“I have no desire whatsoever to spend even more money,” said Mary quickly. “Contributing to charity is worthy, but I do believe that can be overdone, making people dependent rather than making their lives better.”
She thought about it for several moments. Then she asked, “Who would it affect if we sold off your investments, and who would it affect if we just kept them or if we continued to accumulate more?”
Since they were back on a practical subject, Mary expected her husband to let her go so she could return to her seat, but he continued to hold her waist as he thought about her question.
“Investing money in business ventures, such as warehouses, textile mills, and other such things allows those who have skill but no money to build successful businesses, which in turn provides many people with jobs and income to sustain themselves with. Withdrawing those investments too suddenly can cause the entire venture to collapse, putting all those people out of a job and ruining their lives as well as the lives of their families. It is best to sell stock in a business gradually to avoid such sudden changes. If you do that, it makes little difference.
“As far as liquidating the real estate ventures, while it would take some time to sell everything, it would have very little effect on anyone. As far as I am concerned, one landlord is very much like another.
“The trouble comes when you have to decide what to do with the money once everything is liquidated. Even the most charitable person cannot use one hundred thousand pounds in the blink of an eye, and the most extravagant socialite in London can’t spend that much quickly.”
Mary shook her head. “I am not asking you to give everything up,” she said. “I am only asking what effect your desire to grow your wealth is having on the world around you. May I see your list of investments again?”
While maintaining one hand on her waist, Mr. Allen reached for the list that was sitting on his desk and handed it to her. She perused the list, thinking about what effect each of these businesses had on people’s lives. She applied everything she had learned about business and money and came to a conclusion.
“Honestly, Mr. Allen, I can see no harm done here. While your motivations may not have been philanthropic, your investments have provided many, many people with the ability to earn a living. You have not cheated anyone, nor have you oppressed anyone in the process. I can see no reason to change anything, not even your real estate ventures.”
“Then, do you wish for a greater household budget? More pin money?” he asked.
Mary almost scoffed. “What would I do with more money? We have everything we need for comfort. More money would only be spent on ostentation, and I do find that sort of thing rather unpleasant.”
“Then we are in agreement to keep things as they are?” asked Mr. Allen.
“Yes, we are,” said Mary. She kissed his forehead then gently extricated herself from his hold. It was pleasant to be wanted and to be held close, but sitting on his lap was becoming uncomfortable.
As she went back to her seat, he said, “I am sorry I didn’t discuss all this with you sooner.”
Mary waved away his concern. “Even if you had, I would not have understood it. Now, I do, and I am glad for it.”
Chapter 7
One week later, Mr. Allen presented Mary with an elegant, comfortable-looking phaeton. “It is our anniversary today, and I thought you might find this useful in visiting the tenants and neighbors. It is much faster to get ready than the carriage, because you only need one horse to pull it, and you can drive it yourself, though I would prefer if you took a groomsman or footman with you anyway, just in case.”
“Thank you, Mr. Allen,” Mary said as she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “That was very thoughtful of you.” She hurried forward to look over her new vehicle.
It was beautiful, painted mostly white with gold accents. The seat was red leather and looked very comfortable. It was much higher than a normal chaise, and Mary imagined it might be a bit difficult to get in and out of, but the passenger of such a vehicle would have a lovely view, sitting above the dust kicked up by the horse.
Mr. Allen appeared at her side, once again. “Shall we take it for a drive to see how you like it?”
Mary looked up at the sky. It was a cloudy day, though it hadn’t actually rained yet. She could not tell if the clouds would release their water any time soon. “I don’t know,” she said. “It might rain, and though the phaeton is pretty, it doesn’t have a cover.”
“All will be well,” he responded. “We won’t go far, and even if it does rain a bit, it is a warm day so there will be no real harm done. Why don’t you fetch your pelisse and bonnet while I get a horse hitched up to it.”
Mary did as she was told, and by the time she returned, her new phaeton was ready to go. Mr. Allen helped her up into it, and soon they were off.
The ride was as glorious as she had hoped. They were perched above the dust, and there was a lovely breeze because of their speed, which added excitement to the already pleasant view. Mr. Allen showed her a little of how to hold the reins and guide the horse, but she was not yet comfortable with it by the time they felt the first drops of rain.
Mr. Allen took the reins back and turned them toward home, letting the horse go as quickly as it wanted. By the time they arrived at the portico in front of Braydon Manor, they were both soaked, but since Mr. Allen was laughing, Mary found she did not mind so much.
The following day, however, changed Mary’s opinion significantly. Mr. Allen had developed a cold, and Mary was no longer quite so sanguine about them getting wet the day before. Mr. Allen, however, waved away her concern and went about his business as usual, the only difference being that he carried many more handkerchiefs with him.
Though Mary did not like to see her husband suffer, she assumed it was a simple cold, and he would recover quickly enough. Instead, she was quite alarmed when Mr. Allen did not come down for breakfast two days later. His valet arrived halfway through her meal and told her that his master requested her presence in his room.
Even though they had been married for a year, Mary had never been in Mr. Allen’s room, so she was a bit nervous as she opened the door. As soon as she saw him, however, all her nerves were replaced by fear and worry.
His cheeks were red with fever, and his breathing had a wheezy, whistling sort of sound.
“Henry!” Mary said, as she rushed to his side. “Henry, you need a doctor.”
