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In the morning, however, when her mother and aunt awaited her on a united front, Jane's words suddenly made sense.
At the kitchen table Bess poured herself a cup of milk and took a hearty bite of bread and cheese. The food stuck in her throat as she heard her mother's words. “Bess, we have a plan. Our affairs are inextricably tied to the Barlows', and the way out of both families' troubles is for you to marry Robert.”
Bess laughed, but there was little mirth in it. “What are you talking about?”
Marcella took over the conversation. “Arthur Barlow is going to die, and since Robert is a minor, the Court of Wards will take the Barlow farm and lands until he is twenty-one. That's six long years away.”
It will be a miracle if Rob sees twenty-one, Bess thought sadly.
“If Robert is a married man when he inherits, it puts a different complexion on things. The Court of Wards cannot touch a bride's portion, for one thing. That is a one-third value of the estate. When an underage heir is a married man, all falls into confusion and the Court is often more lenient.”
“I cannot marry Robert; he's just a boy!” Bess said, outraged.
“He's fifteen, a year past the age of legal consent for a man,” Marcella pointed out gently.
“No, no! The Barlows must get a lawyer to draw up a will for Arthur, leaving the farm and land to be administered by trustees.” Bess repeated what Cavendish had told her. “It will be legally protected.”
“Mistress Barlow cannot afford lawyers, and who in the world could be trusted to leave land to? Bess, darling, it breaks my heart to ask you to give up your ambitions and make this great sacrifice to help your family. I know how grand your dream is, but it is just wishful thinking, my love. I beg you to be practical,” said Marcella.
“We've talked at length with Mistress Barlow, and she agrees not to press charges for the money Ralph owes, if you agree to the marriage, Bess,” her mother said quietly.
“But I told you, I'll give her the money.”
“Bess, the debt is twice as much as you have.”
When a shilling represented a week's wages, Bess suddenly realized the seriousness of their debt. “What about Ralph's father? Can't Ralph get the money from Sir Francis?” she asked desperately.
“The Leches are so hard-pressed for money, they are trying to sell Chatsworth. Their land holdings are vast, running all the way from Bakewell to Chesterfield, but most of it is useless wild moorland.”
“I'll speak with Mistress Barlow today. I'll persuade her not to press charges,” Bess said adamantly. “Marriage is out of the question!”
“Bess, it is high time you were wed. You've had a whole year in London and still have no prospects.”
“I do have a prospect, I do!” Bess was vehement. “He's an important man of the Court—one of the king's auditors.”
She saw their pitying, skeptical looks. “I shall write to him immediately,” she vowed desperately.
Marcella felt torn in half at Bess's desperation. She wished with all her heart that another way could be found to aid her sister and her husband. Marcella touched Elizabeth's arm, and they withdrew to a corner of the kitchen for a hurried consultation. Then her aunt came to Bess and put a comforting arm about her shoulders. “Write your letter, child. I hope and pray you get the answer you are wishing for. If your knight in shining armor comes to your rescue, or sends a written proposal offering for you, your parents will consider him. But he'd better hurry up,” she admonished gently. “Time is running out for the Barlows and for us.”
