Giving Jonathan a nod, Mr. Eden added, “I am glad you felt free to speak with me, and you needn’t fear that I shall tell another soul—least of all your father. These secrets shall remain between us.”
Mr. Eden frowned, a furrow pulling at his brow. “But can you not ask your uncle for assistance? Despite so many estates floundering, Avebury Park continues to thrive, and there are a great many bankers who would love to count Mr. Oliver Kingsley amongst their clients. I know he is averse to speculation, but I cannot imagine a gentleman of his substance turning his back on his nephew.”
Hesitating briefly, Jonathan carefully replied, “My uncle has already invested quite generously with the company, and thoughwe are always interested in securing more investors, the projects on hand at present are fully funded.”
But Mr. Eden was no fool, and his gaze sharpened with immediate understanding, so Jonathan pressed forward before his nerve failed him entirely.
“The developments themselves remain sound and will be profitable in the long-term. What I lack is stability in the interim.” His fingers drummed lightly atop the desk. “Too much of our revenue arrives irregularly or remains tied up in projects for long periods, leaving very little room to maneuver when delays or setbacks arise elsewhere.”
A thoughtful hum escaped Mr. Eden as he leaned back. “What you require is steadier management of the income already passing through your hands.”
“Yes, sir.” Perhaps there was a more politic way of hinting at his desire, but there was no point in pretending he meant anything else.
Mr. Eden regarded him a long moment, tapping one finger thoughtfully against the chair arm whilst Jonathan forced himself to remain still: desperation would hardly inspire confidence.
At last the gentleman gave a low huff of amusement. “A great many men spend months circling this subject, flattering me to death whilst attempting to maneuver themselves into this precise conversation.” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Others send gifts, invitations, glowing recommendations from mutual acquaintances, or else attempt to corner me at dinners and pretend their interest is wholly social whilst steering every discussion to business.”
Jonathan stiffened, his muscles tightening.
“But this?” Mr. Eden waved a hand between them. “It is refreshingly honest to hear a man plainly admit where his difficulties lie and what assistance he requires. And for what itis worth, Mr. Hatcher, I do not believe your instincts are wrong. Hatcher & Byrnes is a solid company with a good reputation, but unfortunately, Eden & Co. is not the proper fit for what you require.”
Jonathan fought to keep his shoulders upright, but there was no bolstering them when bearing the weight of that rejection. Mr. Eden raised a hand to forestall him.
“I mean no disrespect, Mr. Hatcher, but from what you have said, the amount of ready cash you have to dedicate to my business is far less than I require of clients. There is just too much demand for my services, and I haven’t any openings for a new client of your level. It wouldn't be fair to those whom I have turned away—no matter how much you deserve it.”
Drawing on all his strength, Jonathan sat very still as the last of that fragile hope quietly unraveled, leaving the bright path forward obscured with fog and darkness. The room felt unbearably stuffy, every ledger and contract pressing in on him.
Nodding his head, Jonathan managed to say, “I understand, sir.”
And he did. Rationally, at least.
“Not so fast, Mr. Hatcher,” said the gentleman slowly. “There may yet be a way forward.”
Jonathan’s eyes sharpened on him.
“If your investments were combined with another party’s holdings, the arrangement becomes considerably more practical.” Mr. Eden tapped one finger thoughtfully against the chair arm once more. “Your uncle, Mr. Kingsley, is precisely the sort of client I would be mad to turn aside. If you and he were to combine your funds and approach Eden & Co…”
The gentleman gave a slight shrug. “That would be an entirely different matter.”
The suggestion settled over Jonathan with dizzying possibility. The arrangement genuinely made sense for everyoneinvolved. The Kingsley investments would gain the management of one of the most respected private bankers in London whilst Hatcher & Byrnes obtained another avenue for income. Just the thought of it sent fresh energy coursing through Jonathan until he was light-headed.
Projects no longer balanced perpetually at the edge of collapse. Developments allowed proper time to mature into profitability rather than being rushed along. Breathing room at last.
Mr. Eden pushed himself easily to his feet, straightening his cuffs with the same polished composure he carried into every room, and Jonathan rose whilst struggling to believe how thoroughly the course of the morning had shifted within the span of a single conversation.
“Well,” said the gentleman as Jonathan escorted him to the office door, “I shall leave you to your work as I know you are going to be occupied this afternoon. Nora mentioned you were escorting her on some errands.”
The implication had Jonathan opening his mouth instinctively, some awkward explanation rising up to assure the gentleman that matters between himself and Miss Eden remained firmly within the bounds of friendship. But Mr. Eden waved another dismissive hand before Jonathan could utter a word.
“Enjoy your afternoon, Mr. Hatcher.”
And with that the gentleman swept from the office as smoothly as he had entered it, leaving Jonathan motionless for several seconds as he tried to get his feet under him once more; it felt as though the current had pulled him from the shore and deposited him a good distance off.
At last he exhaled sharply, snatched up a fresh sheet of paper, and began composing a letter to Uncle Oliver to tell him the good news.
Chapter 25
Sunlight spilled warmly across the open carriage as it rolled at an easy pace along the crowded streets, spring air stirring the flowers adorning Nora’s hat whilst the city drifted by them. A stack of books rested beside her on the seat, tied neatly with string, though it threatened to topple over every time the carriage struck an uneven stone.
