AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I had not noticed that they had stopped. Were they working during brunch?” Harriet asked, frowning.
“I didn’t notice either. I was more interested in being reunited with my best friend,” Rose said playfully.
Harriet smiled distractedly. “It is the middle of the day and the repairs are important. There is a veritable river flowing through the third-floor library from the leaking roof. This worries me. Rose, would it be terrible of me to want to speak to Simon to find out what is happening?”
Rose grimaced but linked her arm with Harriet’s.
“A terrible imposition. But let’s do it anyway. You will not be happy until the mystery is solved.”
She laughed and the merry tinkle of the familiar sound brought a genuine smile to Harriet’s lips. Rose had always had the knack of doing that, which was precisely why she did it. As they walked back to the house, their abortive stroll in the gardens ended, and Rose leaned close.
“Is it really bad, Harry? The…um…situation?”
She looked worried and Harriet had no desire to lie to her in order to spare her concerns.
“Simon and I do our best to keep it from Eleanor but…every day seems to bring fresh evidence of papa’s cavalier attitude to money. And the pit we are sliding into gets a little deeper,” Harriet said.
“Oh dear. And I thought Lord Worthingham was such an adept businessman. My own papa was immensely proud that I was attending the same finishing school as the daughter of Worthingham. He always respected the ability to make money over all things.”
Rose made a face to show her opinion of such an attitude. Harriet sighed.
“Papa was a good and kind man. Too kind it seems. What he made through his estates and businesses, he lost through his charitable spirit. Simon is practically tearing his hair out.”
Rose squeezed her friend's arm in an attempt to comfort her. They entered the wide drawing room through French doors that looked out onto the patio. The room beyond was mostly shrouded by dust sheets, the majority of the furniture covered as the room was part of a wing that Simon had closed, in order to allow some of the household staff to be released. Harriet had a master key and had intended to show Rose the south aspect until she remembered the sorry state of the house.
They hurried through the high-ceilinged room with its ceiling of chandeliers and elaborate plaster moldings. The wallpaper was a fine silk print of turquoise and gold, and the carpet, a royal blue. It had been Lord and Lady Worthingham’s favorite room. Passing through and locking the door behind them, the two women walked along hallways with bare patches on the walls, where pictures had been sold.
Finally, crossing the still-grand entrance hall and entering the Breakfast Room, they came across the new Lord Worthingham of Erdington. Simon had fair hair and a round face with blue eyes. His face was creased in concentration. One hand held a coffee cup with the air of having forgotten it was there. The other lay across a document filled with tight-packed columns of figures. His eyes darted back and forth.
“Simon, dear. Where are the workmen?” Harriet asked.
“God’s blood but I would like there to be one person in this house who does not ask me that question. They have downed tools because I cannot pay them!” Simon snarled.
Rose stopped short, a hand going to her mouth. Harriet put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow challengingly. Simon colored, putting down his coffee cup and then cursing as the liquid sloshed over the rim of the china.
“My apologies, cousin. And to you, Miss Mantell. I am somewhat distracted. There is a minor cash flow problem that I will resolve.”
Harriet’s face softened and she glanced at Rose, suddenly acutely aware that Simon would not wish to be forthcoming about money worries in front of a stranger. At least, Rose was a stranger to him, if not to Harriet.
“I’m sorry too, Simon. I should have known that you would be hard at work on the problem. You don’t need us cluttering up the place.”
“Actually, I was going to call you in anyway,” Simon said, standing from the table at which he had been sitting and crossing the room to the mantlepiece.
A white envelope had been placed behind the clock which stood there. He took it out and offered it to Harriet.
“Your invitation,” Simon told her.
Harriet frowned. “My invitation to what?”
“We all have one. The Duke of Wrexham is throwing a ball and you, I, and Eleanor are all invited.”
“Oh, how lucky you are Harry. The Duke of Wrexham is one of the wealthiest men in England. And the most sought after. Why, every Lord with an eligible daughter wants to marry her off to him. I had no idea you knew the Bolton family.”
Bolton was the family name of the Dukes of Wrexham. Rose crowded in eagerly to get a look at the invitation, which Harriet carefully removed from the envelope. It was written on stiff, white card with gold lettering in an exquisite hand.
“I didn’t realize we did either,” Harriet said, looking questionably at Simon.
He simply shrugged. “I have a passing acquaintanceship with the family. I will not look a gift horse in the mouth. We are invited and it could be the perfect opportunity to make some important connections. Everyone who is anyone will be there,” Simon said.
