by Joan Smith
She made her cousins welcome and even granted Mrs. Wickfield the honor of rising upon her entrance. As she did so, her knowledgeable eyes ran over Anne’s well-worn yellow gown. Really, the girl was hopeless!
“Dear Anne!” She smiled as she enclosed her cousin in a perfumed embrace. “How good to see you again. Isn’t it wonderful to have Alex back home, safe and sound? Hasn’t he grown thin, though? I’ve been teasing him this past hour for not eating properly in Spain. But you know Alex—he was always so fussy about his beefsteak being done just right. I scarcely recognized him.”
Seats were taken, and conversation became general but mostly monopolized by the verbose duchess. “I could strangle Alex for not stopping off to see us on his way through London. I would love to have shown him off. However, he says he didn’t know we were there. Imagine not knowing we were in London at the height of the Season! Where did he think we’d be?”
“We hadn’t heard from you in a while, Rose,” Aunt Tannie apologized. “We sent notes off to your London address and your country place, to make sure you got word immediately.”
“It was a miracle I got your note. I was half packed to dart to Brighton for the weekend, for Exmore’s uncle has a home there, you must know, right on Marine Parade. He begs us to spend time with him. We are missing a very fine ball in London tonight—the Castlereaghs—and the assembly at Almack’s, not that it is worth worrying about. It is only good for finding a parti. I shall make sure to take Alex when he comes to town.”
“How is Exmore?” Mrs. Wickfield asked when the duchess stopped to draw breath.
“In sterling health. He’s out walking with Alex this minute. Nothing ever bothers him. I have had shortness of breath often the past month, but Exmore has the constitution of a horse. And the children take after their papa.” She expatiated for several minutes on the precocity of her offspring, till her roving eye chanced to fall on Babe, which gave her chatter a new turn.
“What a little lady you are become, eh? You’ll be coming to Rosalie to be presented one of these days.”
“Loo will be there a good while before her,” Aunt Tannie mentioned.
Loo was reaching the awkward age. She did not look nearly so appealing as Babe, which was held to account for her being ignored. Babe was allowed to sit at Rosalie’s daintily shod foot and play with the flounce of her gown. There was, in fact, a better reason, but it was not generally known that Aunt Lucretia was on the point of dying and had mentioned Babe as being one of the recipients of her estate.
The country ladies had been put in touch with all the latest fashions at court and much of the gossip concerning people totally unknown to them before the gentlemen came in. They were dusty from their walk and had to change before joining the ladies. Exmore, the visitor, received the first attention of them all. He was not handsome and not particularly interesting, certainly not at all amusing, but he was Rosalie’s ducal husband, and so all the ladies except his wife made a fuss over him.
Rosalie turned her flashing eye on Alex. “When are you coming to London to visit us? I’ve been bragging to the whole world that the hero of the Peninsular Campaign is my brother.”
“I’m no hero,” Alex objected.
“You are a slow top, Alex. I never saw your name in the list of honors. And came home only a major, after a year and a half. I swear if it had been Charlie, he’d be a general.”
“I’m not Charlie. And I shan’t be visiting you, I’m afraid. I am very busy about the estate. I must make a short visit to the city, but I don’t plan to make a social occasion of it.”
“But you’ll come to dinner!” Rosalie exclaimed.
“Certainly, but don’t turn it into a party on my account.”
“You won’t want to be seen till you get some decent jackets,” Rosalie agreed mindlessly. Then her eye chanced to fall on Robin, and she went into ecstasies of delight. “Now, there is a lad I should be proud to have at my table. My, what a menace to civilization. Look at that jacket, Exmore. Why can’t you look like that?”
How a stubby gentleman pushing forty with narrow shoulders and sandy hair was expected to accomplish this miracle did not occur to her.
“Heh-heh, a dashed handsome young fellow he has grown into.” Exmore smiled.
“I can’t afford Robin’s tailor,” Alex said.
“Not in the suds, I hope,” Rosalie said swiftly.
“We’re having tough sledding,” he admitted. Rosalie and Exmore exchanged a quick glance, but nothing more was said.
Rosalie embarked on another round of gossip. “Exmore—dear Bertie—has bought me a new phaeton, if you please. He says I am a shocking poor whip and insists on accompanying me in the park. What a quiz we look, man and wife tooling through Hyde Park together. We go in the morning, when no one is there.”
“You’d look stranger with some other man by your side,” Alex said. His sister stared at his antiquated notions.
“We’ve had gas put in the London house,” Exmore offered. “It’s the coming thing. Gives a very good light, much brighter than candles. Bright as daylight.”
“It sounds dangerous,” Mrs. Tannie said with a shiver.
“We are very worried about poor Aunt Lucretia. She is not at all well” was Rosalie’s next remark, uttered with a bright eye that belied her concern. “Seventy-five, of course, it is only to be expected. Shall I tell them, Bertie?”
“It ain’t a secret, so far as I know.”
“I’ll tell you, then, but don’t dare ask me how I know. Our solicitor, McDougall, is her man as well, and he let it slip. She is leaving some money to Babe.” Babe’s curls were rumpled affectionately at this news.
“How much?” Babe asked. “I hope it’s a guinea. I want a new bridle.”
Rosalie laughed gaily at such unimaginative desires. “More than that, Goosie.”
Alex made no effort to conceal his interest. “How much is it?” he asked hopefully.
“Ten thousand pounds!” Rosalie announced, and laughed in pure joy at the sound of the words.
Loo took instant offense. “Why isn’t she leaving me any?”
“Because she was the youngest daughter herself, and feels they are slighted. She’s leaving the same to all her youngest great-nieces. How I wish I were the youngest.” Rosalie sighed.
There was general rejoicing at this news, and Babe was heartily congratulated. “Very wise,” Alex approved. “The youngest, and especially the girls, fare badly. Leave it to Lucretia—she was always a sound and sensible old lady. I daresay it would be a bit previous of me to write and thank her, as we haven’t heard officially yet.”
“It would be utterly farouche!” Rosalie objected. “But as you and the old lady always got on well, you must call on her when you’re in London. Wear your regimentals. She has a soft spot for a uniform. It might put a new heir in her head.”
“That would be because her husband was a soldier,” Mrs. Wickfield mentioned.
“Was he?” Rosalie asked. “Fancy that. I often wondered who the ugly old fellow in the painting by her bed was. I hope I didn’t twit her about him.”
“My uniforms are put away in camphor,” Alex said.
“Then get them out and air them!” Rosalie said, laughing.
“I’m no longer in the army. I’ve sold out.”
“Lud, what does that matter? She’ll never know the difference. What a simpleton you are, Alex. I swear none of you knows how to manage here since I left.”
“I approve of Aunt Lucretia’s manner of leaving her fortune. I won’t try to turn her up sweet by playing on her sympathy.”
“I begin to understand why you remained a major,” Rosalie snipped. “You just said you were having tough times here.”
“We are, but I’ll take care of it.”
“I hope you do it in a hurry, for I might as well get to the point at once, Alex....”
He mistrusted that pious look on Rosalie’s face. “What point?”
“Exmore wants to speak to you abo
ut that three thousand pounds you owe him.” She leveled a commanding stare at Exmore.
Alex’s face went perfectly blank. “I don’t understand. I borrowed nothing from Exmore.” He looked a question at his brother-in-law.
“No, no, it wasn’t Alex, Rosie. We’ll discuss it later.”
“No, tell me now,” Alex demanded.
It was typical of the Penholmes that a matter of this nature be discussed in front of everyone—guests, children, and all.
“The thing is,” Exmore began reluctantly, “Charles borrowed three thousand from me six months before he died. He’d joined the Jockey Club, you recall—”
“I heard nothing about it. He didn’t write to me at all.”
“He never even told me, “ Robin said, offended at having been left out of this secret, which would have been of consuming interest to him.
“Well, he did it anyhow,” Exmore continued. “He was planning to train a filly for the Derby—bought a flashy piece of horseflesh from Alvanley and gave it to the Croker brothers to train, but then he died before it ever ran, and the Crokers kept it as payment for stabling fees and training fees and so on.”
“Oh, lord,” Alex said. It was only a sigh, but his feelings were easy to read from his dejected face and sagging shoulders.
“And he never even paid the interest,” Rosalie added.
“He was dead, Rose,” her husband reminded her.
“It comes to close to four thousand now,” Rose continued. “He gave Bertie a note at ten percent two years ago, and with the high cost of everything nowadays, we could use the money.”
“Rosie, I can’t pay it right away,” Alex said with a worried frown. “I’ve been selling everything that isn’t nailed down to pay back wages and pay off the local merchants. Ten percent! Isn’t that a bit steep? I mean, within the family.”
“I don’t suppose you wanted your own brother running to the cent percenters!” she riposted. “It’s your duty, Alex. Your income is ten thousand a year.”
“No, it isn’t! It’s down to six with the way things have been mismanaged, and everything mortgaged to the roof. Penholme, Sawburne ...”
“And Charlie sold the Leicester place, of course,” Rosalie added. “Well, you can always sell the London house. You won’t use it much anyway, if I know you.”
“It begins to look as though I’ll have to sell it,” he said reluctantly. As they all watched, his reluctance stiffened to opposition. “I won’t, though.”
“If you can pay everyone else, you can pay the family,” Rosalie said, a martial fire burning in her eyes.
“You can have my money, Alex,” Babe said trustingly.
Rosalie nodded in approval.
“Don’t be foolish,” Alex said. “That’s yours. It begins to look as though it’s all you can ever depend on, so you’d best hang on to it.”
“You will be her guardian,” Rosalie pointed out.
“Rosalie! You surely don’t expect me to steal Babe’s inheritance to pay Exmore!”
Exmore sat embarrassed, for he was not yet accustomed to the Penholmes’ blunt way of dragging all the dirty linen into the middle of the saloon.
“I didn’t say steal,” Rosalie countered. “Borrow it. Pay her interest.”
“With what money do I repay her? We’re holding on here by our fingernails. And anyway, Lucretia isn’t dead yet. Whatever possessed you to lend Charles such a sum? You might have known he’d squander it.”
“He was making up to Sylvia Mapleton at the time. She has a huge dowry and is very horsey. It seemed like a good idea.”
“He only said that to get the money out of you,” Alex said bitterly.
“That’s not true. They were always together.”
“I don’t see why Alex should be hobbled with Charlie’s debts,” Robin said.
Rosalie gave him a vastly superior look. “It is a matter of honor, Robin dear. When you’re older, you’ll understand.”
“I understand well enough you’re dunning Alex for his brother’s debts. Charlie was your brother, too. You take the loss.”
“Shut up, you insufferable gas bag!” she shouted, all elegance forgotten.
Alex looked interested at his brother’s idea, and Rosalie spoke on to settle the matter. “He borrowed it as Lord Penholme, you see, and now Alex is Lord Penholme, so the debt, like the title and estate, devolve upon him. I’m quite sure any solicitor would agree with me,” she said brightly.
Exmore made a sound of disagreeing. “We don’t intend to sue,” he said.
Alex turned to Exmore. “How badly do you need the money?”
“I don’t want to cause you any trouble, Penholme.”
“Bertie!” Rosalie rapped out in a stern voice. “The fact of the matter is, we had hoped to take it back with us this week. Bertie’s uncle usually gives us a couple of thousand every year, and we have come to depend on it, but he is cutting back, as everyone is, and tells us not to expect it this year. We have already spent it. The gas lighting and my new phaeton, and everything so wretchedly dear.”
“Just when I thought I was coming around,” Alex said grimly, but he shouldered this new responsibility. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try to raise it somehow within the next few weeks.” He concluded that he must mortgage the London house, much as he disliked to, with all the other mortgages hanging over his head. How could he possibly pay them all? He would have to rent the town house and let the rents pay off the mortgage. He felt as if an ocean of debt were engulfing him, leaving him gasping for air.
“Just how bad is it?” Rosalie asked.
“Very bad,” he said. He went on to outline the financial chaos, and she nodded consideringly. She was not intelligent but had an animal cunning that found a solution before he finished.
“What you must do is come to London and marry yourself an heiress. Don’t sell the London house. Open it up and throw a party.”
“Are you insane? I can’t afford to have the knocker screwed on, let alone staff the place and throw a party.”
“Do it on tick. There aren’t many handsome young earls on the market—a hero, to boot. A pity you sold out, or you could wear your uniform. There’s an excellent crop of heiresses this year. The moneylenders are very considerate toward eligible lords.”
“Don’t be foolish,” he said curtly.
“It is you who are being foolish. How else are you to come around? You’re twenty-seven, Alex. It’s time you were thinking of settling down. You’ve had your little fling, a spot of travel to foreign spots.”
Alex just flickered a glance in Anne’s direction, but Rosalie’s lynx-like eyes saw it. She knew Alex used to be fond of Anne years ago but thought he had gotten over that when he left. Indeed, she always assumed it was Annie’s rejection of his offer that sent him to Spain. No doubt Anne would accept now that Alex was Lord Penholme.
“I think it is a positive duty,” she said piously, and looked around the room for support. “You have the twins and the girls to consider, to say nothing of Robin.”
“He’s giving me Sawburne,” Robin said.
“Giving away estates—my, that doesn’t sound like a poor man!”
“It’s mortgaged,” Robin said.
“And you get the mortgage to go with it, dear?”
“Yes, the mortgage to go with it! Alex had enough to worry about with the shambles Charlie made of everything. I’ll bring Sawburne around myself. I can do it.”
“Charles never could.”
“He might have if you and others like you weren’t so foolish as to go lending him money to toss around as though it were water. I don’t think Alex is legally bound to pay. I bet you couldn’t collect it in a court of law.”
“That’s enough, Rob,” Alex said in a quelling voice. “Exmore lent the money in good faith and will be paid. Let’s have done with this discussion.”
And they were done with it. From a heated argument they soon sailed into a perfectly amiable discussion of plans for coming events
: the assembly at Eastleigh, the garden party in the evanescent future. Babe’s inheritance. By the time dinner was called, there wasn’t a frown on any face, but there were plans a-plenty in every head.
Alex worried over how he would juggle all his bills, Exmore pondered how to proceed without touching Alex for payment at this time, and Anne worried that Alex wasn’t out of the basket yet. Rosalie mistrusted the way Alex directed his attention to Anne Wickfield. There was no counting on him to do the proper thing, but Anne was always a sensible girl. The position must be brought most forcefully to her attention. With this end in view, she chose a place at table beside Anne.
“I was speaking to Cousin Florian the other day, Anne,” she began. “He’s growing into a handsome fellow. Has he been down to Rosedale recently to look over his inheritance? ‘‘
“Not recently. We see him perhaps once a year. Mama has life tenancy, you know.”
“Yes, but it will all be Florian’s one day. How old is he now?”
“He must be eighteen or nineteen.”
“Ah, he looks older. And you are twenty-one now, eh? All grown-up and looking about for a match, I daresay.”
“I’m twenty-two,” Anne replied.
“You still seem like a girl to me, an old married lady with two babes in the nursery. We are all getting on, are we not? After Alex is settled, I daresay you’ll be the next one to marry, Anne. Alex must many money, of course, the way things stand at present.”
Anne stirred in discomfort, hardly knowing what to say. “He must do something to bring his affairs into order,” she agreed.
Rosalie’s handsome eyes narrowed dangerously. “Oh, a good marriage—it is the only solution!”
“There is usually more than one solution to any problem, however complex,” Anne replied, so coldly that Rosalie desisted and complimented Anne on her gold gown, which she had always liked so much, and Anne must be fond of it, too, as she was still wearing it.
After the ladies retired to the gold saloon, the gentlemen remained at their port for longer than usual. Exmore liked his port very well, but eventually the impatient jiggling of Robin got through to him, and they all went along to the saloon.