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“If you’ll sit down, Your Grace.” The solicitor invited her. “We’ll be able to start.”
Still astounded, she sat slowly on an armchair. Her brother dressed a not so fashionable suit, too small for his growing belly. Her father looked run down, certainly from the fever, thinner and paler in a suit that seemed too big for him.
“His Grace called for this meeting today,” the solicitor started, “to put right some matters concerning the Drawbridge family.”
“Precisely.” Philip took the word. “It’s public knowledge that Mr Eastwell, the son, has pending debts that he finds himself unable to honour.” He looked at Selene, as if she was the purpose of this. “I am willing to liquidate his debts in exchange for a few conditions.” He eyed both Eastwells directly.
“What’s this charade, Crompton?” Her ever-unpleasant brother interposed.
“We’re coming to that, Eastwell.” Philip said with authority. “First, both father and son will sign a letter of apology to Selene for your part in her forced marriage.”
“A ‘forced’ marriage that made her a duchess twice?” Charles scorned.
“It doesn’t matter what came of it!” Philip would lose his level tone in no time, Selene observed. “In principle, she hadn’t accepted it. You’re going to apologise for forcing her.”
“It would be only fair.” Her father spoke for the first time in a strenuous voice.
Philip nodded. “Mr Eastwell?” The solicitor turned to Charles.
“Will that be it?” He scowled.
“No. There are more clauses.” Philip said seriously. “Especially in your case, since you’re the one who’s owing.”
“I prefer to see which further humiliation you have in store.” Charles positioned himself.
The solicitor came forward. “Mr Charles Eastwell will have his debts paid in full in exchange for voluntary work in a house for gambling addicts.” The house had been opened by the widow of an addicted gentleman. The gentleman had killed himself, preferring that to the shame of dishonourable debt.
“Work?” Charles asked indignant. “Gentry don’t work!”
“You will.” Philip said with finality.
“In failing to be present five days a week or going back to gambling habits, Mr Charles Eastwell will be forced to leave England for Australia and settle there for life.” The solicitor continued.
“It’s a penal colony!” Charles almost shouted, pleated brows, eyes squinted.
“Take it or leave it, Eastwell.” Philip challenged. “After all, you might as well remain clean.”
“It is a very sensible solution.” Baron Drawbridge opined. “You’d have a reason to keep away from trouble, Charles. God knows that nothing else did.”
Charles grumbled some acknowledgement. If her half-brother continued with that despicable behaviour, Selene feared her stomach would manifest itself.
“If you refuse, you’ll be bought a soldier’s commission to fight in Africa, Eastwell.” Philip added, being entirely on the upper ground. “Be certain of one thing. You’ll not remain in England to cause more shame and distress. Understood?”
Charles lowered his head, seeming to acquiesce. In seconds he lifted it again and darted Philip a contemptuous look. “You’re doing this because you’re disgustingly in love with her!” He pointed at Selene.
Selene would have slapped her half-brother if she wasn’t well-behaved enough.
Philip’s eyebrows arched. “I can understand you find it disgusting, since you never tried it.” Philip shot back. “I feel elated, if you must know.” He threw a scorching gaze at Selene, making her blush with the charge of it.
Robert Eastwell noticed the exchange and smiled to himself, satisfied.
“What do you say, Eastwell?” Philip pushed.
“You leave me no choice but do this…abominable peasant’s work.” He sounded disgruntled this time.
“Good.” Philip commented. “Our solicitor will prepare the documents and take for you to sign. This agreement is valid as of this minute.”
