An understatement. Over the years, he had gifted Stella with jewelry suites worth hundreds of pounds, usually paid for by his winnings at cards. He would put those stones—now tucked in a cloth bag under his arm—to a more beneficial use. “But if you wish to keep some of her gowns for yourself”—Clara opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke over her—“or tosell,perhaps to her modiste—”
“Oh.” This time Clara’s rounded gasp revealed her recognition of his meaning. “Oh!”
“They might bring enough to provide you with a bit of a nest egg for the future.”
“Oh, my lord!”
Mark, not entirely sure if she meant him or God in heaven, chose the former. “Can you read?”
She nodded fervently, the brown curls around the edge of her cap bouncing. “Mama taught me because she thought it might help me find a good place.”
Wise mama.“Good. You will be senior housemaid, and you will work with Cook on running the household. If all goes well—if you prove yourself—I will make you the housekeeper. I will give you a letter tomorrow, stating my permission for you to sell the gowns and anything else. Definitely speak with her modiste on the gowns. I’m sure she could help you find buyers if she does not want them herself.”
Mark paused, took a deep breath, and checked his pocket watch. Though he was well on his way to healing, Mark still needed to rest frequently, and he had acquiesced to his mother’srequest to accompany her to another blasted ball tonight. He needed to get home. “It is almost time. The first people will arrive in half an hour to begin work on Miss Ashley’s rooms. Let them in, serve them tea and supper, but keep an eye on them so they do not walk off with the silver. Go now and collect what you wish to keep or sell and tuck it away in your room. I will be back tomorrow afternoon.”
Clara curtsied and fled up the stairs, looking happier than Mark had ever seen her. Stella had been a rather harsh employer, but Mark had tried to keep such thoughts to himself, since he did not live under the same roof. He was certain Clara expected the same from him, but she would soon find his attitude toward staff to be vastly different. Matthew declared their time in the military had changed them both in that regard. While they had been commissioned officers, they still served under others’ commands and fought alongside all ranks of men. The closeness had given them a new perspective, and neither had quite returned to the view that those in service deserved little consideration.
Upstairs, a squeal burst from Clara, and Mark chuckled as he left the house and returned to the waiting carriage. Even with the aid of his cane, Mark needed the strength of his footman to enter the conveyance, sinking back against the squabs with a wince and a sigh. He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe perspiration, brought on by the pain, from his face. No dancing tonight. And as much as he hated lingering abed, a rest would be good, readying him for another night of vapid chatter and weak lemonade.
Unless, of course, Judith attended as well. That thought improved his mood, and his mouth twisted into his usual smirk as the horses jerked the carriage into motion.
Chapter Ten
Friday, 22 July 1814
Reddington Hall, Mayfair
Half-past ten in the evening
Judith danced heranger, giving no quarter to awkward young gentlemen, and snipped so soundly at one young lord during their first few steps that he had remained silent the rest of the dance. After the last bow, he scurried back to friends with a terrified look over his shoulder. Perry, who had approached for what he called a “farewell reel,” retreated with a similar look when she reminded him that she did not dance with men who had other attachments. Looking more like a wide-eyed pup than usual, he returned with haste to his new beloved and her scowling mother.
Judith did not care. Other men remained to dance, some even eager to match her energy if not her mood. A mood built of frustration and fury—with men, with theton, with herself, with people in general. A wrath that threatened to consume her.
How could Edmund have been such a fool! How could I have!
She had been enraged for almost four straight days, since her confrontation with Edmund at Tuesday’s supper, barely sleeping and struggling to keep from turning her anger on the servants, who had hidden the reality of their situation from her. But themshe could forgive; they had done so in an attempt to protect her. Edmund had done so to deceive her.
But faced with her outright statements about the signs their money had drained away, he had collapsed under her furious accusations, confessing that a series of gambling debts and fraudulent investments—including a heftily financed partnership in a Triangular Trade shipping company that proceeded to have three ships sink in the North Atlantic—had turned a legacy of financial soundness into an estate in tatters.In two years!The bottom line was that the burden of being an earl simply had been too much, and his unskilled attempts to outshine his father had pushed the family close to ruin.
In the end, Judith blamed herself. She had been so lost after her husband died she had been relieved to hand the estate over, not realizing that she herself had thrived at her stepson’s age precisely because her experienced and gallant husband had been beside her. And her mother-in-law. And a wise housekeeper. Upon her marriage, Judith had been gifted with mentors, guidance, and help. But she had thrust all the duties at Edmund and Margaret without any advice or recommendations, blithely accepting that they neither desired nor needed her aid.
But she included them in her wrath as well. They had been prideful, even in the face of a downfall. They had rejected offers of help from the estate’s stewards, land managers, and their man of business when those professionals recognized what was happening. And at even a mild suggestion that she could use some help, Margaret had puffed up, lording her position over the housekeeper and the staff, insisting that she knew best.
After her initial burst of rage, Judith had merely said, “Show me the accounts and let us get to work.”
And they had, the three of them meeting with the people who could help them in a steady stream of appointments—encounters fueled by Judith’s ire, which flared when eitherEdmund or Margaret complained of being tired, or in Margaret’s case, bored. The boredom comment had provoked a tantrum in Judith that left Margaret sobbing in her bedchamber for a full day. As their examination of the estate turned up lie after lie, Judith’s mood continued to sour.
She knew she had no real power to do anything—the title and estate were fully Edmund’s, and he could do as he wished with them. They all knew it. But she had landed on them like a hawk in full attack—wings flared and talons extended—and they had caved beneath her knowledge, her determination, and their own panic at a future with no income.
Harsh steps had already been taken. Margaret’s allowance and clothing budget had been slashed, and Judith had surrendered part of her widow’s portions to the estate in order to pay off some of the most immediate debts. They partitioned off two of the tenancy farms from their country estate to sell to a neighboring baron, as well as scheduling more of the artwork and furniture from the country house to be put to auction. Judith put a halt to the sale of their livestock, however. A breeding herd was an investment with great potential returns. Besides, she despised Whitlow and would rather starve than see her beloved horses go to him.
Other investments were turned over to their man of business for the next few months, and Judith and the housekeeper had reclaimed the household expenses, with the promise to train Margaret in how to best manage them—which did not include the younger woman’s obsession with sugar and the finest teas, wines, and meats. They would recover, but it would be a long and difficult journey.
Now Judith turned her attention to those who had led Edmund down this path; they would face confrontation, as well as a demand for restitution.
Starting tonight.
Judith had searched for her prey all evening, finally spotting Mark Rydell—and his mother—when they entered the room a few moments after ten. Finding them only after so many fast and furious dances was probably fortunate for all three, as some of her anger had abated under the expenditure of energy. Yet she still fought the urge to march directly to them, skirmish in mind. That would be inadvisable in more than a few ways, including one that could leave her vulnerable—she no longer trusted Edmund to be completely truthful with her. He had hidden so much, lied so much to cover his failings that Judith had lost faith in his ability to be honest on any level. She had their account books to verify much of what he had told her—foolish investments, drained coffers—but nothing to back up his claims of who had lured and encouraged him to take such a dark path.
