Theo had cut her off. “It’s all right, Mrs. Ford,” he’d said, his tone reassuring. “I know.”
“Oh, good,” she’d said, her expression relieved. And that was that. She hadn’t raised the subject again. But in the days that followed, Theo had noticed her, and Martin too, eyeing him carefully at breakfast and dinner. And perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. He wasn’t just quieter; he was thoroughly subdued.
One evening, after another painfully quiet dinner, Martin appeared in the doorway of the parlour where Theo brooded most nights. “May I speak with you?”
“What about?” The words were abrupt, rude even, but even as he asked the question, Theo got to his feet and crossed the room to take Martin’s arm, guiding him towards an armchair.
“Thank you,” Martin said, sighing gratefully as he sank into the chair. “It’s about what you told us earlier. About Mr. Asquith—his lordship I should say, I suppose.” He made a face, not much liking that moniker, which made Theo smile despite himself.
That afternoon, Theo had sat Martin and Mrs. Ford down and done as George had asked.
“Tell them that, should they ever need help, they should write first to me and I will see them right.”
So he had, explaining that George was the heir to the Duke of Avesbury, rather than the mere Mr. Asquith he had introduced himself as. It had been obvious from Mrs. Ford’s reaction that she already knew this—had probably known for weeks given that letters had arrived for George, presumably using his courtesy title. But, ever discreet, she’d said nothing.
Even this afternoon, all she’d said was, “Will we need his help, Mr. Caldwell?”
Her voice had been as calm as always, but her hands were twisted anxiously in the folds of her apron, and Theo had felt ashamed. He’d bumbled something about hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but that if it did, she mustn’t worry. He hadn’t hesitated to give that assurance at least—he trusted George more than any other person in this world to keep his word.
Even then, though, he’d known that was never going to be the end of the conversation. And sure enough, here was Martin to get more details out of him.
“Shall we have a brandy?” Theo said. “Are you allowed?”
Martin’s gaze brightened. “A nip of brandy would be very nice. The doctor would probably say no, but he’s not here.”
Theo didn’t argue with him. He crossed to the sideboard and poured the remains of the brandy in the decanter into two glasses, a couple of generous measures each. He handed one to Martin, making sure to place it in his steadier left hand.
“So,” he said. “What did you want to talk about?”
Martin sipped his brandy, seeming to consider what to say. At last he said, “Mrs. Ford and I had gained the impression over the last few weeks that you were minded to stay at Blackfriars, and keep things as they are. So, it was a bit of a shock when you told us Mr. Asquith felt the need to give us this… guarantee.” He gazed at Theo, his expression troubled. “Are you intending to give Blackfriars up? Sell it off?”
Theo closed his eyes, assailed by a deep, visceral sense of shame. He’d let these people down. From the moment he’d learned of his uncle’s bequest, he’d only thought of this place in terms of its capital value. Until recently, he hadn’t even considered that he might owe something back.
“I don’t want to,” he said honestly. “But unfortunately, I don’t have any money. The bequest I received from my grandmother—” He broke off, conscious of the heat in his face as shame swamped him. “It’s gone. I spent every penny before I ever came here.”
Martin was quiet for a few moments. “I see.” He didn’t look especially surprised. For a while, they sat in silence. Then Martin said, “I have savings.”
Warily, Theo replied, “Yes, I remember.”
“Stephen wanted to know I’d be secure, if he passed before me.”
“I can understand that,” Theo said. “I’m sure it would have helped him to know that you’d have that security.”
Martin leaned forward and patted Theo’s knee. “As I’ve said before, you are very like him.” His eyes gleamed in the candlelight with the sheen of tears. After a moment, he leaned back into his chair and added, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I’ve come to a decision. I want to make you a proposition.”
Theo frowned. “A proposition?”
“If you agree to stay on at Blackfriars,” Martin said, “I’ll buy my land from you. I know what it’s worth, and, with what I’d pay you, you’d have enough to deal with the roof of the main house and the labourers’ cottages—those are the most pressing repairs. Should pay wages too for a while.”
Theo stared at him, stunned. At last he said, “If you want your farm, I’ll sign it over to you tomorrow, no payment required. You know my uncle wanted you to have everything.”
Martin shook his head. “It’s not that I want to own the farm. It’s that… I want to protect Blackfriars. Or at least help you do that.” He paused. “It’s not just money I’m offering you. I’m getting stronger every day. Soon enough I’ll be back to work. If you stay, I can help you with managing the farm and estate and planning ahead for what needs to be done.”
Theo stared at him, struck dumb by the generosity and unexpectedness of this offer. At last he managed to choke out, “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything yet,” Martin replied evenly, taking another sip of his brandy. “I’m sure you’ll want to think it over. It will be a lot of work for you if you stay, make no mistake, and a great commitment. It would be far easier for you to sell up, and I’ll understand if that’s what you choose to do. But if you're willing to take this on, then… I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”
“This is a very generous offer,” Theo whispered. “You could retire to some comfortable little cottage and live off your savings in ease. You can’t want to stay here instead, working all your days?”
