Laura Carroll Butler Read online

  “Your mother,” the Earl said. All his life, his father had never spoken of her. “You look so like her.” His words were labored, but earnest. “I could never make her happy. So she left us.”

  Michael said nothing.

  *************************

  There was a mortgage already on the estate.

  “If you can find someone to take over the mortgage, the furnishings could be sold at auction to pay your father’s bills and the taxes,” Vaughn informed Michael.

  It was not the information he had hoped for. “Is there nothing beyond the estate, stocks or holdings of any sort?” he asked.

  “It’s all gone, spent. I am sorry.” His tone was contrite.

  Michael was stunned. “I should have come to you earlier,” was all he thought to say.

  “It would not have mattered. The estate was mortgaged before your father became ill. He has been liquidating what he can for years.”

  “I knew it was bad. I just didn’t realize how bad.” Michael thought quickly. “My trust? From my mother?”

  “It’s depleted. He used the money for your education. I understand, though, that you are making a name for yourself as a writer. With proper money management you should be comfortable.”

  Proper money management. Comfortable. Odd how money had always been a given and he’d treated it with the same casualness he treated woman. It meant nothing beyond the immediate satisfaction it gave him. Now he found himself genuinely afraid at being broke. “I suppose we will need to see about finding a buyer for the estate,” he finally said.

  Vaughn smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure that will be no problem.”

  Chapter Nine

  Susanne sat impatiently in the theater. Rebecca wanted her to wait for the Edderles so they could arrive at the theater together. Looking down at the rowdy patrons below her box, she wished that she had listened.

  Michael had promised to write her, but no letter had come.

  She heard a rumor that he had run away with the daughter of the Duke of Sussex. Susanne didn’t think much of this as the young lady in question was afflicted with a tragic overbite. The Duke’s daughter turned up anyway at an abbey near Maidstone.

  Now after two weeks with no word, the familiar insecurity crept into her mind. Had she done something to drive him away, she wondered. His father must be very ill for him to be away for so long, but why didn’t he write? And what if he wasn’t really at Elysian Fields?

  She ruminated on her doubts as she waited for Rebecca and Davis to arrive. She hadn’t paid attention to the first act and was now hopelessly lost. Susanne scanned the other boxes and caught sight of Michael leaving one. At least it looked like him; the gentleman had the same dark hair and the same dashing and cavalier manner in his walk. She quickly left her box and breathlessly ran to catch up with him in the entrance hall.

  “Michael,” she called and touched the back of his arm. When he turned, she realized her mistake. “I’m sorry,” she said turning quickly; but she was not quick enough.

  “Miss Newland,” Perry Wilborn said and gently caught her hand, “How good to see you after all these years.” He smiled and kissed her hand.

  “Mr. Wilborn, my apologies. I thought you were someone else. A friend,” she stammered.

  He continued to hold her hand. “Well, I’m very sorry to disappoint you, though it is good to see you. I’ve thought of you often, Miss Newland. How long has it been?”

  She didn’t know how to remove her hand without yanking it away impolitely. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably. “It’s been five years,” she answered.

  Perry dropped her hand and smiled in chagrin. “I didn’t know it had been that long. Once Tristan and I lost touch…”

  “Mr. Wilborn, under the circumstances I must---“ she began.

  He sighed, charmingly and in great distress. “Yes, Miss Newland, I understand. I was a cad in my youth. I did some unforgivable things.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor at her own shame. “You did.”

  He lifted her chin. “I’m glad you mistook me for someone else.” She said nothing. “Good evening, Miss Newland.” He bowed and turned. Behind her, the noise of the crowd and the actors had reached a discordant crescendo. Perry was almost to the door when he turned and said, “I was on my way to a party at Lord Fellows. I don’t suppose you would like to join me.”

  Susanne thought about the rancor in the theater; Rebecca and Davis late again, probably lost in their own harmonious fog of love; and Michael, gone. Perry reached his hand out to her. Susanne took it.

  *************************

  She woke in a bed clothed a chemise and nothing else. Her head was pounding and she felt sick. A man’s arm was draped possessively across her chest. She thought, Michael, when she saw the tousle of dark hair. But when he opened his eyes, they were brilliantly blue in the candlelight.

  “Susanne,” Perry smiled and sighed contentedly.

  *************************

  A week later at a dinner party, she overheard two men talking about an estate in the north of London that was to be auctioned.

  “Elysian Fields,” she heard. Davis was a few seats closer, not part of the conversation, but he looked up immediately.

  “Earl Brooks’ home?” he asked.

  “Yes; I hear it’s been mortgaged for years.” Susanne had met the man speaking, a banker, Lord Something. He was pleasant looking, but a little dull. “The family solicitor contacted my manager as we hold the note on it. It’s a shame; I’m told it was a lovely estate once, but I am afraid it is desperate for a bit of repair.”

  “And the Earl is—“

  “Dying, but not yet dead. It is his son who has put it up for auction. It appears his inheritance will not cover the mortgage and he seems to never have been fond of the home.”

  “No, he never was,” Davis said to himself, but Lord Banker thought he was still speaking to him.

  “That’s right; he’s a friend of yours. You should consider it, Lord Edderle; it would make a splendid home for you and your wife; a rather nice project for her to make her mark.” Susanne had been listening so intently that she hadn’t heard her dinner companion’s question.

  “Excuse me, Miss Newland. I was asking you if you’d had an opportunity to…” He continued, but Susanne didn’t hear him. Davis was watching her as she listened in on his conversation.

  She was abrupt and terse the rest of the evening, anxious at the news of Michael and unable to ask any questions. Before she left for Martha’s home, she told Rebecca that she would come to her house for breakfast the next day.

  Davis had not left when she arrived the following morning. Susanne was desperate to ask him what he knew of Michael, but Rebecca kept the conversation light detailing her plans to remake the gardens at St. Clare’s Abbey. When Rebecca called for coffee in the sunroom, Davis excused himself.

  There was a cloth sample in the sunroom that Rebecca wanted Susanne to see. It was extravagant and gorgeous, but Susanne wasn’t interested.

  “I need your help, Rebecca. It’s Michael,” she said, her voice anxious enough to alarm Rebecca.

  “What has he done now?” she asked, taking Susanne’s hands in concern.

  “He’s done nothing. But he needs me, I know, and I don’t know where he is.”

  Rebecca let go of Susanne’s hands. “I don’t understand. How could he ‘need’ you?”

  “Before he left, for several weeks, we’ve been…spending time together.”

  “Good Lord, Susanne! You’re not—“

  “No, Rebecca. We’ve not…he’s been a gentleman with me.” She stood up and paced slowly.

  “Are you in love with him?” Rebecca asked, incredulously and a little condescending.

  “Yes. And he loves me. But he’s in trouble and I need to find him. I need to help him.”

  “I don’t understand, Susanne. What trouble is he in?

  “Money or something. I just know he need
s me and I don’t know how to find him.” Susanne was becoming more agitated.

  “Didn’t he tell you where he was going?” Rebecca asked calmly, trying to soothe her sister.

  “He said that he was going to see his father. He said he would write when he could, but he hasn’t. And last night, I overheard…his father’s estate is to be auctioned. His father is dying.” She paused to catch her breath. “But I don’t know where he is,” she finished, tears beginning to fall across her cheeks.

  Rebecca went to her sister and led her back to the sofa, trying to calm her while she digested all she’d heard. She didn’t know if it was genuine love or a schoolgirl crush or even if it was reciprocal. Had Michael dabbled with Susanne’s heart and then left her? “But I don’t know how I can help, Susanne,” she finally said.

  Susanne looked up and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “Davis knows how to find him. I need you to ask Davis. But,” she hesitated, “you can’t let him know I have asked.” Rebecca was silent, contemplating the request. “Davis doesn’t approve of me,” Susanne continued. “Michael never said that exactly, but he said words to that effect.”

  “That can’t be, Susanne. Davis has never treated you with anything but kindness.”

  “Please, just don’t tell him that I’ve asked.”

  “But I can’t lie or keep this from him. He’ll want to know why I’m asking. I can’t lie to my husband,” she protested. Rebecca was adamant and Susanne knew that nothing she could say would change her mind.

  “You won’t have to,” Davis said. Both women jumped at his voice. Susanne felt her face flush in embarrassment, wondering how much he had heard.

  As always, Rebecca calmly took control of the situation. “Davis, darling,” she said, taking his arm and leading him into the room. “Susanne was telling me of her concern for Michael and his father,” she said, lightly stroking the base of her throat.

  “I heard,” he said. He was staring at Susanne, but she couldn’t read his face; she could never read his face.

  “His father’s estate is in Bedfordshire, near a town called Wickingham. It’s less than a day’s coach ride from London.”

  Susanne jumped up and threw her arms around Davis. “Thank you, Davis. I can leave this afternoon, I’m sure!”

  “You can’t go alone,” Rebecca said. “Everyone will talk.”

  “Then come with me, Rebecca, please.”

  “I can’t go. I have appointments with the upholsterer and seamstress that I can’t just cancel.”

  “It’s cloth, Rebecca. I need you to be with me,” she pleaded.

  There was something in Susanne’s voice that suddenly irritated Rebecca. It was typical of Susanne to make everything about her. She could never get through to Susanne that other people’s lives and time were just as important as hers. And for all her drama, Rebecca just couldn’t believe that Michael, careless with love Michael, could seriously be in love with Susanne. But before she could say all this to her sister, Rebecca heard Davis say, “I’ll take you to Michael.”

  *************************

  Davis decided that he and Susanne would leave in his coach the following morning. The rest of the day, Rebecca wanted to confront Davis with the impropriety of his traveling alone with her sister. She considered canceling her appointments, but her timetable for renovating the manor house was fixed by the weather; delays in making decisions would delay planting. Cloth had to be ordered for work to be completed before the Season ended. Already she was pressed for time and she would not allow any gossip that she was not up to the job of being the Lady Edderle of St. Clare’s Abbey.

  Supper plans were canceled as Davis and Rebecca ate at home. Conversation was stilted as neither wished to provoke an argument. But finally Rebecca could stand it no longer and said, “You know how Susanne can be, Davis. Do you believe that Michael is really in love with her?”

  Davis did not look up, but he twitched slightly, as though in pain. “Yes, I do,” he answered.

  Rebecca took a long sip of wine. “Why must you get involved in this?” she asked.

  He put down his knife and fork and gave Rebecca a look that was direct and firm indicating that he wished no further conversation on the subject. “Michael is my best friend. I have known him longer than anyone outside of my family, including you. When my mother died, he was there for me. He is in trouble now, so I hear, and if he needs my help, I want to give it to him. But if he only needs the support of the woman he loves, I want to make sure he has that. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to pack.”

  When he left, Rebecca was so mortified that she wanted to cry. But she swallowed the feeling, drained her glass of wine, had it refilled and sat in the drawing room.

  At breakfast, Rebecca was chipper. She smiled and put on her happy persona and Davis slowly warmed to her. Before he left he held her tight in his arms.

  “I know you are tense from all the work on the manor house, the gardens, getting ready for the season. When I’m back, maybe we can take a trip away and work on a baby.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Of course, Davis.”

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you, too.”

  **************************

  The ride to Wickingham began quietly. So much had been said the previous day, but more had been left unsaid. Susanne didn’t know why Davis had agreed to accompany her; she would have expected him to journey alone.

  “I know you overheard Lord Cavanaugh discussing the auction of the estate,” Davis said to break the silence.

  “I gathered a little. Michael’s father is in debt. And Michael doesn’t want the family home.”

  “That really is all of it. After he came to Harrow, he didn’t spend much time at his home. He spent his holidays with my family or traveling. His father is, um, not what you would expect from a father. He’s more like a friend or companion.”

  “And Michael’s mother?”

  “She left when he was a child. I believe that she remarried, but had no other children. Michael received a letter from her solicitor when he was 21 informing him that he had come of age to receive the inheritance she had left him.”

  “When did she die?”

  “I don’t think he really knows.”

  “The poor thing. No wonder he’s led the life he has, afraid to hold on to anyone for too long.” She paused. “Except for you.”

  “I believe that I have loved Michael Brooks more than anyone else has until now.”

  Susanne considered this for a moment. “I’m so afraid that he won’t see me or that he will try to send me away.”

  “Leave that to me,” Davis reassured.

  **************************

  Shortly after noon, a note arrived at Elysian Fields. “Michael, I am at Gidley’s Pub. Please meet me here at 2:00. Davis”.

  Michael initially wondered why Davis was there. He surmised that he had heard about the auction and thought he could help in someway. It was so like to Davis to try to make everything better. Still, he was happy to see his friend and have someone to talk to that he trusted.

  They greeted each other as though decades had passed, then sat down to a pint.

  “So you have heard,” Michael began.

  “Yes; your father is dying.”

  Michael arched an eyebrow. “Is that all that you’ve heard?”

  “It’s all that matters.”

  They sat in silence both mourning in their own way, not the loss of a father, but the loss of what their own father should have been.

  “He should have been dead a week ago. I don’t know what he’s holding onto,” Michael said.

  “Is he in pain?”

  “Yes.”

  Davis placed his hand on Michael’s. “I’m sorry,” he said and quickly let go. He took a long drink then said, “Susanne has asked about you.”

  “Susanne? What has she heard?”

  “At a dinner party, Edmund Cavanaugh was discussing the mortgage on the estate. She overheard an
d she was concerned because you had apparently gone without sending her a message.” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he saw Michael bristle.

  “I wrote her before I left,” he said.

  “Why did you keep all this from me? From Rebecca?” Davis asked unable to keep the sound of accusation out of his voice.

  “Keep what from you? My father dying? My bleak financial situation? Or Susanne? Which bothers you more, Davis?” Michael’s voice rose as he spoke and the few other patrons turned to them in curiosity.

  Davis calmly answered, “It’s you I’m concerned about, Michael. But even Rebecca didn’t know about you and Susanne.”

  “What does it matter to either of you?” The comfort that he’d felt when he first learned Davis was in Wickingham was gone. “You shouldn’t have come, Davis, if all you intended was to make me feel guilty for not confiding all my secrets to you,” he angrily said.

  “I didn’t come alone.” He paused then added, “I brought Susanne.” He tried to calmly sip his ale, but Michael’s accusations had shaken his composure. He waited for Michael to turn on him again, but he instead slumped in his chair.

  “Why?” he wearily asked.

  “Because she loves you and you love her. And right now, you need her more than you realize,” Davis answered simply.

  “I think of nothing but her. But once my father’s estate is sold and his debts are paid, there will be nothing left. I cannot give her the life she wants.”

  “Have you asked her what she wants?”

  “Don’t be so simple, Davis. Every woman aspires to society and wealth.” Look at Rebecca, look at Johanna, he wanted to say, but thought better of it.

  “I don’t think that life is as important to Susanne.”

  Michael was silent in contemplation. “You shouldn’t have brought her. I won’t see her; I will only hurt her eventually.”

  “It would hurt her more if you didn’t see her.” Then Davis said with a smile, “She is upstairs in the second room on the left. It’s my room while I am here, so please don’t get too comfortable,” he added. “Go to her.”

  Without another word, Michael left Davis. He knocked and entered before Susanne could answer. She was sitting on the bed, still in her travel clothes. He went to her and sat beside her, gently pulling her gloves off to touch her warm skin. He had forgotten how soft her hands were, yet still so strong and capable of easing his sadness.