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He worked through the trunks on the left side first, working his way toward her, calling out the clothing and various keepsakes of his ancestors and whether he wanted to keep the item, sell it or have it disposed of. He then found half a dozen portraits of noble men and women, and wondered aloud why they wouldn’t be hanging up in the portrait gallery downstairs.
“Perhaps they have scandalous pasts,” Matilda suggested.
“It’s possible. Perhaps someday, some young fellow will be up here again and find my portrait among the rest,” Arthur chuckled. “Poor devil. I wouldn’t envy him the task.”
He also uncovered several old gowns from sixty or seventy years ago that had been perfectly preserved in the airtight trunks. When Matilda saw the dresses, her eyes grew wide. It gave him an idea.
“I don’t suppose you could use these? Cut them up and use the cloth to make new gowns?” he offered. “For now, I mean. I plan to have a dressmaker come soon.”
“Perhaps only some minor alterations might be required to make them wearable again,” she said. He gathered up the silk and satin gowns and set them in an empty trunk by the stairs for later. Then he returned to his inventory.
By the time they were done, all that remained was the trunk Matilda was sitting on. She rushed to move off it before he could pick her up again. They knelt side by side as he opened the chest. It was full of letters bound with blue ribbons. He picked up one packet and stared at the ink, which had faded to a light brown.
“These have the seal of Devon Brynnwood, Bernard’s grandfather.” Arthur recognized the seal from old land records when he and Fulton had reviewed the papers in Bernard’s desk last week.
“If they’ve been kept, perhaps they are important?” Matilda suggested.
“Perhaps.” He thumbed through the nearest stack of letters and sighed. “I’ll read them later and have a footman collect the trunk of gowns and letters.”
They stood and he closed the trunk before he collected the remaining paper and ink. When they came back downstairs, it was late afternoon. They’d completely missed luncheon. Miss Wells sat in the drawing room, looking much better, and Arthur excused himself to let Matilda tend to her aunt. He had his great coat brought down, along with his hat and gloves, and called for his horse to be saddled. It was time to see what the local villagers were capable of when it came to cottage repairs.
* * *
Matilda retrievedthe newspaper from her room and discussed several articles with Aunt Florence that afternoon. She’d been told that Arthur had ridden into town, and she found herself both relieved at his absence and yet a little disappointed. It had been interesting and even amusing spending much of the day in his company when he wasn’t singularly focused on seducing her. She’d found him to be very clever, and he liked not only to laugh but to make her laugh as well. It was not at all what she’d expected from a man who’d been so coldly arrogant upon their first meeting.
By early evening her aunt, feeling tired, had gone up to bed and said she would take dinner in her room. Matilda was expecting to dine alone and thought perhaps she’d still be alone until Arthur walked into the dining room a few minutes later.
“My apologies,” he said as he took his appointed seat at the end of the table. A footman was quick to serve him a bowl of soup.
“Please do not apologize. I’m sure you had important business in the village.” She ate her soup primly, feeling more than a little annoyed at herself for actually missing him… a little, she quickly amended.
“I did, as it turns out,” he declared with pride. “I’ve found several workers to start repairing the cottage tomorrow.”
She stilled, her spoon half raised to her mouth. “So soon?”
“Yes, I thought perhaps it would be good to give the local men some employment this time of year. It turns out I was right in thinking they needed work. I thought I should be here to supervise at least the start of the repairs while I am here. Of course, I won’t pay them anything above the going rate for labor. I’m not so charitable as that.”
“Does that mean the cottage will be repaired much sooner than the spring?” That gave her a flash of hope. If they could avoid the winter drafts in January and February, she and Aunt Florence might avoid any other illnesses.
“I believe so, if these men I’ve hired are halfway decent in their skills.”
“Oh, I’d like to thank you for the paper this morning,” she added. “My aunt and I enjoyed reading it. I like to keep up with the latest financial reports and economic discussions, and she enjoys the discussion of the plays and the operas currently playing, not that she has ever seen one.”
Arthur’s brows rose. “I’m glad to hear that. You are welcome to the paper every day, once I am through with it.” He eyed her over the next course of food. “Pray tell, what interests you about the financial section?”
“I follow the consols, and enjoy researching new investment opportunities. I have no money, but I enjoy pretending that I invest in things and then track their outcomes.”
He leaned forward. He’d never heard of a woman speak about consols before. He knew what they were of course, the consols were short for “consolidated annuity bonds” that the bank of England issued. To hear a woman discuss financial matters was rather fascinating.
“Oh? And how are your pretend investments doing?” He seemed genuinely curious and not patronizing.
“Quite well. I’ve been focused on textiles. Cotton is growing rapidly due to the expansions of the mills in the north. I suspect soon it will dominate our exports in England.”
“Is it? I should pay more attention to such things.”
For the rest of dinner, they discussed everything from investments to the arts. Matilda asked him all manner of questions about London, from the museums and galleries to the bookshops and theaters. He even told her about a charming place called Gunter’s Ices that he enjoyed visiting in the warmer months.
Once they had finished dinner, Arthur offered to escort her to the library to collect some books to read that evening, which she readily agreed to.
