“Her only passion is fine jewelry. Chances are, instead of improving my fortunes, she will beggar me. You are my business manager. Surely you can manage to extract a little more profit from this estate? What if we should raise the rents?”
“Your Grace,” the fellow said, “Have you ever seen a peasant revolt?”
“No,” Darrius said.
“I have. Harvests have been poor the last two years, what with the strange weather and all. If you raise the rents, the farmers and shop keepers will begin to grow hungry. Hungry people become restless, then they revolt. I can assure you that raising the rents is the last thing you should do. Our people are already paying all they can.”
“Very well, no new carriage, no added wardrobe. I shall have to trust my man’s genius with starch and needle to get me through the next several months.”
“It would be the prudent course, Your Grace,” the solicitor said, folding up the account books, and preparing to retire to his office. “If I might be excused?”
“Go, go!” Darrius flapped a dismissive hand at him. “I do not know why I bothered to speak to you at all. You croak like an old crow.”
The solicitor wisely said nothing at all, merely folded up his books and went out the door.
Darrius glowered at the blotter on his desk. His father had always handled all the transactions himself, but Darrius had heard that gentlemen were better served to hire an expert in these matters. Thus far, the only result had been a curtailment of his personal spending allowance.
“I’ll go over to the Dower House and visit with my mother,” he said out loud to the empty room. “Perhaps I will at least be able to amuse myself by looking at the companion.”
And perhaps this time I will have better success luring her into one of the bedrooms.What ill fortune that the cook should happen along just at that particular moment. Although, I must admit, she looked more frightened than intrigued.
He did not voice the latter thought aloud, however. There were some things better left unsaid.
Darrius shrugged carelessly into his greatcoat without calling for his man. This rumpled the sleeves of his jacket, causing them to bunch and put him in a great deal of discomfort. He tugged down the sleeves, wriggling around to settle the layers of fabric, then jammed his hat upon his head and set off for the Dower House.
Outside, his mood improved somewhat. The walk from the Main House to the Dower House might not be quite as picturesque as his father’s account of Hillsworth, but it was a respectable panorama. Little bowers with benches were set at intervals along the way. In the distance, the plowmen were hard at work, and the fields were taking orderly shape.
It was a scene that suggested prosperity and well-being, which soothed his ruffled feelings a great deal. So much so, in fact, that he was in quite a jaunty mood by the time he entered his mother’s house and knocked on her drawing room door.
“Darrius!” she exclaimed with delight. “What an unexpected pleasure. Do come in and sit down. Mrs. Swinton, be a dear and run down to see what we might have in the way of a special tea.”
“It will be my pleasure, Your Grace,” Mrs. Swinton replied courteously. So saying, she set aside her sewing and went quickly out the door.
“I am glad to see you, my dear,” his mother said. “But you look a bit rumpled. How could your man let you out the door looking like that!”
“I, uh, sort of dodged him,” Darrius replied, feeling like a little boy who has been caught out.
“Well, never mind. Let Wilson take your coat and hat. He will furbish you up before you step back outside.”
Darrius resigned himself to allowing the aging butler to help him out of his coat.
When the fellow had stepped out of the room, the Duchess commanded, “Now tell Mother what has you in such a taking that you dodged your man.”
“I spoke with my solicitor this morning,” Darrius began.
“Oh, dear!” The Duchess flung up her hands in horror. She then reached up and tugged on the bellpull. When the butler answered the summons, she said, “Please have a decanter of brandy sent in. My son has had a difficult morning.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the butler replied, withdrawing.
Darrius felt a flash of vindication, and a lightening of his mood thanks to his mother’s sympathy. “Thank you for that,” he said. “It was a rather trying session.”
“What happened to upset you so?”
“Well, the old carriage is getting rather shabby. I would like to replace it, but the stupid man says that if I do that, there will not be enough money to pay all the workers for the spring planting.”
“Oh, dear!” the Duchess clicked her tongue, “I can quite sympathize. It is things like that which caused your father to dismiss his man of business and do it all himself. However,” she added judiciously, “I am not at all sure we were the better for it. George was a dear man, but he did not quite have a head for business. He appealed to my father, who was alive at the time, for help.”
“What happened, Mother?”