Page 22 of The Heart’s Choice (Cotton Cops Mysteries #1)
Chapter 21
Confrontation
B ea supposed that her previous life in Dorset had insulated her from the harsh realities of life. A vicar’s daughter had little to do with farm laborers and the like who perhaps endured poor working conditions and died cruel deaths in primitive hovels.
However, Bridget’s suffering brought home to her the necessity for change in the industrial heartland of her country. As a woman alone, she could do very little, but with money came influence. It was more vital than ever that she find the late baron’s hidden funds. They’d ascertained from the bank that he hadn’t deposited the money. It made sense that he had stashed the cash in the house—but where?
She also had to find some way to change her father’s mind about Roger. She resolved to speak to him after Bridget’s funeral.
One bright spot in all the sorrow was a reply from Edith. Bea was thrilled to learn her friend was happy and the new mother of a baby girl, but the news only increased her longing for Roger Sandiford and a family of her own. Edith’s commiserations about Bea’s unhappiness with Lancashire and her lengthy descriptions of local gossip opened her eyes. She realized to her own amazement she had no desire to return to Dorset.
* * *
Legs braced, Roger stood in a different cemetery, but the east wind was just as bitingly cold as it had been on that day not so long ago when Abigail Parker was buried.
This time, he was the one supporting Beatrice as Bridget Mann’s coffin was lowered into the grave. There was no sign of Peter Leigh and his foppish friend.
Apart from Arthur Parker and the minister, Bridget’s father and younger sister were the only other mourners on the windswept hillside. Apparently recovered from his anger, Mann had thanked Roger profusely for covering the funeral expenses. Roger wished the fellow had held on to some of his outrage over his daughter’s death. He’d previously decided against installing better ventilation in his mill. Now, it would be a priority—if he didn’t lose Broadclough to his creditors.
When Beatrice walked over to express her condolences to Bridget’s family, Roger took the opportunity to turn to Arthur Parker. “I would venture a guess that this burial has dragged up terrible memories,” he said.
“Yes,” Arthur replied, his gaze fixed somewhere in the far distance.
“May I ask, sir, why you’ve turned against me?”
Arthur swiveled his head to look at him. “Turn against you? My dear fellow …”
“You can’t deny you’ve forbidden any relationship between me and your daughter, and I would know the reason.”
Swaying on his feet, Arthur paled.
“I love her,” Roger said. “If you doubt that …”
Parker held up his hand. “No. I’m sure … er … I had resolved not to tell you this but, if I do, you will understand my motives.”
“Tell me what?”
“The late baron held the mortgages on your mill and your home. They’ve devolved to me.”
“The wily old fox!” Roger exclaimed. “I never knew. His lawyers arranged the financing. But why does this prevent me from marrying your daughter?”
“Because I’ll assign the mortgages to her when I pass on. She must have income, and she cannot inherit the barony.”
“But her son could,” Roger replied.
“Which is the reason she must marry Peter before much more time elapses.”
“I will never marry Peter,” Beatrice declared as she returned to her father’s side. “I know you always think everyone’s motives are honorable, but I don’t trust Peter, nor his bosom beau.”
Arthur frowned. Roger hoped he was finally seeing the obvious. “Does it not strike you as suspicious that Peter is Odlum’s best friend?” he asked. “The fop clerks for the late baron’s law firm. He must have known about the mortgages.”
“Were you not surprised when Peter showed up at the funeral?” Beatrice asked.
“I suppose I was,” Arthur confessed. “I admit I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“It was a trying time,” Beatrice agreed. “But my cousin doesn’t love me. I think he is after your income from the mortgages, Papa.”
“And your barony, sir,” Roger added. “If he succeeds in fathering a son on Beatrice …”
Arthur rubbed his whiskers. “You might be right, now I think on it. He always was a selfish child.”
“So, I have your blessing to court Beatrice?” Roger asked, extending a hand.
“You do,” Arthur replied, returning the handshake.
A cemetery wasn’t the appropriate place for Roger to kiss his beloved, especially when they were standing beside a newly dug grave, but he didn’t care. He put his arm around her waist and bestowed a chaste peck on her cheek. “I promise to spend my life making your daughter happy.”
Bridget’s family joined them and together everyone proceeded out of the cemetery. Roger acknowledged Meg’s curious wink with a tip of his hat.
* * *
Still floating on air now that her father had given permission for Roger to court her, Bea agreed with his opinion that Roger not accompany them back to Belmont Grange. The plan was to inform Peter and Odlum that there would be no marriage between the cousins. The Londoners were unpredictable and Roger’s presence might result in fisticuffs.
“We should have confided in Roger about the hidden money,” she told her father, as they traveled across the moor in the Sandiford brougham.
“It might not even exist,” he replied.
“I am convinced it does. Think of what we could achieve with that money.”
“I suspect spending it on yourself isn’t what you have in mind.”
“We both know it should fund more relief for the workers, and perhaps some on the house.”
“You put me to shame, young lady. All I could see was the security it would bring you if we put it in the bank.”
“Where it would do no one any good. Roger is my security. He’ll weather this setback in his fortunes. That’s the kind of man he is.”
He patted her hand. “Can you forgive a foolish old man for not seeing the obvious?”
“You were grieving. There’s nothing to forgive.”