Surely, Frederick wouldn’t be the last of the line to inhabit it.
That thought brought forth a spike of worry that shot through him like a bolt of lightning, sizzling beneath his skin and piercing his very bones. Frederick could not see Dunsby Hall fall. He would not allow this to be his mark upon the family history. Whatever the origin of these troubles, he was master now, and he would see them resolved. The investment would pay out, retrenching would set them on a firmer footing, and one day his children would run these halls.
A hand on his shoulder gave him a start, and he spun around to find Mother standing there. Her brows rose, the familiar Voss smile gracing her lips as she suppressed a laugh.
“You forgot I was here,” she said. “You have too much on your mind, my boy. It isn’t good for you.”
“There is nothing I can do about that,” he replied. “This is my inheritance and my responsibility.”
“Nonsense,” said Mother, her handkerchief fluttering about as she gestured with her hands. “This is our home, and we shan’t lose it. There’s no good to be had in dwelling in such unpleasantness, so you needn’t fret so much.”
Though something inside him warned him against it, he dragged in a breath, forcing it past the tightness in his chest as he pressed the worries down where they could not pester him. They were thoughts for later. Not now.
“Besides, I think you are making a fuss over nothing,” said Mother.
Brows rising, Frederick leveled his gaze on her. “I assure you, this is a serious situation.”
Another flap of the handkerchief, and Mother waved it away. Again. “Not that. You look so deathly serious that it must be troublesome. However, you are forgetting that a clear solution is standing right before you.”
But Mother was the only thing there at present, and she was not the answer to this quandary. In any fashion.
Laughing, the lady shook her head. “Not me. Miss Keats.”
Frederick blinked at that, and Mother slipped her arm through his as they turned to look out the window.
“With the investment paying off and her dowry added to our coffers, there is no need to economize. No doubt her funds would cover the rest of any…” The lady hesitated a moment before adding in a hasty breath, as though speaking the wordquickly would brush aside the implications, “…anydebtswe’ve accumulated.”
Jerking out of her hold, Frederick turned to face her. “A dowry is intended to provide for a man’s daughter for the rest of her life. No matter that her property becomes her husband’s when she marries, it is intended forherusage—not to save his family from themselves.”
Mother huffed a laugh at that. “Nonsense. If you marry her, your troubles and hers become one and the same, so using her dowry would clean the slate and start your married life on the right foot.”
“Lies are hardly the right foot.”
“I said nothing about lying,” said Mother, frowning.
“So I should tell her of our reduced circumstances?” asked Frederick, fully knowing what her answer would be.
“Don’t be a ninny,” she said with a sharp huff. “This is the way of the world, and there is no reason we cannot profit from it. You both yearn for this match, so you wouldn’t be tricking her. You simply wouldn’t be broaching a conversation that is entirely inappropriate to have. Who speaks of finances and income to a sweetheart? The notion!”
Slipping her arm through his once more, she turned him to the window, and they gazed out on the vibrant fields. The new spring growth and fresh rain made the green different than any other one could find in nature. There was life and light within it. As if it were making amends for all the gloomy winter and spring months when the sun refused to peek from behind the thick clouds.
“There is nothing wrong with you taking advantage of the situation,” said Mother in a low voice. “Miss Keats’ dowry didn’t factor into your decision to pursue her in the first place, and it shan’t be the reason you move forward with this union, so why should you feel ill at ease? Husband and wife are meant to bea boon to one another, and this is just another blessing she can grant you—just as our long family legacy will allow the Keats to further distance themselves from her grandfather’s lowly beginnings.”
He said nothing at first, letting his mother’s words hang between them as his gaze drifted over the bright, rain-fed fields.
There was a certain logic to the argument—cold, practical, and not without merit. Money had not factored into the match, and were the roles reversed, Frederick would not begrudge Thea entering the union without a farthing. If it meant that he and Thea could be together, what harm was there in allowing her to mend his father’s folly?
Chapter 10
The church bells rang bright and unrestrained, their peals tumbling across the rooftops and carrying far beyond the village boundary. The joyous sound echoed through the clear spring sky as the congregation poured from the church doors in a cheerful press of voices and color, the sun glinting off the gilt edges of prayer books hastily tucked beneath arms.
Moving to a clear patch of the churchyard, the curate settled in to bless the tools for the forthcoming planting and harvest, and the farmers and laborers lined up with their ploughs, spades, and scythes along the edge of the green, the metal and wood polished to a humble shine. The clergyman moved among them with measured steps, his voice rising over the murmur of the crowd as he prayed for fruitful fields, gentle weather, and steady hands in the work to come.
When the final blessing was spoken, a cheer broke out as the bells renewed their joyful song.
The festivities couldn’t be contained solely within the churchyard itself, and the revelers made good use of the adjacent village green, setting up long tables across the grass with strings of bunting flapping in the breeze. Beneath the spreading elms, a fiddler struck up a tune, his bow keeping lively time while theair filled with the lingering scent of spring rain, sweet herbs, and roasting joints, whilst the village pulsed with life and light.
“Haverford certainly adores celebrations,” said Mina, standing beside Thea as they watched the revelries begin in earnest. “I arrived only a few weeks ago, and yet, we’ve had the Spring Market, May Day, and now, a parish feast.”
