His eyebrows quivered for a moment. “Very specific, that one. It says ...”
“I do know what it says, Mr.Brainerd, but what does itmean?”
“Right, right. It’s a small thing, really. Lady Sherbourne’s fiduciary accounts and the tenants’ leases will only be released upon occasion of your marriage, which must occur within three months of your arrival, else your claim to the estate shall be rendered null and void. It’s a rather sizable amount. Shall I convert the numbers for you?”
Eliza pushed two fingers to her temple. Monty whined in sympathy. “No, that’s quite all right.” She understood the amounts well enough. She’d be a millionaire by American standards.Ifshe married. And to think two days ago England had represented freedom! Her daydreams of living out her days as a moneyed spinster were dissolving as fast as spun sugar on her tongue.
It wasn’t that Eliza was opposed to love. Shehadloved. Twice. First there was Giselle—the buxom daughter of one of Maman’s church friends, who came each Tuesday afternoon to teach Eliza the harp. The lessons were eagerly anticipated but gradually grew shorter, the music replaced by whispered secrets and stolen kisses behind the potted palms, until finally the harp no longer sounded from the front parlor at all.We needn’t have Giselle any longer,Maman had said with a tone of finality.You’ve grown quite proficient at the harp. So proficient you never play.
A frenzy of wealthy suitors came courting soon after, but in her heartbreak, Eliza had snubbed every Creole planter her parents offered up, each one just as boring as the last. There was no man who could provide the easy companionship she’d had with Giselle.
Until Jacob—her father’s new groom. He was a quiet young man with a lisp and gray-green eyes, sensitive and kindhearted, who came to her aid one day after she fell from her horse into a stand of stinging nettle and read to her from Keats to keep her from clawing at her welted skin. She’d kissed him once on impulse, and he’d returned her ardor. They’d enjoyed weeks of bliss, until the day Maman discovered their secret trysting. Eliza put a hand to her cheek, remembering her mother’s stinging slap and the fierce set of her fine, French jaw as shepulled Eliza from Jacob’s bed.Putain! Tumbling with a common groom. Who will want you now?
After Jacob left Anaquitas Farm, no more fine Creole suitors came to call, and Eliza had shut herself away like a fallen saint awaiting martyrdom.
“I can see by your expression you’re upset,” Mr.Brainerd said, pulling her sharply from her thoughts. “Please understand, Miss Sullivan, your aunt only wanted to ensure the continued upkeep of her loyal tenants and her household in the event of her death. Lady Sherbourne was afraid, with your being American, that you’d come over, sell the house, collect the money, and then leave. And single womendotend to struggle with managing property on their own. It’s highly irregular. A lovely young woman such as yourself will have no issue attracting suitors. Find a husband and Sherbourne House and the fortune attached to it shall be yours in perpetuity.”
“I understand. But won’t my property default to my husband if I marry? Isn’t that the law?”
The old man shuffled the papers on his desk. “Yes, well. Thatwasthe old doctrine of coverture. It’s still that way in America, I believe, but this is where you are fortunate to be in England. Due to the Women’s Property Act, the title to Sherbourne House will have your name listed alongside your future husband’s.”
“And yet, if I decided to lease the property or sell it, I’d need his permission to do so. Unless I become a widow like my aunt, of course.” Eliza gave a sharp laugh. “It seems falling into widowhood is the only way a woman is guaranteed her full rights.”
“Gracious. That’s a rather dire way of looking at things.” Mr.Brainerd coughed, a rattle at the back of his throat. “There are several bachelors of quality here in Hampshire. Why, the Earl of Eastleigh is looking for a wife, even. You could end up a countess. That wouldn’t be so terrible, would it?”
Eliza’s curiosity pushed through the wall of her frustration. “And what of my neighbor? Lord Havenwood? Isn’t he a bachelor as well?”
Mr.Brainerd’s face collapsed. “Oh. That one. He’s certainly single, but I’d not ... well. Let’s just say there are much better prospects for you.”
Eliza gave an exasperated sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I was hoping to start again. To build a business here. I wasn’t keen to marry, at least not right away. Only three months to find a husband! Bit of a rush, isn’t it?”
“Well, Lady Sherbournewasan eccentric, but I’m certain she had her reasons for the clause.” Mr.Brainerd stood, extending his hand. Monty padded to his master, his tail beating a constant rhythm. “Your aunt was very clear about the matter, but you do have choices, my dear. You could always go back to America if you find the terms do not suit. The estate will revert to the Crown, of course. Shame to let that happen.”
Eliza shook her head. No. Going back to New Orleans was not an option. There was nothing for her there but painful memories, old suitors, and shame. Eliza pulled on her gloves and followed the solicitor and his dog to the door, her brows pulled together in irritation.
“Chin up, darling,” Mr.Brainerd said, taking her hand. “Being married is no curse. My Myrtle and I have enjoyed well over thirty years together. With your charms, you’ll have the pick of the litter here in Hampshire, to be sure.”
CHAPTER 4
“Lyddie, I’m worried.” Eliza patted her upswept hair in the mirror as Lydia tightened her corset.
“Whatever for? You know that’s my job.”
“Do you suppose the men of Hampshire have heard the extent of Theodora’s fortune? Polly seems quite the gossip.”
“They’d only know about the estate, wouldn’t they?” Lydia cast an eye toward the worn furniture in Eliza’s room. “It’s apparent your aunt livedwellbelow her means.”
“Yes, but we aren’t poor yet. Even without her bequest.” Eliza’s hand hovered over the necklace resting against her clavicle—three pear-shaped diamonds surrounded by pearls. It had been her mother’s wedding gift from her father—a sparkling remnant of a time when money had been of little concern.
“They’ll find out about the money eventually, won’t they, Liza? The right man would marry you even if you were penniless.”
“That’s just the thing. With all the other rich Americans coming over to snatch up the bachelors in recent years, we won’t make fast friends with the local girls. They’ll see us as dollar princesses.”
“Sarah seems genuine. At least she seemed to be at tea.”
“Sarah’s already married. We’re no rivals for her.” Eliza huffed as Lydia tightened the final laces of the longline formal corset she hadn’t hadoccasion to wear in years—a corset that was now two sizes too small for her burgeoning waist. Too much cream in her coffee and too little care to how her clothes fit. “Can you pull it tighter, sister? I’ve gained a few pounds.” Lydia placed her knee against Eliza’s back and tugged, drawing her waist in sharply and making the rounded tops of her pale bosom swell.
“I’m not so sure about Polly, though.” Lydia frowned. “Did you see the way she looked at me when she found out I went by a different surname? She nearly gave herself a headache trying to puzzle it out.”
