Page 27 of The Scandalous Saga of the White Lady

“Then it is I who must save the family?”

Arnold looked up and stared directly at his son. “Yes. Exactly. We need a large infusion of cash if we are to survive as a family.”

“Let me speak with Maria first. I truly do not know what her situation is financially. What would you need to make our family whole?”

“Twenty thousand minimum. But that would leave nothing for you and your wife to establish an independent living. You would need to live here.”

“I will see what I can do,” Percy said quietly.

“And if not, then off you go to London. Remember, you are to be a duke someday. That is certainly worth a great deal to a wealthy young lady with no title.”

* * *

The Duke was in Marlborough in a meeting with a number of gentlemen who considered locating a cotton mill in the city. They had been in discussion all morning, but it was not going well for Arnold. He had offered his tenements as a possible location for the mill, but it required evicting all of his tenants and tearing down the buildings. But there were any number of other prime locations that did not require any preparation. These locations were ready to build on now.

Arnold was visibly frustrated and showed his anger. This made matters only worse.

“But why can you not see what a perfect location my property offers?” Arnold insisted.

“What makes it any better than any of the others?” One of the negotiators asked.

“It is prime riverfront property. Perfect for delivering raw materials and shipping out your product after it is made.”

“But so are these others.”

“But I can offer a better price,” Arnold insisted.

“How much better?” another gentleman asked.

Arnold wrote a new figure on a piece of paper and slid it across the table to the man. The gentleman looked at it but seemed unimpressed. “This is not a great deal better than our other offers and we would need to wait until the tenants were evicted and the building was demolished. It does not work for us. Thank you, Your Grace, but we need to go in another direction.”

Now Arnold was really angry, and he pulled his papers together, placed them in his portfolio, and stormed out of the chamber.

Chapter 11

The Duke went directly to the nearest tavern and ordered a double scotch.

He had several more and was becoming sullen, drunk, and morose when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He spun around thinking it was some bum trying to cadge a drink.

“What?” he snapped. It was one of the gentlemen from the meeting—a scrawny, dried-up looking older man with thinning hair and red blotchy skin.

The man looked as though he was reconsidering whether he wanted to speak to Arnold or not.

“I am sorry, Mr. Campbell. I do not take rejection well,” Arnold mumbled.

The gentleman appeared to change his mind and he called the barkeep. “I’ll have what he is having and another for him.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Come, sit with me. I have something I would like to discuss with you privately,” the gentleman said, and led them to a private table in a far corner of the tavern.

They settled into place as the barkeep brought the drinks.

“My good man, bring us a bottle of that for the table,” Arnold insisted.

“Yes, sir.”

Both gentlemen sipped their drinks for a moment in silence, and then Arnold asked, “And just what do you have to say to me? Have you rethought my proposal? Do you want to offer the deal to me?”