And he was almost penniless.
∞∞∞
A week after the reading of the will, the Earl of Matlock finally arrived.
Darcy was in the middle of cataloging paintings when the butler announced him.
The drawing room looked more like an auction house than the London residence of an ancient family. Paintings leaned against walls awaiting valuation. Several marble busts stood grouped together near the windows. Furniture inventories covered nearly every available surface.
Darcy looked up from his ledger just as the earl entered.
Lord Matlock had aged considerably since Darcy last saw him. Gray now dominated the dark Fitzwilliam hair, and lines of responsibility marked his face, but his carriage remained erect and commanding. He crossed the room immediately and clasped Darcy's shoulder.
“Fitzwilliam.”
The use of his Christian name felt strangely comforting.
“My lord.”
The earl studied him carefully. “You look exhausted.”
Darcy almost laughed. “I am.”
Lord Matlock's expression softened briefly before he looked around the room. “I came as soon as I was able.”
His gaze settled upon the stacks of furniture. “Though plainly not soon enough.”
Darcy motioned him toward a chair.
The earl sat heavily.
“There was a fire at Matlock,” he explained. “Nothing catastrophic, thank God, but enough to occupy my attention for weeks. Then Parliament resumed, and by the time word finally reached me regarding George...” He shook his head. “I should have come sooner.”
Darcy did not blame him. The past month had taught him how quickly one crisis could consume all available time and energy.
“I understand.”
The earl's eyes moved again over the room. “What precisely is all this?”
Darcy followed his gaze. “Inventory.”
“Inventory of what?”
“What can be sold.”
The older man's brows rose. “Everything?”
“Not quite.” Darcy closed the ledger before him. “Though a surprising amount.”
The earl leaned back slowly. “Tell me the truth.”
Darcy hesitated only briefly; then he did.
He explained the debts. The empty tenant homes. The neglected repairs. The status of the estate. The dwindling reserves, and the money already paid out.
As he spoke, Lord Matlock's expression grew steadily grimmer. By the end, he sat staring silently into the fire. At last he shook his head.
“Good God.”
