it wouldn’t have gotten so high. Not unless he didn’t pay the amount loaned for a couple of years.
“You’ll get the money I borrowed from you at the arranged date, Simpson,” David growled. “Not before. And certainly with no interest, seeing as I’m not late.”
He turned away, hoping that this would be the end of the conversation, but then Simpson grabbed his arm.
“I believe you’re going to have to rethink what you’ve just said, Mr. Harrison,” he said quietly. “Remember what happens when money isn’t paid in full or not at all? I’m sure your brother has told you about all the...antics that he’s had involving the two of us. Seeing as sailors are at sea all the time, you’d think he would be a bit more...prompt in paying up.”
David did know. Even when he was being shot at by the French and Spanish on the Atlantic Ocean, Peter Harrison still managed to find time to get into fights in back alleys. David didn’t want to count how many times Peter had come back beaten up.
He shook Simpson off. “You do realize that beating me up is going to have my father coming after you.” He added, “He won’t tolerate your behaviour.”
Simpson chuckled. It wasn’t a very nice sound.
“Threatening me with your father, are you? You were concerned about him knowing you had nothing in your account when you came to me. You didn’t want him to find out that you had been a little careless with the allowance he had given you specifically for the estate.” His eyes seemed to glow in the dark. “Do you really want him to know there’s nothing left?”
He did have a point. Ian would be furious. But he wouldn’t turn his back on David, would he? David squared his shoulders.“He’ll stand by me,” he declared.
“Will he?” Simpson purred. “Or will he disown you for good once he finds out what you needed the money for?”
“Don’t make it sound salacious. You know what I needed the money for.” David shook his hand off and stepped back. “Go away, Simpson. No interest, load paid in full on the last day of October. And don’t even think about sending people after me.”
“I don’t need to.” Simpson dusted down his waistcoat. “I do that myself.”
David looked him over. He was easily a head taller than Simpson, and bigger. What could Simpson have up his sleeve that could overpower him? David had grown up having scuffles with both of his brothers. Dealing with this little slimy bastard would be easy.
He twirled his cane, tapping the head into his hand. Then he snapped the cane out. The heavy end of the cane caught Simpson in the face, knocking him back a few paces. Simpson cried out and clutched at his nose. David lowered his cane and braced his feet, ready for a fight.
“Try it, Simpson,” he challenged. “Just try it.”
Simpson lowered his hands and stared at them. Blood covered his fingers, and David could see more blood on his face. The man looked up at David with stunned outrage. He snarled and started towards David.
“David?”
Simpson jerked back like he had been shot. David looked around to see Peter hurrying out of the club. He hadn’t realized his brother had been inside. Peter jogged over to David’s side.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” David gave Simpson a pointed look. “Mr Simpson was just leaving.”
Simpson bared his yellowed teeth, hissing at him. “I’ll make you pay for that, Harrison,” he growled. “You’ll regret laying a finger on me.”
“Try it.” David advanced on him. “I dare you.”
Simpson faltered and started to back away as David stalked towards him. Then, he hurried away, mumbling something that sounded like obscenities as he crossed the street. David let out a heavy sigh. He then realized his hands were shaking.
“David?”
David looked up. Peter was watching him curiously. It had been a while since his brother had witnessed David lash out. David licked his lips and swallowed. “I’m all right. Just get me out of here.”
Peter nodded grimly. “Happy to oblige.”
David barely remembered the journey home. He had been bundled into the carriage Peter had flagged down and then they were hurried back to the townhouse. David had stared at his hands, at the cuts on his knuckles as he felt the throbbing in his fingers, unaware of the world moving by.
The bastard Simpson thought he could get more money out of him? Not a chance. Twelve hundred pounds from a one hundred pound lend was ridiculous. And David wasn’t even late with the repayment. He hadn’t even reached the deadline. Simpson seemed to making up the rules as he went along.
If he tried that next time their paths crossed, David would make sure Simpson never attempted that on him again. After that swipe, Simpson would know that while David was more even-tempered than his brother, he could certainly snap given the right push.
The carriage pulled up outside their father’s townhouse. Peter paid the driver and tugged David up the steps and inside. David tripped over the carpet as he came into the hall, his hat slipping off and bouncing across the room. From the far end of the hall, a middle-aged man with thinning red hair in a smart suit entered and walked towards them.
“Mr. Harrison. Captain Harrison.” He greeted them cordially as he picked up the hat, barely missing a step as he did. “How was your evening out?”
“It was...eventful,” David murmured. He was still staring at his hands as the butler undid his cloak and slid it off his shoulders. Roberts frowned at him.
“Are you well, Mr. Harrison?”
“David?” Peter was at his side, shaking his arm.
David hadn’t realized he had started to tune everyone out. He was still replaying the scene in the street in his head, wondering if there was a way it could have gone better. He hated confrontation. David shrugged off his brother as Peter shook his arm harder.
“I’m fine, Peter. Leave off.”
“You’re pale, David. You’re clearly not.”
David snorted. “Can you blame me? Simpson threatened me. How can I be calm after that?”
“It’s going to take a lot to threaten you, and Simpson’s small-time.” Peter shrugged off his cloak, handing it to Roberts. “We’re going to be in the morning room, Roberts. No one is to disturb us unless someone’s dying.”
“Yes, Captain Harrison.”
Roberts walked away and Peter led David into the room off to the left. The curtains had already been drawn across the huge windows and the fire was blazing in the grate. Candles had been lit around the room, flickering as the two men headed towards the settee by the fire. Peter pushed David down and started pacing around on the hearth rug. David groaned and pressed his hands to his eyes.
“Please, Peter, don’t do that again. You’re making me dizzy.”
“It’s not any worse than what you’ve done,” Peter shot back, rounding on his brother. “What were you doing taking a loan from a lender in the first place? And from Stephen Simpson, for God’s sake!”
“You mentioned that you used him to get some money in the past, and I needed a little extra to help out with paying our workers their wages.” David hated the fact that he sounded like he was whining. “I thought it was a good idea at the time.”
“Clearly, it wasn’t.” Peter snorted. He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “You should’ve spoken to me more about it, known the lay of the land before you ran head-first into it. I would have told you that asking Simpson was the worst idea possible.”
“It was barely one hundred pounds!” David shot back. “That I can easily pay back. We just fell short last month because the crops didn’t do as well as they should.”
Everything had picked up after that momentary falter, and David was determined to
get things back on track. His workers did their best, and they never let him down. He wanted to make sure that he could do the same for them.
Peter sighed and shook his head. “Your heart is far too soft when it comes to our Irish estate, David.”
“What’s wrong with that? I promised Pa I would take over the farming land and keep it up to scratch as he had done. And that’s what I’m doing.”
“You’re still too soft.” Peter dropped onto the couch across from David, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, brother, Simpson has nothing on you. You’re a bachelor with an impeccable reputation. He should know that you’re a man of your word.”
David made a face. “Maybe it’s because I’m too clean that he’s trying to unnerve me.”
But then he thought, not that clean. He couldn’t be. Or the woman he loved wouldn’t have disappeared out of his life without a word.
Chapter Three
“He unnerves everyone, David,” Peter said. “You just have to learn when to pick your battles. You can’t pick a fight with him because Simpson comes back twice as hard.”
“He’s done that with you, has he?”
Peter nodded and made a face. “I learned the hard way about that man.”
David didn’t want to know. Peter had a habit of exaggerating things. It was something that all sailors did; they told of daring adventures on the high seas to impress everyone, when all they did was simply transport cargo. David didn’t even think Peter had encountered any pirates, but the stories did make him smile.
“What do you think I should do?”
“You pay the money back. The one hundred you originally borrowed. You’ve made a note of the lending, haven’t you?”
“I always do.”
David was meticulous in his bookkeeping. He made sure that he was on top of everything, including the rare times he needed to find money elsewhere.
“There you go. You go with that. He can’t extort money out of you as you’re not going to be late and you’re planning on paying him back because you’re a good man who always keeps his slate clean.” Peter spread his hands. “The man’s just greedy and the power he thinks he possesses has gone to his head.”
“He’s a bastard,” David growled.
Peter chuckled. “I couldn’t agree more, but antagonizing him isn’t going to get you anywhere.”
Peter stood and headed towards the drinks cabinet by the fireplace. David slumped back against the cushions and pressed his hands over his face. This day had not gone as well as he had hoped. Tomorrow could not come soon enough. He couldn’t wait to get home and get back to work. That was what kept him happy.
Only one other thing in life had kept him happy, but she had gone a long time ago. David didn’t think he was going to get her back.
“Here.”
David looked up. Peter was standing over him, holding out a chunky glass with brown liquid swirling around.
“Drink it. You look like you need it.”
David shook his head. “You know I don’t drink, Peter.”
“Only in the last eight years. I’ve got to keep trying.”
“And you’re going to keep failing.” David pushed the glass away. “No, I don’t want a drink.”
Peter huffed. Then he took a swig of the drink himself before moving away. “What is it with you and drinking, anyway? We used to drink all the time, and then you just stopped overnight.”
“That’s my business.”
It was a part of David’s life that he didn’t want to explain to anyone. It had made everything change. David didn’t want to lose anything more due to the bottle.
Peter sighed, almost sounding like he was disappointed in his twin. “Fine. I’ll get some tea brought to you. You just sit there and calm yourself down.” He pulled the bellrope by the fireplace. “You’re not going to be doing anyone any favors when you’re like this.”
David snorted, casting Peter a smirk. “I was always telling you that. Since when have our roles reversed?”
“Maybe I’ve just grown up now.” Peter finished the rest of the glass and went back to the cabinet. “Now, stay there.”
“Do you want me to bark and roll over as well?”
David was still laughing as Peter threw a cushion at his head.
Arabella looked out of the window. The rain had now stopped, and the sun was out again. There were barely any clouds in the sky. The late spring showers were on their way out.
She put aside the ladle she had been using on the stew and headed towards the kitchen door, picking up a pair of thick clothes.
“Jeffrey, could you watch the pot for me?” she asked, slipping on the clothes. “I’m just going to do some gardening.”
Sitting at the kitchen table peeling potatoes, her brother looked up and scowled at her.
“I’m the footman, Arabella, not the cook,” he snapped. “You’ve already got me peeling potatoes. What more do you want?”
“To do as you’re told by your older sister,” Arabella shot back. “I don’t want lunch spoiled, and I promised Mrs. Day that I would get on with pruning those roses.”
Anna Day would be back soon, and Arabella wanted to have her mistress settled with her lunch before she set off to have lunch with her own family further down the country trail. It was the only stipulation Arabella had with her job as Anna’s maid, to take her meals with her parents in their cottage. Anna had been more than happy with that. She was a kind employer, very gentle and strong. After everything she had been through in the past, it was no wonder that Anna was stronger than most people Arabella had come across.
“I thought Mrs. Day loved to do the gardening?” Jeffrey asked as he dropped another peeled potato into the pan of water at his feet.
“She does, but she always avoids the rose bush. I offered to do it.”
Arabella hated the rose bush herself, but if it meant going outside she would take it. Arabella loved the outdoors. Jeffrey sighed heavily, almost like a petulant child.
“All right, I’ll keep an eye on lunch. What should I be looking for?”
“If it starts bubbling too much, turn the stove off. That means it’s ready.”
“It’s bubbling now.”
“It’s simmering.” Arabella opened the back door. “If it bubbles too much, turn the stove off. Simple.”
“For you, it is.” Jeffrey grumbled. “You’re the one who is meant to be at the stove, not me.”
Arabella resisted the urge to give him a sharp retort. Jeffrey had been particularly grumpy lately, and the family was stumped as to why. At twenty years of age, Jeffrey was still a bit wild, a grown man who resented a grown man’s duties. He had driven Lord Derby to some despair, but he had kept Jeffrey on as a footman. When Jeffrey put his mind to it, he was good at his job. It was more like a relief for the earl when Anna was choosing two servants for her cottage and Arabella had suggested Jeffrey to come with her.
But in the last few months, Jeffrey had become withdrawn, sullenly getting on with his work and snapping at everyone. Not even his mother could get through to him.
Arabella pondered about her brother as she crossed the wet grass to the rose bush. Maybe he was upset over a girl. Jeffrey did have an eye for spotting pretty girls. Maybe one of them spurned him and Jeffrey didn’t take it well; not that he would tell Arabella about it. Affairs of the heart weren’t exactly something a young man who talk about with his older sister, especially when her love life was even worse than his.
Arabella would not think about it. She didn’t need to deal with the memories. It had happened, and Arabella had suffered the consequences. She would not bring them back to slap her in the face.
She would not.
The rose bush wasn’t in a fighting mood that morning, the spring shower seeming to have softened it up. Arabella found it easier than normal to cut off the dead roses, dropping them into the basket she had left by the bush right before the rain started. This would be completed in no time, and then Arabella could get back to
the stew before Jeffrey ruined it. Chances were he wouldn’t pay attention to it at all.
She was cutting off the last dead rose when there was the rattling of wheels further up the road. Arabella looked up and saw a carriage trundling down the hill towards the cottage. It wasn’t Anna - she had chosen to go for a walk - and they weren’t expecting visitors. At least none that Arabella knew of. If it was Viscount Harrison, he would have left a calling card in advance.
Then the carriage got closer, and Arabella recognized the man in charge of the reins, keeping the horses together. She groaned. What now? Didn’t the woman know when to give up? This was the fifth time in three weeks that she had come down to Anna’s cottage, uninvited, and each time had been sent away with a flea in her ear.