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“Someone with an income, Margaret. You’re all that I have left.”
Margaret’s chin trembled. “What do you mean that I’m all that you have left?”
“There’s no more money, Margaret. It’s nearly gone. I can barely keep the cook and Jane. If you are to marry someone of means, then I can get myself out of this disaster.”
There was only one question that Margaret could ask. “But… what of my dowry?”
The viscount froze, seemingly not wanting to answer this question. “It has dwindled but not extinguished. If we find someone… perhaps a widowed man who is older in years, he will take you for your charm instead of your dowry.”
Margaret’s hair stood on end at the mere mention of this. Marry someone much older than herself? Was that what her father was implying? If so, it would turn Margaret’s stomach, for she wished to marry a gentleman for love, above all else.
“Father, there must be another way,” Margaret reasoned.
“What do you suggest?”
“Perhaps… sell Pelham Downs. We could find a charming cottage somewhere.”
Her father appeared indignant. “Sell Pelham Downs? Have you lost your mind, young lady? I am Viscount Bolton, owner of Pelham downs. You are my only daughter, Margaret. You must understand that you shall not inherit my title, but you will inherit this property. I’m hoping that that will offer enough appeal to the man that takes your hand.”
The man that takes her hand? What about the hand that Margaret takes? Her father made it sound as though she would be lucky to have a man give into her father’s request. It was all so ghastly and unsavory that Margaret stood from her chair.
“Father, I don’t need to inherit Pelham Downs. There have been many happy memories here, but I fear that it only reminds me of Mother.”
“What did I tell you about mentioning her?” Viscount Bolton asked. “Do you want to make the situation any more trying than it has already been? We are to forget about the past and live in the moment. And that requires you to take a husband. I cannot afford to bring you to the season in town, so we must find someone near Farthington. There are plenty of great houses and persons of distinction. I merely must wrap my head around who would be the most suitable selection and how you might endear yourself to him.”
Margaret had the mind to get up from her seat and remove herself from the study instantly. Oh, how she wished to run outside into the field and never look back! There, amidst the sunshine and clean air, Margaret could taste her freedom once more and be done with the viscount’s unsavory habits.
Sadly, none of this was possible. Margaret was aware of her duty to her father, and since he had just expressed that she was to be his last hope, she knew that she could not abandon him in his time of need, however much she wished it.
Margaret exhaled mournfully, gazing at the grandfather clock that was situated by the window. It informed her that they were twenty minutes late for tea, not that punctuality had any meaning any longer at Pelham Downs.
“Father, let us discuss this more anon. I fear that I need some nourishment.” What Margaret most decidedly needed was a cup of tea to help quicken her mind.
“Yes, we shall discuss more. I need something to go with this.” The viscount motioned towards his brandy, which was nearly gone.
After they had made their way to the tearoom, Margaret noted that familiar selection of cold sandwiches. Hot food was never served at tea, primarily due to the expense. And there were often times when the leftover sandwiches were served for supper. No wonder Margaret was so thin. If only she enjoyed cold sandwiches as much as Jane did.
The tearoom was silent, but the light that cascaded in through the windows was transfixing. The cook—who also served as their footman—entered to replenish the tea and bring the viscount more brandy, which he drank copiously. Margaret gave Jane a withering glance, and she saw that same stoic expression upon Jane’s face, as though she did not pay any mind to the viscount’s conduct.
“I, for one, am very fond of these salmon sandwiches,” Jane said, taking a hearty bite.
Margaret replied, “Yes, they are rather appealing.”
The viscount said nothing, and Margaret found herself grateful that Jane was allowed to dine with them, as otherwise, there would be no one to talk to. But the memory of the conversation in the study lingered, and Margaret found that she was filled with uneasy nerves. Must she be married so soon? She didn’t feel as though it was the right time. Margaret still had so many things that she wished to pursue, and she enjoyed her freedom heartily. Now would be the time for all of that to come to an end. What’s more, Margaret would have to say a prayer that Jane would come along with her wherever she went.
These thoughts were silenced once the viscount spoke. “Margaret, are you familiar with Lord Darkmoor?”
“The baron?” Margaret asked.
“Indeed. He is the sort of fellow that I was referring to. He is widowed and has a lovely estate nearby.”
Margaret felt the sandwich in her mouth turn to chalk. Lord Darkmoor had to be her father’s age. Oh, it was terrible to think that her father might marry her off to someone that was a colleague of his. How desperate was the viscount to suggest such a thing?
Jane appeared confused, as she knew nothing about the discussion that had gone on in the study. Margaret finally replied, “Don’t you think him… unsuitable, Father?”
“Why should he be unsuitable?” The viscount took another sip of his brand.
“He’s rather old in years.”
