by Diane Gaston
No! Amelie could not have misjudged Reid so completely, could she? Could she not trust the character of any man she met? Poor Sally. Amelie had practically thrown Sally at Mr Reid.
‘Yes!’ Frye pointed a finger at Reid. ‘Mr Reid defrauded you and embezzled from you.’
‘What did he do, precisely, Mr Frye?’ Edmund asked.
Mr Frye looked smug. ‘It appears he made it look as though the sheep sold for less than they really did and that he purchased new stock at a lower price than they really were. I believe he used that principle in buying and selling everything.’
‘I wonder how you could tell that from your records,’ Edmund remarked in a casual tone.
Amelie stood straighter. How would that show up on records?
‘Mr Reid has a tale that is a bit more detailed than Frye’s,’ Edmund said. ‘And he has the records to prove it.’
A panicked look flashed through Frye’s eyes, but he lifted his chin. ‘You cannot tell me anyone will believe a hill farmer over me.’
‘A hill farmer with good records.’ Edmund turned to her father. ‘You are a reasonable man, sir. Listen to him.’ He nodded to Reid.
Reid cleared his throat. ‘Sir, five years ago I repeatedly asked for more funds to improve the farm. When I came on, it was in a poor state. I appealed to you through Mr Frye, who said you refused. I indicated how dire the situation was, and it was he who suggested the scheme he described—’
‘I never did!’ protested Frye.
‘Go on,’ her father said.
‘I felt I had no choice, sir,’ Reid said to her father. ‘If the farm failed, all its people would be out of work. The village would suffer. The other farms, too. I could not let that happen. You had good land. Good buildings. You had the foundation of good stock.’
Perhaps Amelie had not misjudged Reid. Whatever he’d done, he sounded as though he’d done it for the farm and its people.
As he talked she stole glances at Edmund, who looked in total command of the situation, unless you saw the stress at the corner of his eyes.
Shame on her for doubting him, for not trusting him. He never failed her. Never.
Reid went on. ‘If you want to inspect the books, sir, I will show you everything. Where every penny went, including the forty pounds per year paid to Mr Frye.’
‘Paid to Mr Frye!’ Her father swung around to his man of business.
‘It is not true,’ Frye said, but his voice turned weak.
‘Will your books show where every penny went?’ Edmund asked Frye.
Frye returned a panicked look.
Her father frowned. ‘I believe I would like to see these books, Reid.’
‘They are in the library,’ Edmund said.
Her father swiftly crossed the room to the door. Reid followed him.
Edmund walked up to Amelie. He touched her arm. ‘Would you wait here with Frye? I’ll have Rogers stay in the room with you. I want someone to watch him, and you are the only one—’
She covered his hand with hers. ‘You do not have to explain.’ She smiled at him. ‘Not this time.’
He touched her face and walked out.
* * *
By the time the three men returned to the drawing room, Mr Frye was seated in a chair, quivering in fear and muttering to himself that he could not go to prison, that he could not die on the gallows.
Her father walked up to him directly. ‘Here is what you will do, Frye, if you wish to avoid the gallows.’ His voice vibrated with anger. ‘You will return to London. You will get my affairs in order so they can be turned over to a reputable replacement. You will pay back the money you have stolen in payments from Reid. Then you will leave London, and I had better never hear of you or see you again. The only reason I spare your life is to avoid the scandal that would surely ensue.’
Frye rose from his chair with difficulty, but he nodded vigorously.
Edmund added, ‘I’ll have a man drive you in the wagon to Keswick. You can get a coach back to London from there.’
Edmund glanced over at Rogers. ‘Can you manage it, Rogers?’
Rogers smiled. ‘Oh, aye, sir. I’ll see to it.’ When Frye reached the doorway, Rogers seized his arm. ‘Stay with me, sir.’
‘Would you like to see the farm now, Lord Northdon?’ Reid asked her father.
‘I would.’ He started for the door but turned. ‘Are you coming, too, Summerfield?’
Edmund glanced at Amelie before he followed her father.
She watched him leave the room, wishing for just a moment or two alone with him, enough time for her to tell him she loved him.
* * *
After the tour of the farm, Edmund and Lord Northdon left Reid at his office and walked back to the house.
‘The farm is well-run, do you not think?’ Edmund said. There was nothing like showing it to make the point that Reid’s money had been well spent.
‘Impressive,’ Lord Northdon said. ‘But do not suppose this changes anything.’
Edmund went cold inside. ‘What is your meaning, sir?’
‘Reid still embezzled money.’
Had Northdon not seen the sense of everything? Reid’s acceptance of the embezzlement scheme had saved the farm. Northdon had made money instead of losing the entire estate.
He halted. ‘Sir, you can’t jail Reid. Think of the farm. Breeding is about to begin. You would be throwing away the profits Reid has produced for you.’
Northdon started walking again. ‘I agree. Reid ought to stay.’ He paused for a long time. ‘You should go.’
‘What?’
‘I want you to go,’ Northdon repeated.
‘You wanted us here, now you want us to leave?’ He and Amelie did not need to be uprooted again. They needed time together.
‘As you know,’ Northdon went on, ‘I have no liking for you and the way you ill-used my daughter.’
‘Much has happened since then,’ Edmund said.
‘This is not a suitable life for my daughter!’ Northdon threw up his arms. ‘In such a house. Managing servants who would do better working in the fields.’
‘This is your property.’
‘I did not remember how rustic it was.’ Northdon waved a hand. ‘And I did not want to send Amelie here. I wanted her to stay with her mother and me. She may have been ruined for a good marriage, but she can at least enjoy a pleasant life.’
Edmund’s anger grew. He was a villain in this man’s eyes—a bastard—and there was no changing that. ‘Speak plainly, sir.’
‘I mean I want to take my daughter home. Alone. I want you to leave her. And if you do not, I will call the magistrate and have Reid prosecuted, jailed and hung.’
‘No.’ Edmund could manage to say no more.
‘I am absolutely determined.’ Northdon’s voice was firm.
‘This is impossible.’ Edmund fumed. ‘Either I ruin the lives of all these people or I hurt Amelie.’
‘She will recover well enough when she is back home.’
No, she would not recover. She’d never trust anyone again.
‘You cursed contemptible scoundrel!’ Edmund shouted.
He strode off, making haste to put distance between himself and Northdon before he put his fist in the older man’s jaw, but he waited for Northdon at the door to the house.
When Northdon came near, Edmund crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I call your bluff, sir.’
Northdon’s brows rose, but his smug expression did not change.
Edmund stared him straight in the face. ‘I am going to wager on you being a decent man. I’m going to wager that only a decent man would have produced a daughter like Amelie, a son like Glenville. Only a decent man would have defied society to marry a woman like Lady Northdon. I wager that you will not ruin a
good man like Mr Reid; you will not impoverish this farm and its people and its village’s people just to hurt me. I wager that, even though you detest me, you will not hurt others merely to revenge yourself on me. So I defy your threat.’
Northdon pursed his lips, but Edmund thought he saw a moment of acquiescence, even respect, in his eyes. ‘It is a great risk you take.’
‘I do not need this farm,’ he said. ‘I do not need you and your money or even Amelie’s dowry. I can well support my wife myself. I can and will prosper.’ He leaned forward for more emphasis. ‘But I need Amelie. I need her the way I need air to breathe. I will not leave her, not unless she wants me to go.’
Northdon tilted his head. ‘Ah, but suppose she does want you to go. Suppose she would prefer to return to the comfort and loving arms of her family. Would you let her go then?’
The idea of it was like a fresh sabre cut, straight to his heart. ‘If Amelie wishes for me to leave her, I will leave, but only if it is what she desires.’
‘Then let us ask her.’ Northdon pushed past him and walked into the house.
They found Amelie upstairs in the bedchamber that the maid was readying for Lord Northdon.
‘We need to speak to you, Amelie,’ her father said.
Amelie glanced at Edmund with a questioning expression. He had no answer for her.
She turned to Jobson. ‘Are you finished in here?’
The maid glanced at Lord Northdon with a scornful expression. Edmund supposed the servants already knew Northdon had come intending to arrest Reid.
‘I’m done, ma’am.’ Jobson curtsied and left the room.
Amelie’s eyes slid towards Edmund again before she turned to her father. ‘Well?’
It was Edmund who answered. ‘Your father wishes you to make a choice.’
* * *
‘What now, Papa?’ Amelie said, exasperated with her father.
Her father’s eyes twitched. ‘I had forgotten this house was so ramshackle. Like living in a tenant’s hut. The servants are deplorable. You’ve been used to finer things, better service and more comfort. You certainly have not been required to work in the fields.’
Someone told him she’d helped with the haymaking? How unfortunate.
‘What is this choice?’ she asked impatiently.
He responded, ‘Come back to Northdon House with me and resume the life you were born to.’
‘Edmund does not wish to live at Northdon House.’ Why was he bringing this up again? ‘That was settled back in London.’
Her father gave her an intent look. ‘I meant for you to come home.’
Her stomach clenched. ‘Without my husband, you mean.’ She turned to Edmund. ‘Do you want me to leave with my father?’ She quickly added. ‘And do not answer by asking me what I want. Just answer me.’
He held her gaze but did not speak right away. Finally he said, ‘No, I do not want you to leave me.’ His voice was low, but she felt it pulsate inside her. ‘I will not prevent you, though, if you desire to leave.’
She closed her eyes and inhaled. Edmund always told her the truth. He did not want her to leave him. She could trust that.
She swung back to her father. ‘What are you about, Papa? Why are you trying to separate me from Edmund? I love him, Papa.’
Her father lifted his chin. ‘How can you say that? He defiled you.’
‘He did not defile me, Papa. Why can you not understand that? That night was a beginning for us—a lucky one, Papa.’ She stole a glance at Edmund but could not let her gaze linger lest her emotions spill over. She turned back to her father. ‘Are you making me choose between here and Northdon House? Because I want to stay here. Or are you forcing me to choose between Edmund and you and Maman? That would pain me to the quick, but my choice must be Edmund. Do you know why? Because Edmund would never force me to make such a choice.’
Her father’s head bowed.
She lowered her voice. ‘Make yourself comfortable, Papa. Hines will come to tell you of dinner. We keep country hours here.’ She walked out the door, hearing and feeling Edmund following her. Her feelings for him were raw and acute, and she feared she would burst if she let them loose.
He seized her arm and pulled her into an embrace. They held on to each other as if a violent whirlwind threatened to blow them apart. Perhaps that was what had almost happened.
‘Amelie,’ he murmured. ‘Do you truly love me? Do you want to stay with me?’
She hugged him close again. ‘Of course.’
He released her but only enough so he could gaze into her face. ‘I have not said it to you, because I thought you would not want to hear it, but I love you, too, Amelie. I believe I started to love you the instant we met, but I knew I was not good enough for you.’
‘Good enough?’ she cried. ‘You are the best man I know, the most honourable man I know. You are always there when I need you. You never lie to me. You always do what needs to be done.’
The door to her father’s bedchamber opened, and he stepped into the corridor.
Edmund’s grip on Amelie tightened, and she braced herself for whatever her father would say next.
‘Wait a moment,’ her father said in a quiet voice.
He approached them as they stayed rooted to the same spot.
He looked directly at Edmund. ‘Summerfield, my daughter is correct—my son even tried to tell me—you have behaved honourably ever since that—that one transgression. I, on the other hand, have behaved abominably. I am not going to have anyone arrested. I’m not making anyone choose between one thing and another.’ He extended his hand. ‘I apologise to you, sir.’
Edmund released Amelie and hesitated only a moment before accepting the handshake.
‘Oh, Papa!’ Amelie had feared her father might never see Edmund’s worth.
Her father lifted a hand. ‘I need to make amends—’
Edmund interrupted him. ‘Your apology is enough, sir.’
What other man would be so generous? Amelie’s heart swelled with pride.
Her father shook his head. ‘An apology is not nearly enough. I almost drove away my daughter! You stopped me. So, I want to give you something. I want to deed you this farm, if you would like it. Or its worth, if you would prefer. Call it a wedding present.’
His valet appeared in the corridor carrying folded clothing. He halted, brows raised.
Amelie pulled Edmund away. ‘Thank you, Papa! We will leave you to Hines and talk about this at dinner.’
Her father smiled wanly. ‘As you wish, Amelie. It should always be as you wish.’
Amelie led Edmund to his bedchamber.
Once inside he put his arms around her. ‘I knew your father was a decent man.’
She hugged him tight. ‘What do you wish to do, Edmund? Do you want the farm?’
‘Your father and I agree on one thing,’ he said. ‘It should be as you wish.’
‘I should like to stay here,’ she said. ‘But if you prefer, I will go to Brussels with you, Edmund. I will go anywhere with you.’
‘We stay here, then.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘It will be our home.’
She sighed. ‘Our home.’
He held her again. ‘Ah, Amelie. If it weren’t for the baby, I would say my life is perfect. With you.’
‘We will have more babies, Edmund.’ She pulled away and made him look at her. ‘We will be a family.’
Epilogue
August 1816—Brussels, Belgium
Edmund found Brussels much the same after a year, but also much altered. The buildings stood as majestically as before; the parc was as beautiful, but no soldiers in varied-colour uniforms walked down the streets or strolled through the shrubbery. There was no tension in the air, no fear of what was to come.
Edmund
and Amelie had just left Lady Summerfield and Count von Osten, Edmund’s stepmother and her lover. The visit had been a pleasant one. Lady Summerfield greeted him as warmly as ever, as if he were her son instead of her late husband’s bastard. She also welcomed Amelie and genuinely seemed to delight in her, taking her aside for a tête-à-tête. Edmund and Count von Osten talked over their investments, and Edmund had the chance to tell them both about the farm. They left, promising to come to dinner in two days’ time.
The afternoon was brisk and sunny, so they walked back to the Hotel de Flandre from rue Sainte Anne, where Lady Summerfield lived.
‘I liked her, Edmund.’ Amelie held his arm and they strolled down the street. ‘She is very charming but without pretence. I admire that.’
‘I’m glad.’ He put his hand over hers. ‘I wish my sisters would let themselves know her.’
‘In time perhaps,’ she said.
They walked past familiar buildings, crossing familiar streets.
‘Oh, my goodness.’ She suddenly stopped. ‘Do you know where we are?’
They were at the entrance of an alley. ‘This is where that ruffian dragged you,’ he said.
She clung to him tighter. ‘Where you rescued me.’
He slipped a kiss onto her temple. ‘I should like to thank that fellow.’
‘Thank him!’ She gave him a playful shove. ‘He was horrid! I am grateful you came along when you did!’
‘As am I.’ He hugged her. ‘We have had an eventful year.’
‘Most of it lovely,’ she agreed.
They resumed their stroll.
It, indeed, had been a lovely year for the most part. After Amelie’s father’s unreasonableness forced them to admit their love for each other, their days and nights had been more splendid than he could have imagined.
‘Who would have thought we’d end up on a sheep farm!’ she cried. ‘Or that I would love it so.’
‘I dare say Reid will keep it running well without us for a couple of months.’
She rested her cheek against his shoulder. ‘I miss it.’
‘I miss it, too,’ he admitted.
She squeezed his arm. ‘We did rather well this year, with all that happened, did we not?’