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Story: A Gentleman’s Reckoning (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #3)
Chapter Fifteen
T he day after the opera, John spent a rare morning at home in his rented lodgings in Chelsea. He had not bothered to attend service since he had been ousted from society, except when he was in Surrey away from prying eyes. So he had nothing to do except think through the events of the night before. He reminded himself that the fact that he was at the opera could hardly unmask him, for he was sitting in the pit where people of his supposed status would be.
He had decided to risk attending the opera because he was a fan of Mozart’s work. The temptation to hear an opera that had not graced the English stage for so many years was very great, and he could not resist it. Of course he did not purchase a seat in an area where he might be discovered, even though he still bore the risk that some of his former friends might cut through the pit on their way to visit the opera dancers during the intermissions.
He had suspected that Lady Geny would be at the opera that night, and she was. She sat in the box with her father and an older, nondescript woman whom he guessed to be her companion. As he looked up at the stretch of box seats, he easily found her in the crowd and watched from the shadows as her father left during the intermission. His eyes were drawn to her so magnetically, he found it astonishing that he did not know her when he mingled in society. Surely such a woman would have captured his eye.
A man he did not recognize, but who appeared to be a leader of society, entered the box and settled his attention on Geny. It had not been wise to fix his gaze upon her so steadily, for of course she should catch his eye once she chanced to look down upon the crowd in the pit. It had not been John’s intention to be discovered, but he froze in place when recognition dawned on her face. If he was not mistaken, she had jumped in surprise, for she had immediately to answer to the gentleman in her box and—he supposed—explain what had caused the alarm.
John, who had been circumspect in his regard when Lord Goodwin was in place, could not help but keep his eyes on Lady Geny during that conversation although he moved farther from sight. It was jealousy that caused him to do so, which was stupid. He himself had told her that nothing could come of the attachment they had for each other, despite having shared a very memorable kiss. And although he still knew this to be true, it was a quandary he could not see his way out of. She would not refuse him even were he of low status—he knew it with a certainty. But she would most certainly refuse him if she knew he had tried to expose her father and was continuing to attempt it. Not only that, but that he was working in the orphanage under false pretenses.
Early in the afternoon, a knock came on the front door, and Owen went to answer it. As soon as John heard the visitor’s voice, he remembered that he had requested the solicitor to visit him on a Sunday, despite how irregular the practice was. He had explained that he was not at liberty to meet any other day of the week, which was mostly true. He stood, hoping he looked like a man who had been expecting the visitor he had invited .
“Come in, Mr. Wyndham. I apologize for making you work on a Sunday, and thank you for troubling to come to my lodging.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Aubin. It is of little trouble. My wife is away visiting her sister, so the house is empty.”
The solicitor drew out papers from the bag as he spoke. This alerted John to the fact that they would need to sit at the table, for he would have to sign them. It was a shame he had not sought a nicer and more spacious living quarters while he was staying in Chelsea, but he had not expected to spend much time in the place and had certainly not intended to receive anyone. He had preferred to save his money.
“Owen, bring us a bottle of claret, if you will. Please have a seat here, Mr. Wyndham.” John indicated the round table and took the seat across from him.
The solicitor sat and pushed the stack of papers toward him. “My visit need not take up much of your time, unless you have questions. Nothing has changed since the last time we spoke about the terms. This is just the formality needed to make it legal.”
John nodded and began to read the document. The solicitor leaned over and pointed to two clauses.
“As discussed, this clause states that if for some reason your brother succeeds in having an heir, you will set aside the living attached to Westerly. And if he should have more than one, you will settle three thousand pounds on each of his issue for their own private uses. Should there be any girls, they will each receive a dowry of two thousand pounds. These sums are held in trust.”
“Yes, of course. That needs no reflection.” He had only accepted the inheritance because Gregory told him they were medically unable to have children. He did not go into the details, and John did not ask, but nothing would stop him from showing every consideration to his niece or nephew should Gregory be so fortunate as to sire children.
He began to review the contract, although he knew the terms almost by heart. They had discussed this idea for two years before seeking to make it official.
“I am glad to hear you say it, Mr. Aubin. If you will permit me to say so, Mr. Gregory Aubin possesses a most generous nature. More often than not, I am called upon to arbitrate for siblings who are fighting over inheritances, even when the matter of who inherits should be a simple one. It destroys the bond between them.” Mr. Wyndham looked at him with kindly eyes. “It is refreshing to see brothers acting in so contrary a way, and brothers not even bound by blood.”
The praise should have brought him pleasure. Instead, John was seized with guilt over the way he had treated his brother in the past by living a wastrel existence far removed from Greg’s moral integrity. He lifted his eyes from the papers in front of him.
“I am well aware of my luck in being able to call Mr. Gregory Aubin my brother. I will do nothing to harm the relationship—with him or any of his children should he be so fortunate.”
Mr. Wyndham held up both of his hands, looking slightly alarmed. “I did not mean to imply that you would. Indeed, I did not.”
This caused the corner of John’s lips to tip upwards. “I did not think you were. It is only that I wished for someone else to bear testimony to my promise, for I intend to keep it.”
He read the documents through once more. There was nothing new, and it was left only for him to sign his name, which he did after he asked Owen to bring him the inkwell and pen. Then he proposed they drink a glass of claret together before the solicitor collected his belongings.
“I will leave this copy for you and will send one to your brother in Mossley. The third I will file. I am sure Mr. Gregory Aubin will be glad to know that this affair has been happily concluded, since this was his wish.”
John thanked him, still wrestling with his conscience for having so ill repaid his brother’s generosity with foolhardiness and deceit.
“I will send him a letter of my own as well to inform him that everything went forward as planned.” They bid farewell, and Owen showed the solicitor out.
John stood in his small sitting room, folded his arms, and looked around, dissatisfied. His life in those years since school had not been much different than that of many gentlemen, but that brought little solace. He had wasted his money on gambling and women and—were it not for his win from Barnsby—spent the entirety of the small inheritance he had received from his mother. He had not gone to visit his stepfather when he had first fallen ill and had only arrived after his death—a fact he could scarcely contemplate without being consumed by self-loathing. He scarcely paid heed to his brother’s attempts at closeness, except for fulfilling his promise to learn how to run the estate. But that had been self-serving. And yet, somehow, Greg had not come to detest him. Even his wife seemed to view John with undimmed affection. The remorse that he usually managed to keep at bay now bit at him.
Sobered by these reflections, John thought that there was no better time than the present to write to his brother. It would not be too soon.
Gregory—
I have just signed the legal documents for Westerly, and although any show of gratitude of mine will fall short of what I feel you deserve, I must attempt to express it anyway. I have wished to come and visit you and still hope to do so soon. I am staying in Chelsea at the moment, for I have found myself in a bit of a situation. My direction is in this letter should you wish to write to me here.
Please do not worry about me, and know that for once my troubles are not of my own making — at least it is not a result of my folly. But I prefer to explain it to you in person and promise to come as soon as I am able. In the meanwhile, I am compelled to send you a short letter to let you know that I am well, to thank you, and to send my affection both to you and to my dear sister, Anne.
Yours truly,
—John
The next day, John was in his office, with only Timothy sitting at his desk working on sums. Under John’s focused tutelage, he had grown more proficient at them, but he would never be at Gabriel’s level. However, John had no doubt that both had a bright future ahead of them and a more promising career than they might otherwise have, had they not landed in the asylum.
He glanced at the marble plaque that he had discovered hidden when the wall came down. It was astonishing that the falling stones had not broken it. He read the engraved names, taking more time to note the amounts associated with each one. It was in going through them methodically that he noticed, for the first time, Lord Hollingsworth’s name listed next to the amount of seven hundred fifty pounds.
After Timothy’s revelation about Gabriel being sponsored, he had eventually located the ledger from the year Gabriel arrived. Lord Hollingsworth’s gift was the exact sum of the anonymous donation that had gone to sponsor the boy. This detail caused him to speculate for the first time that perhaps Lord Hollingsworth knew the former Lady Goodwin more intimately than he had let on.
The more he thought about it, however, the more John had difficulty in crediting the notion. If the late Lady Goodwin was anything like her daughter, her integrity would be too pure to permit such a thing. He wondered if this might be a matter to bring before Lord Hollingsworth to try to get to the bottom of the misappropriation of funds. After all, Lord Hollingsworth’s name had not appeared in the early books either.
John looked up when he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching his door. Mr. Dowling appeared with the mason standing behind him.
“Mason Cook is here to repair the wall, although I told him that the damages are more extensive than when you first spoke of them.”
John had moved away from the marble plaque as soon as he had been aware of Mr. Dowling’s presence. He did not want him to be overly interested in its contents.
“Thank you. Let us go and examine it now.” He gestured to the mason, and also to Timothy, to follow him to the stable. As they crossed the courtyard, he elaborated on the damage.
“It is as the headmaster has said. A large part of the wall has crumbled, and this has created a hole between the chapel and the stable. It looks like the foundation will need to be strengthened. Is that something you can do?”
“I will need to see it,” the man replied.
John said nothing further until they were standing in front of the hole. The mason went over to pull one of the stones in the pile and finger the plaster that had attached it. He looked up at what was still holding the top of the wall in place and went over to the stones on the bottom, wiggling them to see how solid they were there. Then he stepped away, skirting the pile of stones.
“I can fix it, but I will need more help. It is too much of a job for one person.”
“I assumed as much. Can you give me an estimation of what you think it will cost to fix everything and repair the chapel wall from the inside as though it were new?”
The mason quoted a sum that caused John’s eyes to widen. No new donations had come to him recently, and the recurring ones were so small as to barely support the orphanage as it was. But this was not something that could wait.
“Find the men you will need and begin on the repairs as soon as you can,” he said. “I would like to have the work started as soon as possible so that we suffer no risk of anyone else getting hurt.”
John spun possibilities through his mind of how he might handle the budgeting for this. He would have to speak with Mr. Peyton and see if there were funds he was not aware of. It was difficult when he did not have full visibility on the donations coming in. He would manage to find the funds no matter what it took, even if it meant digging into his own savings.
“Very well, sir.” The mason looked at Timothy, who was a well-built lad and had shown his curiosity by following the mason around and watching his every movement. “Any interest in learning the trade?”
Timothy looked up at John with an eager light in his eyes, and John nodded his encouragement. “I give you leave to follow the mason while he is here, so you can learn all you can. We will resume your training when it’s over. In any case, it will give Gabriel more time to heal, so we don’t go too far in the lessons without him.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Grab a hold of this line here,” the mason said, without wasting any time. Timothy did so and began to help him measure the foundation that was still standing.
John left the mason to it, confident he knew what he was doing. Besides, the groom was there to answer any simple questions that might come, or fetch John to answer the more complex ones. As he exited the stable, a carriage rolled over the cobblestones into the courtyard, the iron gates closing behind it. John recognized the earl’s crest. For the first time, a frisson of dread shot through him as he imagined the earl himself stepping out of the carriage and seeing John there.
Fortunately, this did not transpire, and instead he saw the footman helping the delicate Lady Geny to alight. John knew it would be unreasonable to seek a private conversation, especially after what he had said to her in their last meeting when he attempted to put distance between them. He should walk the other way, but he could not help himself.
“How do you do, my lady?” He bowed before her. She turned with surprise at the sound of his voice, a flush of pink touching her cheeks, and a smile coming to her lips.
Another woman might have played games or treated him with coldness after the way he had acted, but Lady Geny was not cast from that mold.
“I am very well, I thank you. Has the mason begun the repairs yet?”
“He is in there now, taking measurements with an eager Timothy at hand to learn what he can of the trade.” John smiled, happy to be near her, though reason dictated he should stay away.
A look of satisfaction appeared on Lady Geny’s face. “Timothy will excel in whatever he does. He may not be academic, but as I said from the beginning, he is a very clever boy.”
John chuckled. “He is indeed clever. And he may even turn out to be more of an academic than either you or I suspected he would. Without Gabriel present for his lessons, he is applying himself most diligently and is learning fast.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Geny said, a fond look in her eyes. Then she brought those eyes to his.
Their gazes held until John realized that they were in public view and wrenched his eyes away. He could not resist attempting to gain more time in her company, try though as he might.
“Where are you going? I will walk with you, if you wish it. ”
Her maid had been speaking to the groom, but she now went into the carriage to pull out a wrapped bundle and brought it over to her mistress.
Lady Geny accepted it. “I was planning to bring these curtains to the classroom to see how they will look when hung.” She turned to the maid. “Mr. Rowles will accompany me, so you may begin your lesson with the girls.” The maid dipped into a curtsy and went off.
John reached over and took the bundle from Geny and began walking toward the entrance.
“A set of curtains will undoubtedly give the classrooms a fresher look. It is a shame the donations have fallen off so greatly that we cannot do some of the most basic repairs. Something like this is bound to help the appearance, at least.”
Lady Geny stopped at the doorway and gave him an odd look. “Are there truly no donations?” She corrected herself. “Is it true that the asylum accounts are so tight?”
John held out his hand to help her over the step leading into the entrance hall.
“It is so. To own the truth, I do not know how we are going to pay for the repairs to the wall. There have been no donations coming in apart from the usual ones, but those are only enough to cover the ordinary running of things.”
Lady Geny stopped in the middle of the hall as though in surprise, and he drew to a halt beside her, confused. But she only shook her head and moved forward again toward the classroom that lay next to the dining room. John set the bundle on the table and glanced at her again. She had gone curiously silent.
“Mr. Rowles,” she said, turning to look at him fully. “Mr. Thompson informed me recently that he gave a donation of five hundred pounds to the asylum. If you have not received any donations, where do you suppose it has gone?”
Surprise gave way to exultation. He had caught the earl at last, for surely it was Lord Goodwin who was pilfering the funds. But then the complexity of proving it dawned on him, and his mood plunged. His next emotion was relief that there would be money to repair the stable wall if only he could get his hands on it. Finally, he chose caution for fear of saying too much to Lady Geny and inadvertently spoiling his plans.
John settled for the truth. “I was not aware of Mr. Thompson’s donation, but I shall look into it.” She did not look convinced, and he could understand it when he was remaining so vague. “Of that you may be sure. There is no question that the foundation of the asylum must be properly restored.”
She nodded reluctantly and began to untie the bundle, pulling out the blue curtains she had made.
“May I hang these for you?” he asked and was rewarded with a warm smile—much more than he deserved.