Still no reply from Mr. Howlett, and that silence had become a living thing, whispering at the edges of his mind even when he ought to be enjoying the feast. Mr. Canfield clapped him on the shoulder, making some jest about an upcoming horse race, and Frederick smiled automatically (even managing a bland response) whilst his attention lingered on the letters, and the gnawing suspicion that grew with each passing day.
Every household expense was now measured and weighed, and yet Dunsby Hall bled money faster than Frederick could stem the flow. Of course, three weeks was hardly a blink; it would take time for the accounts to feel the full effect ofretrenchment. And everything rested upon Mr. Howlett and that final investment.
The fellows nodded toward some revelry that was about to commence, and Frederick waved them off, quite happy to see them drift away; he wasn’t good company at present, and pretending required too much effort at present.
But Mr. Devins lingered, glancing at him with a quizzical expression.
“Did you wish to speak to me?” asked his friend.
Straightening, Frederick glanced about, only just noticing how odd their positioning was, especially given that he’d made no move to leave after the group dispersed. Mouth agape, Frederick tried to think of something to say that would excuse his unusual behavior.
“You seem quite out of sorts lately,” said Devins, his words coming carefully as though tiptoeing toward what he wished to say.
“I have much on my mind.”
Devins nodded. “Understandable. Though I am blessed to have a father who is hearty and hale, watching him lose Grandfather was difficult. Of course, I missed him as well, but it isn’t the same as losing one’s own father, is it?”
Forcing a smile, Frederick waved it away. “I am managing. I will sort things out in the end.”
The fellow glanced about before stepping closer and lowering his voice. “Do not fret about any…difficultiesright now. Many a family and estate have struggled after the loss of its master, and a little faltering is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Difficulties?” Frederick straightened.
Holding up his hands, Devins winced. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to presume. None of us knows what to say to you. English pride and all that. We’d rather ignore problems rather than riskspeaking of money, though I do not understand why it’s treated like the plague. It isn’t catching.”
“Money? Who is speaking of money?”
“I didn’t mean to offend—”
“Not at all,” said Frederick, stepping closer when the fellow tried to put space between them. “For all that you claim to be speaking plainly, you are quite cryptic.”
Devins drew in a deep breath and cast another look round about. “You sacked some of your staff with no indication that you mean to replace them, and your mother has hardly been seen on the high street over the past fortnight. Not to mention some rumblings about unpaid bills amongst the tradesmen.”
Frederick’s brows rose at that. Though most businesses were good enough to keep information about their clientele private, there was no accounting for the various clerks, maids, and laborers who heard far more than was good and felt no compunctions about spreading the gossip far and wide. The truth was bound to come out sooner or later. He simply had hoped it would bemorelater.
“Oh, there’s no need to look stricken,” said Devins with a faint grimace. “Living on credit is the way of things, especially amongst grand families like yours. Sir Thomas refuses to settle bills until the tradesmen are prepared to go to court over the matter, as though it were beneath him to pay in a timely manner.”
With a considering frown, he added, “I wager few families have the ready funds to pay all their bills if they came due all at once, and as the courts take ages to settle such matters, we hardly have the incentive to pay promptly, so there’s no need to worry. It is the way of things.”
Giving Frederick a clap on the shoulder, Devins wandered away with a bright smile as though he had just delivered his friend’s salvation, tossing a lifeline out to a drowning sailor.
The way of things?The words clung to him like burrs, sharp and persistent.
If Devins were to be believed, everyone lived on borrowed coin and borrowed time—gentry and tradesmen alike—each pretending prosperity while their foundations quietly crumbled. Frederick had heard enough sly remarks and caught enough half-glances to suspect that his friend’s admission was true. To a degree, at any rate.
Yet the thought unsettled him. If the whole of society did it, did that render it acceptable? And was it truly wrong, or merely an unavoidable consequence of an imperfect world?
Laughter rose and fell around him, bright and unburdened, a sound that ought to have lifted his spirits but only made the heaviness in his chest more pronounced. The music from the fiddlers was lively, and the scent of roasted meat still hung sweet in the air, but the joy of it all felt distant, as though it belonged to some other world entirely.
Young men tested their aim at the ring toss and shouted with triumph when a wooden hoop landed true, and somewhere near the churchyard wall, a group of lads were wrestling in the grass, cheered on by a circle of spectators who seemed to find every tumble hilarious. Even the elders, gathered near the tables, smiled as they sipped their ale (which the good Sir Thomas had supplied), and watched the merriment unfold.
Frederick drifted through it like a dream. A few acquaintances hailed him—one calling him over to try his hand at skittles, another waving a tankard in invitation—but he answered only with a nod and continued walking.
Near the edge of the green stood a makeshift stage, though it was little more than a patch of grass bordered by planks. Children clustered at the front, their faces bright with anticipation, while the grown folk lingered behind, settling in to enjoy the entertainment with matching eagerness.
Frederick paused, half aware of it all, his thoughts circling until they inevitably returned toher. Perhaps it was time to speak to Thea. If what Devins said was true, what harm was there in admitting his troubles aloud? Gossip would come soon enough; better that she hear it from him.
The thought brought a flicker of relief, small but real, and he found himself scouring the sea of faces for her bright bonnet. Spying Miss Ashbrook, Frederick pointed his feet in her direction as Thea was never far from her cousin—yet as he drew closer, there was no sign of her.
