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Chapter 9
Olivia followed her grandfather into the parlour. He closed the door behind them. Her mother was seated near the mantelpiece. She looked pensive and slightly uneasy. Olivia felt another shiver of apprehension.
“Sit down, Olivia,” said Grandpapa.
She did as she was told, sitting opposite her mother. Her grandfather sat beside her mother. They both stared at her.
“What?” she burst out. “What is happening?”
Her grandfather sighed heavily. “Olivia, what were you talking about with Captain Fletcher just now?”
“Nothing really,” she replied, flushing. “I just encountered him walking the garden. That is all.” She hesitated. “Why is he walking the garden alone? Who is he and why is he here?”
Her grandfather looked relieved. He turned to her mother. “She does not know yet. Thank the Lord.” He turned back to Olivia. “I went to fetch you for this talk, but you were not in the house. That was when I saw you in the garden talking with him. It is beyond time for you to know what is going on, Olivia, but you have caught me by surprise with this. I was not expecting you and your mother back from London so soon.”
“That is my fault,” said Lady Henrietta, biting her lip. “I do apologise, Reginald.”
“It is no matter now, Hetty,” he said. “It has just all run away from me a bit.”
“Will one of you just tell me what is going on?” cried Olivia, feeling really alarmed now.
Her grandfather sighed again. “I wanted time alone with Captain Fletcher here because it is important, Olivia. You see, he is going to become the next Earl of Weaver.”
Olivia thought she had misheard him. “What did you say?”
“You heard correct,” said her mother, her eyes wide. “I was as shocked as you, Olivia.”
“Captain Fletcher is a distant relative,” continued her grandfather. “The grandson of my second cousin. I discovered his existence just a month ago and wrote to him, explaining the situation, that I want to make him my heir.”
Olivia’s head started spinning. She still could not believe it. She had grown up with the belief that there was no heir to the earldom, that it would die along with her grandfather. She thought that he had no other family at all beyond her. To hear that the insufferably rude man who was here—thatstranger—was suddenly going to inherit the title and estate was simply too much.
It would mean that he would inherit Essington Manor when her grandfather died. And while it was a relief to think that the house would not be sold off—that there would be another Earl of Weaver residing here—it was also deeply disturbing. Olivia felt like her whole world had tilted upside down and sideways.
A small kernel of anger knotted in her stomach. The man was a stranger to them, not part of the family at all, even if he had some Oakley blood. And he was a common man. Uncouth, rude, and abrupt. He had talked to her in such a patronising way. And she could not forget what he had said to her now, after she had threatened to tell her grandfather how he had spoken to her.
Do your worst, my lady. For I think you are about to discover that I shall always be welcome at Essington Manor and that you do not control me nor everything around you.
Olivia’s eyes glittered with hopeless tears. It was insufferable to think that mandidhave the power to speak to her like that. As the heir to the earldom, he was going to outrank her. And he knew it. That was why he had felt he could talk to her in that condescending way. That was why he had been walking the grounds alone, as if he owned them. Because hewouldown them one day.
Perhaps it would be better if Essington Manor was sold off rather than belong to him.
Her mother stood up, walking over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what you are feeling, my love.”
Olivia took a deep, ragged breath. “I do not know how I am feeling. I am shocked. I knew something was happening but did not suspect this.”
“We all know that the inheritance should all go to you, Olivia,” said her grandfather gently. “But I cannot by law give it to you. I would if I could. If it were possible, you would be the next Countess of Weaver and inherit it all.” He shrugged helplessly. “This is the next best thing, my dear. The title shall not die with me and the bearer of it has Oakley blood running in his veins, even if it is faint.”
Olivia frowned. “I suppose so. But he is a stranger and a common man. What if he dishonours the title, brings it into disrepute? He could be a gambler, a rake, anything.”
“I believe he is an honourable man,” said her grandfather. “I have gotten to know him over the last few days, and I am impressed with him. He is used to being in command. He is also clever and vibrant. I have faith that he will assume the role with grace and not bring it into disrepute.”
Olivia pursed her lips. She wanted to tell them how the man had spoken to her, but she was not sure any longer. Her grandfather looked so pleased and her mother quietly hopeful. She knew this was the answer to all their prayers and she should be celebrating along with them.
“There is one more thing, Olivia,” said her grandfather, in a hesitant voice. “I would like you to marry him and become the next Countess of Weaver.”
Olivia jumped to her feet. “What?”
Her heart was pounding hard, and she felt sick. He could not make her do it. Hemustnot make her do it.
