In Hadley Green...
A gust of wind rattled the windows of Ashwood. Lily glanced
up from the mess she'd made of the wall in the salon to see
autumn leaves scudding past the window in small clusters of
red and gold. Dark clouds were accumulating on the horizon,
seeping in over the golden landscape. Lily could hear
Linford, the old Ashwood butler, shouting at the
chambermaids to close the windows ahead of the rain that
would surely fall.
He might shut the windows, but couldn't stop the leaks
around the old window frames. Or patch this hole she'd
made. In a moment of mad frustration, Lily had taken it
upon herself to remove the wallpapering. It had begun with
a frayed corner, and she'd seen paneling beneath it and
she'd thought, how difficult can it be to remove the paper?
She'd ripped off a strip. And then another. And several
more with varying degrees of success. It seemed that the
paste held quite well in some places, and not in others.
Her inability to do something as simple as remove the
papering made her anger soar. She wished the rain would
fall so hard that it washed away Tiber Park. She pictured
it; the grand Georgian estate sweeping down the river,
colliding with the construction of Tiber Park's new mill,
and both being churned to pieces.
"Have a care in your wishing, lass," she muttered, and gave
the paper a hearty tug. Two small pieces came off in her
hands. "Blasted wall!" Given her luck of late, it was far
more likely that Ashwood would wash away. In fact, she was
rather surprised that Tobin Scott hadn't ordered it up. Oh,
what delight he'd take in seeing Ashwood wash away and Lily
Boudine turning head over heels down the river with it!
With a sigh, she let the torn paper flutter onto the pile
she'd made as Linford hobbled in.
"Oh dear, does your knee pain you, Linford?" Lily asked.
"A bit," the old man agreed with a slight grimace. "Foul
weather is coming. Mr. Fish has come, mu'um. I took the
liberty of ringing for tea."
They might be poor, but they were quite rich when it came to
decorum. "Thank you. Please ask Mr. Fish to come in."
A moment later, Mr. Fish, who stood two inches shorter than
Lily in his boots, entered, his expression stern. He slowed
his efficient step when he saw the mess Lily had made, and
gave her a questioning look.
With the back of her hand, Lily pushed a dark lock of hair
from her brow. "You look rather glum, sir."
His frown deepened. "Five tenants have notified the estate
that they intend to farm greener pastures."
Lily's pulse ratcheted. She folded her arms. "I suppose
you mean to Tiber Park."
"Naturally."
There was no end to it! Since she'd come back to Hadley
Green, Lily had suffered through a slew of letters, all from
Mr. Sibley on behalf of Tiber Park, all demanding one thing
or another. One letter informed her that Tobin had offered
her tenants a lucrative share of the harvested crop at Tiber
Park in exchange for their tenancy. Another letter reported
that he'd lured men away from the mill she was building at
Ashwood, in the hopes of generating some income, to build
his bigger and better mill upstream. She'd lost three
footmen to Tiber Park, as well as a groom.
And of course, there was the one hundred of her most
profitable acres, against which he'd filed a suit, claiming
they rightfully belonged to Tiber Park. Mr. Fish and Mr.
Goodwin, Ashwood's solicitor, had assured her that he would
be successful in his suit, and that at a hearing on the
morrow, Eberlin—Eberlin! Honestly, not Tobin
Scott, but Count Eberlin of Denmark, of
all things!—would receive the acreage, all because of
some arcane, ridiculous glitch in the laws of inheritance
and entailments.
Lily had argued that her standing as the new,
rightful countess of Ashwood might work in her
favor. The estate and titles had been ordained by none
other than King Henry VIII himself, when, in giving the gift
of Ashwood to the first earl, had set out the permissions of
inheritance: to wit, any heir, male or female, had title to
the land that was Ashwood, and claim to the title! Any
blood heir, any adopted
heir, any heir at all!
But Tobin had found some tiny keyhole in the law that
allowed him to take her acreage. "It would take a miracle
of Biblical proportions for the ruling to go in your favor,
I fear," Mr. Goodwin had said apologetically.
And now five tenants were leaving. "What did he offer?"
"I cannot say precisely," Mr. Fish said. "But apparently,
new cottages have been constructed and fields that have lain
fallow for years have been harrowed. They will sow them in
the spring."
Honestly, if Lily had a canon she'd point the thing at Tiber
Park and light it herself. "Which tenants?"
"The Peterman family. There are five crofters with that
name, all related by marriage, all farming on the east end,
and all convinced of the prosperity at Tiber Park," Mr. Fish
said.
The east end was the opposite end of the one hundred acres
and, naturally, the next most productive, profitable bit of
land at Ashwood. "He is awfully determined, is he not?" she
snapped as Linford hobbled lopsidedly into the room carrying
a tea service. "As if destroying Ashwood will bring his
father back," she added angrily. She whirled around to the
window.
"As we have discussed, you are suffering from years of poor
fiscal management here at Ashwood, and he is a master at
preying on estates such as this. And yet, there is more,"
Mr. Fish said.
"More!" she exclaimed, and turned around.
Mr. Fish sipped from his cup of tea, then put it aside.
He looked thoughtfully at his hand. He squared his
shoulders.
"What is it, Mr. Fish?" Lily prodded him. "Please speak
plainly, as I find myself desperately short on patience
today."
Mr. Fish cleared his throat. "I have been studying our
ledgers. My fear is that if we do not stabilize the income
of Ashwood over the winter, we stand to be bankrupt by
summer."
Lily could feel her blood rushing from face. "You must
explain what that means."
"That we'd go the way of some other estates. That is to
say, sold in parcels to satisfy creditors. The house turned
into a museum. Your title..." He glanced at Lily. "The
title stays with the estate, of course."
Lily couldn't bring herself to speak for a moment. Her mind
was full of conflicting, jumbled thoughts. "That is his
plan, isn't it? He intends to see us parceled out." She
began to pace, her mind racing, trying to think of
something, anything, they might do. "We must do whatever it
takes to avoid it," she said to Mr. Fish. "Have you any
idea how we might do that?"
"A few," he said. "First, we must conserve cash. "We will
look for any way that we might profit as we sow our winter
crops. But Lady Ashwood, we cannot sow without crofters."
"Perhaps we might reduce the rents to attract them," she
suggested. "Or sell things. Furnishings. Anything that
isn't absolutely necessary."
"I dare say it will take more than a few furnishings to save
the estate."
There was something else that might save them: the missing
jewels, wherever they were, but no one had managed to find
them in in fifteen years.
"I have one suggestion," Mr. Fish said, and surprisingly,
his cheeks colored.
Lily paused in her pacing and looked at him curiously.
"What suggestion?"
"You might actively seek a husband."
Lily's brows shot up.
"Madam, forgive me," he said quickly, "but the original
decree states that any female heir must marry a titled man
or forfeit the estate and title upon her death." At Lily's
look of surprise, he explained, "it was a way of protecting
the property. No...ruffian could seduce his way into this
holding. Your estate is your dower. You simply choose a
titled man who is not entailed to his neck and has cash."
"That is not precisely the way I intend to go about gaining
a husband, Mr. Fish. And I daresay it is not as easy as
that. To begin, after Keira's disastrous turn here, I am
hardly in high demand in society."
Mr. Fish looked at his hands again. He cleared his throat
once more. His cheeks were quite dark now. "Madam, forgive
me for being forward, but I rather think any man worth his
salt would fall in love with you given the slightest
encouragement."
Lily blinked.
"And the ladies in Hadley Green are very fond of
matchmaking. Lady Horncastle in particular has connections
in London. I am certain she would very much enjoy helping
you." He glanced up.
Lily gaped at him. Mr. Fish was a very clever man indeed.
He'd devised a way she might kill two birds with one stone.
"At the very least, you might think on it," he said.
"Yes," Lily said, eyeing him closely. "I will think on it.
However, I have a different suggestion."
"Oh?" Mr. Fish asked, looking quite hopeful.
"We find ourselves in hemorrhaging cash because of
him, do we not?"
"Yes, in part."
Lily smiled a little crookedly. "Then if we knew what he
intended to do before he did it, we might be able to take
steps to prevent it."
Mr. Fish looked confused. "Pardon?"
"Think of it, Mr. Fish," she said, moving closer. "If we'd
known of his offer to the Peterman family before he'd made
it, we might have offered them something more attractive.
Perhaps a larger share in the yields, for example."
Mr. Fish's look of surprise slowly melted into an indulging
smile. "But madam...how could we possibly know what he
intends to do before he does it?"
This part of her plan was a bit tricky. But Lily smiled
right back as if she had it all charted out. "It so happens
that on Wednesday, I went into the village, and
Louis—the footman, you know him, do you not?"
Mr. Fish nodded.
"Louis accompanied me. A we were walking across the green,
I noticed a young man who looked oddly familiar to me. I
said as much, and Louis informed me that the young man was
Agatha's brother." Her smiled widened. "Agatha is a
chambermaid here."
Mr. Fish looked puzzled. "And?"
"And?" she said, trying not to sound too terribly eager,
"Agatha's brother serves Lord Eberlin and he might be
persuaded to relay information to us—"
"Lady Ashwood!"
"We would pay him, of course," she said quickly.
Mr. Fish gaped at her. "Madam...are you suggesting that we
spy on Lord Eberlin?"
"Yes!" Lily cried. "Indeed I am! We must do something
before he ruins us!"
"But if you were caught—"
"If," Lily said.
Mr. Fish blinked once. And then again. "I cannot advise
it," he said sternly, shaking his head and looking quite
appalled.
Lily shrugged. "Unfortunately...it might be too late." She
smiled sheepishly. "I may have suggested to Louis..."
"Ah, for the love of heaven," Mr. Fish muttered and in an
uncharacteristic lapse of decorum, he sank onto a chair.
"Now, now, Mr. Fish. It is not as dire as you think," Lily
assured him, and took a seat across from him to tell him
what she'd done.
And when Mr. Fish had left for the day—not the least
bit pleased with her plan, and really, with his head hanging
a bit, Lily reasoned that he was not entirely wrong in his
objections. She would never have believed herself capable
of such machinations and trickery.
But then, she had never run across the likes of Tobin Scott
before.