As if she would intentionally sell herself short withPhantasma...when her heart and soul was on every single page. Instead of being delighted that the most significant publisher in the country had wanted her book, offered a compromise and had paid dearly for it, he had been disparaging. Unintentionally, because it had come from a good place—but the road to hell was paved with good intentions and he hated himself for upsetting her.
By the time he reached his house, hers was pitch black. All of Twenty-One Bedford Place was sleeping, including Hope. Or at least he assumed she was sleeping as no light bled on to her balcony and the door which was usually ajar to let in the crisp summer air of the night was, unsurprisingly, very clearly shut and likely bolted too in case he was tempted to wander. She wanted him to spend the night in purgatory and he couldn’t blame her. He deserved to be there. If nothing else, it gave him some time to work on a proper apology. Something which would mend the breach and warm her heart too. And obviously, something which told her in no uncertain terms what a ham-fisted idiot he was.
He took himself off to his study to ponder it, and for some reason started to jot his jumbled thoughts down to make sure he left nothing out when he prostrated himself at her feet in the morning and begged for her forgiveness. Once that deed was done, and because he knew he wouldn’t sleep anyway, he decided to tackle the ever-replenished and growing mountain of paperwork on his desk.
On the top of the pile was another thick report from Mr Waterhouse. His half-yearly summary of share dividends which likely added significantly to his already obscene fortune he still had no clue what to do with beyond give them away. He picked it up and scanned the pages, all tightly but neatly organised in his portfolio manager’s rigid handwriting. Alphabetised and arranged in simple columns—company, amount of shares and dividend paid. TheAs alone took up half a page and made him a tidy two thousand. Staggering really. To think that his brother must have opened a similar statement every six months, earned that much money with absolutely no work or effort from himself, and still slept at night knowing his younger brother toiled on a herring boat to make ends meet while his stepmother languished in Mill House in the most stark and rancid conditions.
It honestly beggared belief when all this money simply brought him guilt because there was more of it than he could possibly ever spend, and yet there were so many in the land who had so little. For a long time, he had been one of them, so he knew how soul-destroying poverty could be and while his brother had never felt compelled to share his good fortune around, Luke wasn’t made like that. Thank goodness! Despite his current ridiculous workload, lofty plans were already formulating to put some of this tainted money to good use. A free school in Tregally, to help all the children of all the impoverished miners better themselves and escape the cycle they were born into. Perhaps a few here in London too, as lord only knew the hordes of shoeless ragamuffins needed some hope for their futures. And, and this one was the closest to his heart, a proper hospital to care for the tortured people like his mother. One nothing like the horrific and harsh places like Mill House and Bedlam, but instead one run along similar lines to Brislington House where the patients would be treated with dignity and compassion. One that would likely cost a fortune so it was just as well he had one.
Feeling slightly better about his inheritance, especially because his plans for it would have both his callous brother and indifferent father spinning in their graves, he ran his finger down theBs, taking in the company names and trying to recall what they all did.
Bright & Knowles £100
Broughton Imports £750 10s
Burstead Shipping £423 9s 6d...
Luke flipped to the next page.
Crocker & Co...
He laughed without humour.
So that was where he had got that blasted name from! He apparently owned a quarter-share in the company. Who knew? Not that he had any clue what the blighters did still.
Crudgeley, Whippet and Runt...
A ridiculous name for a company if there ever was one.
Davis Lamp Oil...
Finally, one whose name made perfect sense. His eyes took in the huge chunk ofDs and he frowned. So manyDs but only twoCs? How peculiar.
Assuming he had missed a page, he flicked backwards and huffed because he had.
Caledonian Canal Company...
Thatwasa company name he fully approved of.
Cattons £40 2s 6d
Century Holdings...
It was anybody’s guess what they held on to.
Charteris Insurance...
Citizen Bank...
And then he saw it.
Slap bang in the middle of the page.
Cooper and Son £624 4s 9d
Chapter Seventeen
It was shortly after breakfast that Mr Cooper’s note arrived saying that he had had a change of heart. As much as it delighted her to knowPhantasmawould now be published with the name Hope Brookes on the front, her heart was too full already to care quite as much about this achievement as she thought she would. While her parents crowed and congratulated her, her fingers kept touching the precious letter she had stowed in her pocket and her thoughts kept drifting to the man who had left it on her balcony with another bunch of handpicked yellow roses.
