Page 7 of Lydia Acquires Adoration (Bennet Ladies Liberation #5)
Chapter Six
Chester was glad to offer his master the flask of brandy as they were unceremoniously escorted to their carriage by the solicitor’s man. The spirits offered would not only shorten the baron's rant, but also induce a deep sleep thanks to the swaying motion of the carriage. While he had expected no other outcome, it was apparent that the baron was beyond furious over his exclusion and expulsion.
He rarely paid much attention to his master’s rants. There was not much point really and paying attention simply gave him a headache to go along with his stomach ulcer. Between swigs of the brandy, the baron continued to rant even as they made their way through the little village near Swarkstone. Exclaiming loudly enough to be heard by all and sundry, “…have the gall to ignore me in his will. If he was not already dead, I would have him killed! And the solicitor, he was something else entirely! How dare he not give way to my demands? He is nothing compared to me. I am of a higher class of men. I am a baron!” The exclamation would have been more impressive, possibly if it was not immediately followed by a hiccup.
Drinking heavily on an empty stomach, left the baron snoring soon enough and Chester could not fight the sigh that escaped him on realizing the man was finally asleep. It was a long trip back to London, and he did not look forward to dealing with the baron’s anger along the way.
He was certain that he would be back at the law firm soon enough, once again bribing clerks to get a chance to see the clause regarding the child’s care. It seemed that all possibility of the baron having access to his brother’s funds revolved around the little girl. So far, his dealings with Baron Blackthorn had revolved around greasing palms and threatening people of a certain sort. The baron lived at the periphery of society where he could impress and sway those below him. As far as he was aware, he had never attempted to influence someone with real power or backbone. Or, for that matter, interfere with the life and wellbeing of a child. The scum of the earth and men with things to hide were more his area of influence.
However, the men in the meeting that morning had all seemed like good and honest men. Was it possible that the baron had finally come up against a force that he was incapable of overcoming with blackmail and underhanded tactics? It would be a welcome possibility, but Chester knew better than to celebrate prematurely. Things were sure to get worse before they got better. If they got better.
Settling back into the cushion of his carriage, Sebastian let his mind wander. As late as it was, he knew that there was no hope of sleep for him. On the other side of the carriage, Herrington had drifted into a doze, but Sebastian would not be that lucky.
He had chosen to drive straight to Pemberley without a stop at an inn for the night. The journey was only eight hours long and they could manage it without stopping. Summer had granted them extra hours on the road, and with the full moon illuminating the night sky, their journey felt secure. Sebastian had just wished to be done with travel, so he had told his groom that they would only stop and change horses before continuing on. He anticipated arriving at Pemberley only a few hours past sunset.
He had been glad that Herrington had been willing to come back to Pemberley with him. Sebastian was sure to have many legal questions arise in the coming days, and it would be most convenient to have the man at hand. He was sure that Herrington would not be able to stay through his taking over Swarkstone Park, but one step at a time.
There were so many things to consider at the juncture before him. The most straightforward choice to consider was taking over management at Swarkstone. He would like to think that he would enjoy feeling actually useful. One of the reasons Sebastian spent so much time away from home was his father’s inability to let go of the reins back at his home of Trowbridge Hall.
Not one for any modernization or modern ideas of any sort, his father, Augustus Burgess, Viscount Trowbridge, felt that Sebastian could have a say in things once he died. The man insisted that his son's radical ideas would spell doom for their estate, and he would be happy to be dead when that happened. Modernization and leaving the old ways would in fact be the downfall of the nation, or so his father would have you believe. Of course, there were other reasons he never returned to visit Trowbridge hall, but it was all tied to his father’s need to maintain ultimate control. That and his low opinion of women.
Sebastian had no desire to follow his father's advice of using this time to sow his wild oats and enjoy his youth while uninhibited. That was not the kind of man that he was, though lately he had been increasingly bored with the endless rounds of calls and entertainments to be had in London. So it would be nice to bring meaning to his life by being able to pick up the reins, so to speak. Even if it was for the protection of his niece’s holdings.
He could not even begin to contemplate how he would face the most difficult of the provisions. Marriage. Such an important step in one’s life was not to be undertaken lightly, but with a deadline, things shifted. He worried about making the right choice. How did you make the correct choice when you had less than thirty days to find a bride?
Lydia stood with Selene at the window as William went out to greet the men descending from the carriage. They had received word that Sebastian and his solicitor, a friend of William’s, would arrive late that evening. She could feel the tension in her friend’s body as she stood next to her.
“He looks as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders,” whispered Selene. They could see her brother’s outline in the light of the flickering torches that had been left out for their arrival. She continued, “I fear whatever he learned was not good.”
Lydia was not about to say that she agreed with her friend. It was not the time to be pessimistic and so giving Selene’s arm a squeeze, Lydia said, “You do not know that. He has had a long day full of news and travel. Of course he is weary. Do not think the worst, not yet.”
With a nod, Selene sighed. “I suppose you are right.”
Drawing her friend from the window, Lydia encouraged her, “Let us greet them and make sure they get a bit of something to eat. You know they will not have taken a proper meal.”
Walking together to greet Mr. Burgess and Mr. Herrington, Lydia was not surprised when her friend rushed the last few steps and enfolded her brother in a hug. In fact, she had already greeted Mr. Herrington and asked him if he would care for tea or if he preferred to retire to his room before the siblings broke apart.
“It has been a long day and if you do not think it rude, I would appreciate retiring for the evening.”
“You are not rude at all, Mr. Herrington,” Lydia assured him. “Your room has already been prepared. Gregson will see you to your room and see to anything that you may need.” The footman she gestured to, who stood quietly nearby, nodded, ready to assist.
Coming over, William clapped Mr. Herrington on the back. “It is good to see you, Herrington. We will have to play a game or two of chess before you return to London.”
Mr. Herrington seemed to perk up at the mention of a game. “Oh, have you kept your game up all the way out here in the wilds of Derbyshire? Who do you play?”
“My sister, Mrs. Darcy, has been known to topple his king on a regular basis. Though sometimes she will let him win.” Lydia laughed, eager to interject some levity into the somber and tense atmosphere.
“Then I will just have to play her as well,” replied Mr. Herrington. Lydia was glad to see that he seemed pleased to play a skilled opponent rather than be put off by the fact that a woman was winning. He continued, “Well, if you do not mind, I will say good night now and see you all in the morning.”
At this, Mr. Burgess spoke up from where he stood, his sister still pulled into his side. “I cannot thank you enough for all the help that you have provided. Sleep well.”
Herrington smiled, and with a nod to them all, headed to the stairs. William shared a look with Lydia. She suspected he was in favor of postponing conversation until the morning but did not know how to approach the subject. She surmised that whatever Mr. Burgess had learned would not be handled in even a few hours, and that it would be better for all to get a fresh start in the morning.
They stood and watched Mr. Herrington go, escorted by Gregson up the stairs. Lydia looked around at their small group and, seeing their various looks of concern, she nodded her head and addressed everyone. “It is rather late and not the time to have a conversation about the reading of the will. We are all tired and worn, Mr. Burgess especially. We can discuss matters after breakfast when all of us are present and we have gotten some sleep.”
It seemed for a moment Selene might argue with her statement, but then she looked up at her brother standing beside her and sighed. Mr. Burgess might still appear strong, but Lydia could detect how his shoulders drooped, and his eyes seemed shadowed in the candlelight. It was clear that he was in no condition to start a lengthy conversation about the emotional and concerning topic at hand.
Patting her brother’s hand, Selene said, “Lydia is correct. We will learn all in the morning.”