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But Caroline probably didn’t share that dream. Arabella was starting to wonder if she knew her as well as she thought she did.
Now, nothing would ever be the same.
With a deep sigh, she pushed herself out of the swing and went inside to help Rachel with the chores.
* * *
Caroline’s head was swimming in all the details that the solicitor, Mr. Jones, had outlined for them as they sat around the table in the dining room. The same table where she hauled out the ledger every week and made her careful calculations about what they could and could not afford.
Today the table had been littered with legal documents and numbers and clauses. It had made her head hurt far more than it ever had when doing the weekly sums. Mr. Jones had even brought the family Bible with him, the front page covered in faint spideryhandwriting detailing generations of Reeves and ending with their father’s name at the bottom. She opened the book again and traced the names of those unknown relatives with her finger. It was shocking to see on paper that her familybelongedsomewhere other than Inverley.
The result was the same as what Mr. Taylor had stated yesterday. The title was indeed Jacob’s. The estate in Somerset was small but doing well. They had a fortune to their name, the details of which were a blur to Caroline, but it was clear that they would not need to worry for money ever again.
Mr. Jones packed the papers into his leather satchel, and Betsy and Susan and Jacob were bouncing with glee. It was unmannerly.
“Will you come for dinner tonight, Mr. Jones?” Caroline asked. “I shall extend an invitation to Mr. Taylor and his secretary as well, of course.” That would outnumber the men to the women by one, so she would also have to ask Arabella to dinner. She was glad to have an opportunity to show Arabella how strange the entire situation was.
“I should be delighted. Thank you, Miss Reeve. I look forward to it.”
After he left, Betsy let out a high-pitched screech. “We are even richer than I imagined!”
“Iam richer, you mean,” Jacob said with a grin. “It’s my fortune as the heir, is it not?”
“You won’t let your sisters starve,” Caroline scolded him with a swat to his arm.
She tried to hide it from her siblings, but she felt uneasy. She hadn’t enjoyed it, but she was accustomed to handling the finances for the family. Now it was in Jacob’s hands, and he was barely twenty-one.
She had never relied on anyone to help take care of the family. She had prided herself on doing as much by herself as she could. What would become of her now? What was her role in the family if they didn’t need her to provide for them? A spinster running her family affairs while her brothers and sisters grew up had a place of importance. But if her brother was now to take the reins, and if they had a whole new array of Reeve cousins to help, would she be relegated to some relative’s attic?
That was Arabella’s situation, after all. Although it worked out well enough for her, Caroline didn’t know if she would be able to endure the same.
She pushed aside the fear that had her feeling nauseous and told herself to steel her spine. She would have to find another way to make sure she kept her promise to take care of them all, even if everything had turned topsy-turvy.
Caroline took a piece of paper and scrawled a missive across it.
“Betsy, please take this invitation to the inn and invite Mr. Taylor and his secretary to dinner.”
“I am not a maid!” she cried. “Send Maisie to town instead.”
Maisie was their only servant, and there was far too much work for her to handle in a household of six Reeves. They were all accustomed to helping around the household, and Caroline felt a pulse of annoyance that Betsy seemed to feel too important now to run errands. She narrowed her eyes at her.
“Maisie is tending to dinner. Unless you would prefer to peel potatoes and chop carrots?”
She sulked, crossing her arms over her chest. “No.”
“You usually leap at the opportunity to go to town. Go.”
Grumbling, she slammed the front door as she left.
Jacob grinned and leaned back in his chair, propping his booted legs up on the table. “I could have gone.”
“Jacob Reeve, get those boots off this table!”
Caroline shoved his legs and he laughed as he got up.
“I know, I know. I couldn’t resist, Caro. Lord of the manor and everything, am I not?”
His boyish enthusiasm was catching, and she smiled. “You’ve earned your own errand now. Go next door and invite Arabella to dinner, would you?”
