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Betsy frowned at her. “That is because all that falls from your lips is censure or a scold.”
It stung, but she took a moment and thought about their recent interactions. “I deserved that,” she said. She took a deep breath. “But ever since you had that fever, when Mama and Papa died, I have been so terrified of not doing right by you. You were spared. It felt like a miracle to me, and so I always wanted the very best for you. But I’mrealizing now that what I think is right might not be the same as what you would choose for yourself.”
“I always knew you were looking out for me,” Betsy muttered, her eyes averted. “But I want a different life than you do, Caro. I don’t care about money and reputation.” She rose from the chair and flopped on her back on the bed beside Caroline. “I want late nights andromance. I want to laugh with my friends and do interesting things. Most importantly, I need a life filled with art.”
“You believe you could have that with Mr. Graham?”
“Yes.” She sighed out the word, her voice full of longing. Her face shone like a martyr. “He writes the most incredible verse I have ever read.”
“Better than Byron?” Caroline teased with a smile.
“Much! He is a marvel. To share my life with that kind of brilliance would be…oh, it would be magic.”
“He said some impressive things about you as well,” Caroline said.
Betsy smiled and ducked her head. “I have some talent for poetry. No one has ever read it but him, but he tells me it’s very good.”
Caroline smiled at her. “Then why should you not have your heart’s desire? Mr. Graham would be a fine husband for you.”
“Truly, Caro? You are the best of sisters!” Betsy tackled her into a hug.
At least she had brought happiness to someone. Caroline took comfort from the thought.
* * *
Matthew came in the front door with a handful of letters. “I was just at the post office, and here’s a letter from my business acquaintance in Somerset.”
Arabella blinked. She had forgotten about the inquiries regarding Mr. Taylor. For all that she told herself that the Reeve family’s business no longer mattered to her, she couldn’t help but be curious.
“What news does he have of Mr. Taylor?” Rachel asked.
Matthew took up his penknife and slid it through the envelope. “Let’s see.” He unfolded the letter and frowned. “Well. This is unexpected.”
“What it is?” Arabella blurted out, unable to stop herself.
“Hmmm. It seems Mr. Taylor is not well liked in his home county.”
“Thatisunexpected,” Rachel said. “I found him charming.”
“Why is he not liked?”
“Mr. Richardson is not a man to spread gossip,” Matthew said, folding up the letter and shoving it back into the envelope. “All he says is that Mr. Taylor owes some debts.”
“That is no surprise,” Arabella said slowly. “He lost his inheritance before he came to Inverley.”
“This seems to be a long-standing issue, going back some years.”
“Years?” Arabella frowned. This didn’t make sense.
After Matthew and Rachel departed to pay a visit on a neighbor, Arabella took up the letter and read it through. It was altogether odd. Mr. Taylor’s debts stemmed from gambling.
Like Jacob’s had.
Hadn’t Mr. Taylor been playing cards with Jacob the night of the Reeve’s dinner party?
Jacob had lost the money to another young man of fashion, but it had been a gentleman that no one had heard of before that night, and who had left Inverley the next morning.
The coincidence was most unusual.
