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“Lord Darkmoor?” John didn’t recall hearing the name.
“Indeed. That is the fellow that the viscount wishes her to marry. I hear that he is a dreadful man, but all the same, her father needs the funds.”
So, the truth had finally come out. The viscount was marrying his daughter off for money. John was never the sort of fellow that dreamt of having considerable funds in his pocket, but at that moment, he did wish for that so that he might save Margaret from her demise.
John pulled his hand through his hair and considered the most judicious words to use. “This is what she could not speak of yesterday.”
“Indeed. It vexes her, and I know why. Who would wish to marry someone that old?”
“That old?” The situation was getting more horrific by the second.
“Indeed. Lord Darkmoor is nearly the age of her father. Oh, it’s just ghastly if you ask me, but how can it be prevented?” Jane’s voice became hushed. “The viscount is almost entirely bereft of money. This has been going on for some time. I believe that all that he has left is Margaret’s dowry, and he’ll probably secure a contract in which that dowry will be returned to him upon the completion of the nuptials.”
“So, Margaret is his ticket to freedom?”
“That is how it appears, yes.”
John knit his jaw in frustration. If he were to be honest with himself, he was considerably angry hearing all of this. Then, releasing a steady exhalation, John gazed towards Pelham Downs, constricting his brow, and tried to surmise a plan.
Jane went on, “I understand if you have affections for her. Margaret is uniquely beautiful, and what’s more, she is a wonderful friend and companion. But do not fill your head with silly notions that anything can become of that, and also, do not fill Margaret’s head with any notions! Sadly, she must embrace her fate.”
John was beginning to wonder how much he and his sister truly shared in common. Her comment did not smack him in the least of being true. For John, he always felt that fate was something that one created and not a law that was adhered to. In fact, so fiercely did John hold onto his independence in life that he was quite sure that he would never give in to anything that did not breed happiness in his breast.
He fell silent, turning contemplative. Jane continued to eat her sandwich, and John wondered how she could be so casual about the whole ordeal. This was not what he expected from his sister, and it dawned on him that, although Jane would disapprove, John had the mind to share his full thoughts with Margaret, if only to give her some measure of comfort.
The rest of their time in the field, they both waited to see if Margaret might return. When she did not, John’s frustration turned into fear. What was going on inside that estate? Had Margaret been locked in her room? From everything that he had heard that day, he would not be surprised in the least.
“Where shall you stay tonight, Brother?”
“In Margaret’s room.”
Oh, it was a ghastly bit of humor, and Jane was having none of it!
“How dare you?”
“It was a joke, Jane. I shall find an inn in Farthington.”
“Now that your true feelings for Margaret have been revealed, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did stay in Farthington for some time.” Jane elevated her brow. “I shall keep a close eye on you.”
“That won’t be necessary.” John got up from the ground and put out his hand to help Jane up. Once they were both on their feet, he gazed at Pelham Downs once more and shook his head. “I’ll be going. With all luck, they will have a room to let.”
“Come back tomorrow and tell me how you got on.”
“I shall.”
With that, Jane picked up the picnic basket, and John folded the blanket, handing it to her. As Jane departed, John went to secure his horse, and off he fled to town. During the ride, John could tell why it was that Margaret remarked that Farthington was so pleasant. He, himself, found it to be charming and quaint. And that was why, when he discovered Westerly House, he alighted from his horse and went inside to speak with the proprietor.
“Have you a room to let?” John asked.
The portly man behind the desk peered at John through his spectacles. “Indeed, young man. It is two shillings.”
“I can manage that.”
“Do you care for a room facing the street or the garden?” the proprietor asked, rummaging through some keys.
John smiled to himself. He had a very good feeling about Westerly House already. “The garden will suffice.”
“Very well.”
John was escorted to his room, and once the door was open, he stepped inside and grinned from ear to ear. To him, this room was perfect.
