Late the following afternoon, Mary stood to the side, waiting her turn to be handed into the carriage. Thankfully, her mother had seen fit to allow them to take it and not walk to Netherfield. The shadows were lengthening, and the air was turning decidedly frigid. Nicholas stepped down to stand next to her as he waited for his horse to be brought around.
“You were successful?” She had hoped to see him in the drawing room before his meeting with Mr. Bingley, but he had been forced to arrive later than he had planned, due to some matter at his estate.
“I was. Rosemoore will have an additional field come March. I should not say, I suppose, but since you will no doubt be visiting your sisters after they are married, Mr. Bingley has not decided if he wishes to extend his lease past Michaelmas next, and so, his plans for the estate lands are not solidified. It is too new a position for him to have gotten his feet, which was beneficial to me.” He shifted from one foot to the other and laced his fingers together as if making sure his gloves were properly on each hand. “It is a rather cold day,” he commented.
“It is,” Mary replied. “I will be glad to find a place by the fire tonight. With any luck, I will be allowed to read in peace.”
“Does your mother still plague you?”
Mary felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Not as often as she wishes. Papa has seen to that.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
There was a warmth to his words that wrapped their way around Mary’s heart. “Your brother tells me he has taken some work with my uncle.” Mary bit her lip as the warmth left his expression at the mention of it. She had thought he would be glad to have his brother employed, so the hardening of his features confused her. “I know my uncle is only a country solicitor and your brother will have higher aspirations, but I thought it might do him good to be useful even if it is in such a position.”
“About that,” Nicholas began. He turned his head to look at her, and, realizing that she had stepped one step away and was looking flustered, he shifted from the questions he was about to ask regarding how she had learned of his brother’s need for funds. “I thank you for the suggestion. I am glad to see him using at least some of his time wisely.”
He studied her. She had lowered her eyes, and he thought he saw a small smile on her lips. His heart clenched as did his jaw at the thought that she might actually be considering his brother. His brother! Well, she should know exactly whom she was considering. “I cannot say Fred’s aspirations reach further than next week and his trip to Bath. However, should he manage to finish his course, he will be given use of the townhouse in London, although he has told me that he wishes to spend some time with Father and Mother before he takes up his robes.” He thanked the groom for his horse. “I thought it best that you know his plans before becoming too entangled.”
“Entangled?”
Mary’s shocked tone stopped his progress toward his horse. Was she not enamoured with his brother? “Forgive me. I saw him holding your hand yesterday and assumed it was given willingly.”
“No…I mean…I did not give him my hand, but he did not impose upon me by taking it. He was inspecting my glove, nothing more.”
“I do apologize, then, Miss Mary.”
Mary took a step towards him and spoke in a soft voice. “I would not give him my hand.” She drew a breath and shook her head. “Your brother is pleasant, but he is young and foolish. I know money runs through his pockets as quickly as water through sand.”
How could he think she would entertain the notion of marrying such a person? The thought caused anger to flash within her. “I may be young, Mr. Hammond, and in need of a husband, but I am not foolish. In fact, I am rather sensible — too sensible if you speak to my younger sisters.” Her eyes narrowed. Her anger had cooled a bit, leaving in its wake a pain in her heart and tears in her eyes. “I thought you knew me,” she whispered before she dipped a curtsey, turned quickly, and pushing past Darcy, did not wait to enter the carriage.
“That did not go as hoped,” Darcy whispered to Elizabeth.
“No, it did not,” said Elizabeth. “First, he was late, so there was no time for them to talk over tea, and then whatever that was.”
“He was late because a ledger went missing from his study,” explained Darcy. “Apparently, Mr. Fred Hammond and Mr. Whittemore took it upon themselves to begin learning how to keep accounts.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Poor Mr. Hammond.”
Darcy nodded. “The servants scoured the house looking for the book.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “And where did they find it?”
Darcy chuckled. “It and the thieves were in an empty stall in the stables.”
“Poor Mr. Hammond,” Elizabeth said once again. “He did very well to not look ruffled when he arrived.”
“I think he has come to expect such foolishness from his brother,” Darcy led her toward the carriage door. “Not that he had a great amount of equanimity. There was a decided edge of agitation to his air when we first began our discussions, but Bingley has a way of soothing ruffled feathers.”
Elizabeth raised an impertinent brow as Darcy kissed her hand before handing her into the carriage. “I imagine he has had plenty of practice, considering who his sister is.”
“I am certain he has,” said Darcy with a chuckle. Then, after casting a look over his shoulder to where Caroline watched from the window, Darcy winked and pulled Elizabeth toward him just close enough to drop a quick kiss on her lips. “He could always use more practice.”
~*~*~
“What do you think?” Fred asked peering over Whit’s shoulder as they scanned the columns of numbers in the household accounts.
“He is an excellent manager,” said Whit, scratching a few more numbers onto his paper. “Rosemoore is solvent and flourishing.” He slipped the paper into his pocket as he heard someone approaching. “And that is the sort of work I hope that my wife will do. I expect I will have to check the accounts for accuracy and settle the bills, but she will keep them.” He nodded to Nicholas and placed the book back on the shelf where they had found it.
“Did you go through them all?” Nicholas asked, taking off his jacket and tossing it into a chair near the window. “I thought you intended to call at Longbourn.”
Whit looked out the window. “Blast, that took longer than I expected. I suppose it would not be the thing to call at this hour?”
Nicholas’s brows rose, and he gave Whit a look of disbelief. “How did you find my work?”
“Well-organized and impressively thorough,” replied Whit, taking a seat near Fred.
“I found it confusing,” admitted Fred. “Father never showed me any of those.”
“Father found them confusing,” said Nicholas, dropping into his chair with a glass of brandy in his hand. He tipped his head toward the decanter. “Help yourselves, but only in small doses.” He held up two fingers indicating the limit. “That is to last me another week.”
“Is everything rationed?” asked Fred as he carefully measured out the allotted amount of beverage.
Nicholas chuckled. “No, just a few things such as that brandy. It is not the cheap stuff, but rather a small indulgence that allows me to post Father’s bills with some semblance of composure.” At the moment the burning of the liquid as it slid down his throat was to help him deal not only with his brother and Whit and whatever scheme they were about, but it was also intended to dull the pang of guilt he felt over having offended Mary.
“Running an estate seems more involved than I imagined,” said Fred.
“It is work.” Nicholas gave his brother an inquisitive look. “Why are you finally interested in finances?”
“Women,” said Whit. “How much do you suppose the expenses of a wife might run? There are dresses, hats, fripperies and the like. Not to mention food and parties. Certainly, a gentleman would have more callers once there is a lady to entertain the guests, would he not?”
Nicholas nodded. “And children. You mustn’t forget that children are a hazard of certain privileges of marriage.” He leveled his brother with a stern stare.
“I am not a rake,” muttered Fred.
Whit shrugged. “I might become one if I cannot find an acceptable wife.”
Nicholas shook his head. “Neither of you are ready to take a wife.”
“Are you?” Whit asked over the rim of his glass. “What would be the cost of such a venture?”
“About half the amount I send to Bath.” Nicholas emptied his glass and placed it on his desk. “So, no, I am not.”
Whit shrugged. “It seems you have sufficient to spend that amount.”
“Until a crop does not do well, or Father decides a new mount is needed to parade about town.”
Whit nodded. “So greater reserves are needed?” He also placed an empty glass on the desk. “Six months worth would you say?”
Nicholas blinked and nodded. He had not expected such an astute question from a friend of his brother. “As I am certain you know, I have two-thirds that amount at present. Another season or two without any catastrophes from any quarter and I might be able to consider a bride.” He must remember to not drink brandy until all sources of annoyance had left his study next time, for apparently, the comforting liquid loosened his tongue.
“What if we,” Whit motioned between himself and Fred, “were to assist you? Earn a bit to add to the coffers? Would you look for a wife if you had five months in reserve?” Whit held up a hand. “Fred will keep his expenses low, and if we earn a bit of blunt, we will donate it to your cause.”
“Why would you do that? Not that I am opposed to Fred learning to manage his expenses or the idea of a wife, but why should you care if either of those things ever happen?”
Whit stood and moved behind his chair ready to take his leave. “Rosemoore is dull, and you are rather irascible. The right woman could cure both before there is no hope of a recovery. One Mr. Halward is enough for Hertfordshire, and you are well on your way to becoming every bit as miserable.” Whit bowed and with a nod of his head for Fred to follow, left the room.
“Grab some coins and your great coat,” whispered Whit as they moved down the hall. “Wickham will be playing cards tonight, and he is an easy mark. I dare say, we can double our money and then arrange for a bigger event where we could win more — that is if you are up to riding against Wickham.”
Fred paused to consider the thought. “But if we lose?”
“That will not happen. Aside from your brother, you are the best rider I have seen. However, if needed, I will write to my father to cover the expense and take my chances with being sent to sea.” He grabbed Fred by the shoulders. “But, that will not happen, for we will not lose — although, tonight, you will lose. We must make Wickham think he has a chance against you. A friendly ride out after the game with a small wager, and then we beg him to let us attempt to win it back — along with additional money from his friends.” Whit slapped Fred on the back. “If not for that lad carrying the milk, the scheme would have worked on Allston.” He chuckled. “Actually, it did work. We just were not allowed to collect, but this time, there will be no lad with milk and no Mr. Frohock to keep us from our winnings and your brother from marrying.”