Page 5 of Lydia Acquires Adoration (Bennet Ladies Liberation #5)

Chapter Four

It took Selene all of her training that had come with being a debutante for her to resist pacing the room. Instead, she calmly sat on the chair provided and took small sips of her tea, trying to hide her frantic concern for her brother's trip to Swarkstone Park. Despite her desire to pace, she found herself unexpectedly seated and sharing a cup of tea with Mrs. Darcy.

Selene was taken aback when Mrs. Darcy, who had recently given birth, welcomed her into her sitting room for a soothing cup of tea. Then again, the Bennet ladies all seemed to be rather singular. Who was she to say that a woman had to stay in bed for weeks after having a child? Maybe it would be something she would know herself one day. She had thought she might have such an outcome, but then Cedric had died, and her hopes were crushed before they even had the chance to take root.

Smiling at Selene over the rim of her teacup, Mrs. Darcy said, “I know that it is half scandalous that I am already up and about within my own rooms, but I have always been an active sort. Even when I broke my arm, I had trouble staying in bed.”

“If half the stories I have heard from Kitty are true, I am not surprised,” replied Selene. She would always be grateful for having met Kitty the previous season. They had become great friends and often exchanged letters. Kitty was very close to her older sister and often would share anecdotes that would have them laughing until they cried. Studying the other woman, Selene was happy to note that she appeared just as hale and hearty as the last time she had seen her, despite her recent ordeal. Selene said, “It is good to know that you are well on your way to recovery, Mrs. Darcy.”

Waving her hand dismissively, she insisted, “None of this ‘Mrs. Darcy.’ Please call me Elizabeth. I know you are close with both Kitty and Lydia and use both of their names. I wish for the same.”

Meeting Elizabeth's emerald eyes, Selene's own eyes lit up with a smile. “I am more than happy to comply, Elizabeth,” she said, her voice brimming with warmth. “But only if you return the favor and call me Selene.”

“Selene, I would be interested in talking about the situation you find yourself in.” Elizabeth’s comment had Selene’s eyebrows rising.

Tilting her head, Selene said, “I am uncertain what information has been passed to you, but my brother has gone to Swarkstone to be there for the reading of the will of Cornelius Blakesley, my niece’s father. We hope that there will be no issue with us taking on her care.” Looking into Elizabeth’s steady gaze, Selene found herself biting her lip before saying, “I know it is useless to worry, but I cannot help it. So much depends on the outcome of the will reading.”

Nodding her head in commiseration, Elizabeth explained, “I would be just as worried if I were in your shoes. I love all my sisters dearly and if something happened to one of them, I would fight tooth and claw to take care of any child they left behind. We are very alike in that way.”

Selene was slightly surprised by Elizabeth’s fierce reaction to the situation. The woman had only met Clara once, but she seemed very protective. Maybe it was her recent dealings with motherhood coming through? It was said that a mother was the most ferocious of predators, her maternal instincts making her a force to be reckoned with.

Interrupting Selene’s thought, Elizabeth continued, “I may have just had a baby, but my mind is still as sharp as ever and I want to help. If you are willing, tell me everything you know about your niece’s situation and her father and that way, when your brother returns, I will be ready to delve into strategy and tactics with everyone.”

Why did it feel as if Elizabeth was talking about preparing for war? Putting down her teacup in its saucer, she said, “One would think that it was you who had spent time in the regulars and not your brother-in-law, with your talk of strategies and tactics.”

“I will admit to picking up the phrase from Theodore. While my life now revolves around activities that don't require strategy, there was a time when it played a crucial role in my everyday decisions,” explained Elizabeth. “But less of me. Tell me more of your niece.”

“You may recall that I told you I lost my sister in childbirth. Frankly, everyone seemed to be shocked that Clara survived. She was so very tiny.” As Selene spoke with Elizabeth that morning, their conversation shifting from Sophia to Clara and oddly enough, chess, she came to appreciate Elizabeth much better.

They spent most of the afternoon in each other’s company. Selene even held baby Gilbert when he was awake. All in all, it was time well spent, though she wondered just how things were proceeding with her brother.

Sebastian had arrived at Swarkstone relatively swiftly, with “relative” being the key word. With only three people inside the carriage and little baggage, they were able to keep a swift pace. They actually made good time, even with having to stop a number of times to rest the horses at coaching inns. Still, with fifty odd miles to cover, they had not arrived at Swarkstone for a good eight hours. Sebastian had been more than ready to escape from the swaying of the carriage by then.

He had not been ready to come face to face with Clara’s other uncle the moment he entered the front hall. Randell Blakesley, Baron of Blackthorn, was not what Sebastian thought he would be. Though he was uncertain what he had pictured, whatever it was, it was not this. The man was not imposing, at least not in a physical sense. He was shorter than Sebastian by a good four or five inches, and not even padding could have helped to hide his lack of physical physique. While his clothes were fine, they lacked the distinctiveness of a dandy, fop, or rake, making his style difficult to categorize. Wherever his tastes ran, they were expensive.

If Sebastian had passed him on the street, he would not have thought twice about him. Yet locking gazes with the man made Sebastian want to shudder. His pale blue eyes lacked the emotion one would normally expect. No, there was no emotion in those depths, only cold calculation.

When the man smiled and held out a hand for him to shake, Sebastian reacted without hesitation to return the gesture. Though his first thought afterwards was that he would need to wash his hands. There was just something about the baron that was off-putting. Sebastian did not know what it was, but something in the back of his mind told him to be wary.

“It is good to meet you, Burgess. I hope your journey to Swarkstone was not too difficult.”

Fixing a bland smile firmly upon his face, Sebastian responded the only way he knew how. “The journey was pleasant enough. Thank you.” What else could he say? It would not do to tip his hand too soon by telling the man he thought him an oily tick. That would get him nowhere.

Holding on to his lapels, Blackthorn seemed to chuckle to himself. “Good, good. It is nice of you to come to the reading of my brother’s will. I did not know you were at all close to him. Really, your sister died what? Five years ago? I would not have thought you would have kept up the relationship.”

Tilting his head, Sebastian fought to maintain his smile, saying, “I had a rather vested interest to do so.”

Sebastian’s careful observation helped him to take note of the slight tightening of the man’s lips and a narrowing of the eyes, but Randell Blakesley only responded by saying, “Oh?”

“Yes,” Sebastian began, “He was the father and guardian of my beloved niece.”

Nodding vigorously, the older man exclaimed, “Ah, yes, little Laura, our niece.”

Sebastian could feel the tick behind his right eyebrow starting up again. Had the man just called their niece Laura? He might have been forced to say something ill-advised if not for the hand on his shoulder distracting him.

The man who had come up to him helped further by saying, “Baron Blackthorn, you must excuse me for interrupting, but I really must speak with Burgess here for a moment. You understand—business matters to attend to.”

The man did not even wait for a response before pulling Sebastian away and drawing him into a room off the hallway and shutting the door firmly behind them both. “I apologize for the sudden interruption and getting the introduction backwards, but you looked like you could use a bit of a rescue.” The gentleman offered a card before introducing himself. “Herold Herrington at your service.”

Sebastian studied the card. Not only did it tell him that the man before him was the man he had been meeting at Swarkstone, but it was made from high-quality paper and spoke of wealth. The card was quite impressive, but Herrington himself was equally so. If he had to guess, Sebastian would guess Herrington to be maybe Darcy’s age. His attire may have been simple and subdued, but the fine tailoring and choice of fabric hinted at a higher price point, even in its muted hues. Then, too, there was something about the way the man looked at him over the rim of his glasses that spoke of discernment.

Relaxing into a more natural smile, Sebastian said, “It is good to meet you. Darcy spoke of you highly. I would shake your hand, but I feel as if I should really be washing mine after shaking hands with Baron Blackthorn just now.”

Chuckling under his breath, Herrington said, “I can well understand the feeling. There is just something about that man that is off.”

Rubbing at his still twitching eyebrow, Sebastian responded, saying, “Would you believe that he just referred to our shared niece as Laura? And this is the man who I fear may become the guardian of my niece.”

Clasping him on the shoulder, Herrington said, “As I said in my letter, I have every confidence of being able to fight such an occurrence, and we do not need to worry about that yet. Take on only those problems that you are sure you have to face, Mr. Burgess. Do not borrow trouble that does not yet exist.”

It sounded like fine logic to Sebastian. If only he could completely control his anxiety. “Though I am quite happy to hear we will have a case if it comes to it, I am left wondering just what kind of man we are dealing with here?”

Looking Sebastian in the eye, Herrington asked, “Just how much do you know about the Blackthorn family?”

“I thought I told you it would be best for that Burgess fellow to get the incorrect information about the reading of my fool brother’s will,” snarled Baron Blackthorn. The man stalked around the room as he berated Chester Eliot. It was a tableau that Chester had endured many times before.

“Yes, sir, and I bribed the clerks at the firm quite well. It appears that this Herrington fellow, tired of being given the runaround, took matters into his own hands and personally confronted your brother's solicitor. As I have told you before, Niles Coulson is not a man who can be bribed into compliance. It is why your brother chose him to be his solicitor.”

Slamming a fist against a column, the baron shouted, “Then you should have used threats! It's as if you want me to throw you into debtors' prison and force your mother and sister from the cottage they live in. You know your father handed the deed over to me before his death.”

Chester humbly bowed his head and whispered, “I am fully aware of that, sir. Rest assured, I will work harder to do better.”

The baron sneered at him for a moment before returning to his previous rant. “I will not be opposed in this. There is too much at stake.”

“Yes, sir.” Chester knew from experience that keeping his responses to a minimum would serve him best. Letting the baron rant for a time always made it easier for him to handle later. Dealing with the man was a necessary evil that Chester cursed his father for every day.

They had once been a respectable family, but his father’s desire to see them become more than they were led to gambling and angry money lenders. If his father had not amassed huge piles of debt and went to Blackthorn for a loan before his death, Chester would never have anything to do with the man. Now he worked for baron Blackthorn, and the once luxurious lifestyle of his mother and sisters had been replaced by long days toiling away for a seamstress.

His gaze slid around the room as the baron stormed about, only half listening to his tired complaints of misuse. It was all the same complaint at this point in his rant. The baron complained ceaselessly, “Father never should have allowed such a settlement. His wife’s money should have gone to him and then me not be handed down to her child! I was his firstborn. I deserve it all.”

It was a common enough problem. You could see it’s like all the way back in bible times. The old baron had two wives, and each wife had a son. The first wife passed away shortly after giving birth to the heir, the present Baron Blackthorn. Not content as a widower, the old baron had married again, and his second wife also birthed a son. The fact that he had a half-brother did not bother the current baron. It was the fact that his father’s second wife had an airtight settlement that left all the monies and the estate she brought into the marriage to her son, Cornelius.

When the current baron had swiftly run through his inheritance with his fast lifestyle, the grumbling had begun. Left with a derelict estate that he could not parcel off due to an entailment, he began saying his father should have seen to the upkeep with his second wife’s funds. Eventually, his complaints had shifted and now he believed that, as the firstborn, he should have received everything. In his mind, Cornelius should not have received anything, as he was only a second son. The baron believed that his younger brother should have had to shift for himself.

“Do you understand?” The baron questioned, and Chester was pulled back from his thoughts.

It did not matter what had gone before the question; he knew what was expected of him. Nodding his head, he replied, “Yes, sir.” Chester couldn't understand the baron's reasoning behind trying to twist his younger brother's will in his own favor, but he was in the man’s service, come what may.

Keeping his eyes averted in a show of respect and his head tilted down, Chester hid his smile. Even though he was compelled to carry out the man's plans, he couldn't help but derive a perverse joy from imagining their failure. He was only human, after all.

Sebastian sat, fighting the nervous anticipation that ran through him, knowing that the reading of Cornelius Blakesley’s will would be read in a few hours. Waiting had never been something he was good at, and Sebastian found himself wishing that he was back in London, where he could blow off some steam at Gentleman Jack’s. Going a few rounds with someone and working up a sweat had always been one of his preferred methods of killing time. It was not, however, an indulgence he could anticipate here in the country.

Running into Baron Blackthorn so soon after his arrival had been bad luck, but at least he had not had to spend too much time with the man. He had avoided sharing a meal with the baron the evening before by claiming exhaustion and asking for a tray to be brought to his room. The food that had been brought was meager and the tea lukewarm. Despite that, Sebastian did not regret his choice.

Sighing, Sebastian let his head fall back against the back of his chair. It was easy to see evidence of the lack of staff in the care that was being provided. Apparently, even getting warm water for him to wash up with was a chore without the needed staff below stairs. Davies, his normally unflinching valet, seemed to be frustrated with the conditions and had gone down to fetch the water himself. Though with as long as it was taking, he wondered if Davies was having to boil it himself. The lack of efficiency was becoming increasingly frustrating, though he didn't hold the remaining staff responsible. Sebastian could not truly be angry at the people who had fled their positions in fear.

If Herrington's claims about Baron Blackthorn were even partially true, he wouldn't blame anyone for wanting to escape the estate and avoid such a contemptible man. Herrington had described him as a spendthrift who did not think twice of abusing staff or people he saw as somehow less than him. It was said that the baron considered those with a lower rank as unworthy of respect, showing no mercy to anyone, regardless of their gender. Hearing that made Sebastian glad that his sister and niece were safe at Pemberley.

Herrington told him that all that was left of the man’s inheritance from his father was a crumbling manor and an estate full of terrified tenants. It seemed that Blackthorn was notorious for his underhanded practices and fits of violence and was said to be sustaining himself through the profits of his blackmail schemes. It would make sense that the baron saw Swarkstone and his brother’s holdings as a needed infusion of funds. If Cornelius Blakesley had left his wealth to the baron, Sebastian would wish him well. His only concern was Clara and her wellbeing. He was ready to find out what he could of the will and be gone from such a poorly run place.