Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

J ames stood by the window looking out at the snow as little flurries blanketed the earth in a fresh coat. The season had finished far more pleasantly than he’d originally anticipated, especially given his reluctance upon seeing Eleanor. Preparations for the final ball of the Christmastide season were well underway as his mother, Eleanor, and all the women in the village were at Granville House, scurrying about replacing the ivy that had wilted over the last twelve days and putting everything in order for the Epiphany ball that night.

He would have gladly assisted but had been sent to his den to stay out from underfoot. Therefore, he’d had more than enough time to look out at the snow while warming his insides with a cup of tea. There was absolutely nothing he needed to do until it was time to dress for their guests, which would be hours yet.

He’d left the house early that morning to check in at the Gower residence. Little Jane Gower’s fever had broken with the proper medication. She was mending and would be out of bed for supper that evening. He then spent the morning at the Barton farm. A small fire had started in the barn, destroying the back half. He’d dragged Montefeltro out with him, and they’d helped raise the wall that morning.

Now, Montefeltro was in his bedchamber primping himself for the evening. Montefeltro and Miss Hartwell planned to marry and had posted the banns, the same as James had done. This meant Montefeltro would stay in Emerald Falls for at least another month or two, which didn’t bother James at all. He was happy to offer lodgings, given Montefeltro’s charitable contributions to James’s tenants. He also found he enjoyed Montefeltro’s company. He was a good man. One he was proud to claim as a friend.

“Sir,” Bishop stepped forward with the silver tray. In the center sat a thin letter. “The delivery boy is waiting for a reply.”

Snapping the wax seal, James quickly read the words scrawled upon the parchment and then looked to Mr. Bishop. It had been years since the bank manager had requested his account information. The missive in and of itself was nonsensical, since the manager should be able to look in his ledgers to find his account number. “Where is Mr. Crane?”

“I have not seen him since yesterday, sir. Shall I send a man to his home?”

James shook his head. “Not necessary. I will stop by on my way to the bank.”

“Very good, sir.”

James looked to the letter once more. An itch began at the edge of his thoughts as he considered the reason behind the matter. None of his assumptions made any sense, which meant he simply needed to make the trip into the village.

As he stepped into the hall, he stopped to admire Eleanor’s profile. She held a sprig of mistletoe as a footman climbed to the top of a ladder. His heart had changed toward the troublesome plant, leastwise where he and Eleanor were concerned. He would have to remember the exact spot where the mistletoe was placed so he could kiss his intended that evening. But in that moment, he saw no reason to delay a Twelfth Night kiss.

Stepping forward, he pulled Eleanor into his arms as he snatched the mistletoe from her hand and held it above their heads. Their lips met for a tender kiss, chaste enough to not embarrass the staff, but with enough fervor that he left her a little lightheaded. He held her close until she caught her breath.

“I thought you were to stay in the den until we had finalized the decorations,” Eleanor said, attempting a stern gaze, but her lips twitched with a smile. Dare he hope for another sweet kiss?

James offered the mistletoe to the footman, who stood at the ready. As he turned back, he brushed another kiss across her delicious lips. He’d waited far too long to hold her in his arms, and he wouldn’t squander another moment. “I must go to the bank.”

“Now? Can it not wait until the morrow?”

“I am afraid not. The letter is a bit odd. I must see to the situation today.”

Eleanor tugged on his waistcoat pulling him a little closer. “Then do so with haste. I do not wish to welcome our guests without you by my side.”

“I do adore the way you order me about.”

Eleanor kissed him once more. “And I adore everything about you, my love.”

James laughed. He’d never known such happiness existed. For he had never truly experienced joy until Eleanor had agreed to be his. They may not be married for another three weeks, but he would certainly enjoy every day to its fullest. “Miss Dove, if I do not leave now, your lips will be swollen from stolen kisses when our guests arrive.”

A blush crept instantly into her cheeks. “Why, Mr. Bailey, you are devilishly bold this afternoon.” She playfully pushed him away. “Off with you. Attend to your banking business and return to me as the gentleman you are instead of the rogue you pretend to be.”

James accepted his hat and gloves, allowing Bishop to assist him with the coat before leaving Granville House. It took a quarter of an hour for him to drive the sleigh to Mr. Crane’s cottage. He knocked on the door but received no answer. It was possible Crane was visiting the neighbors or the local pub. Given it was Twelfth Night, there were many celebrations happening that day.

Shrugging off the worry over his secretary’s absence, James set out for the bank. Although it had been years since he’d managed the finances on his own, he was well versed on the books, having reviewed them recently. He would handle the situation and return to Granville House in time to dress for the party.

It took more time than he’d expected to navigate the snowy terrain, but when James arrived in town, he left the horse and sleigh at the local livery and then walked the short distance to the bank, arriving with a pile of snow upon his hat and shoulders.

“I am here to meet with the bank manager.” James made his request and then stepped to the stove as he rubbed his hands together over the fire to bring a bit of heat back into his limbs.

“Mr. Bailey, thank you for responding so quickly.” Mr. Hadley held out his hand, but it wasn’t in greeting. Instead, it was a formality to usher James into his private office.

Once inside, James again stepped to the fire. “It is blisteringly chilly out. I do hope you will be home before the weather turns colder.”

“That is my hope as well, Mr. Bailey.” The other man walked to his desk, sat in the chair, and then picked up his quill. “If you will but inform me as to the bank where you have transferred your accounts, I will mark it down to send notice to your debtors.”

“My debtors?” James smiled at the man. “I realize my mother can be a bit frivolous with the Twelfth Night celebrations, but I assure you all the bills will be promptly paid on the morrow.”

“I am referring to debts you have incurred before this latest celebration.”

“It has been a few days since I looked over the books, but everything should be in order. I shall review everything this evening, if necessary.”

“Very good, sir. Now, as to your current accounts. Where might I advise your debtors to send their requests?”

James frowned. His family coffers had been with Lambton’s since they’d opened their doors—the same year he’d been born. Tilting his head to the side, James spoke with the surety of his position as a member of the bank. “Sir, you must know my accounts are with Lambton’s. The accounts were incepted in the year seventeen hundred eighty-eight. I have no intention of switching elsewhere.”

Mr. Hadley slowly placed his quill upon the blotter. “I am sorry to inform you, sir, but your secretary arrived yesterday afternoon with a signed statement requesting a closure on your accounts.”

James stepped away from the fire. The smell of pine from the crackling embers no longer lent comfort. There wasn’t any reason to warm his hands as it did little good once an icy chill had settled into his chest. “What are you speaking about, man? I signed nothing of the sort.”

Hadley shuffled a few sheets of parchment around on his desk until he found the right one. “Is this not your signature?”

Crossing the room, he ripped the parchment out of Hadley’s hand ready to declare it was a forgery, but his voice caught in his throat as he stared at the page. The signature he’d perfected in his youth sat before him at the bottom of the official document. The memory of Crane handing two sheets to him, one he’d reviewed the other he’d hastily signed as he’d seen to the situation with Tommy Gower, appeared at the forefront of his mind.

“I assume you recognize the document.”

Rubbing his chin, James nodded as he considered his situation. It couldn’t be as bad as it seemed. His inheritance was large. A setback would not be so terrible. “You mentioned debts.”

He stepped closer to the desk, his legs wobbling like an unsteady babe in leading strings. He searched for a chair, but then realized if he sat now, he likely wouldn’t be able to stand when necessary. Leaning against the desk, he patiently waited for Mr. Hadley to produce the ledgers showing the transactions of his accounts.

“Over the past five years, you have made the minimum required payments for each of these debtors. I am afraid when you missed this month’s requirements, the loans were called in.”

“Loans?” Running his pointer finger down the page, James’s breath halted at the numerous debts listed with a minimum payment required each month. Visits to the modiste from years past that still showed he owed a significant sum. The original cost would have been covered long ago, if not for the monthly interest. The haberdashery, coaching inns, the pub, debts from businesses in London, and land taxes. Years of taxes upon Granville House that had yet to be paid in full.

“The list goes onto the next page, I am afraid.” Mr. Hadley’s matter-of-fact tone only served to enhance the labor of James’s breathing. A pain started in his chest and spread outward, grabbing hold of his shoulders and pressing down through his arms.

“This does not signify. My monthly ledgers show each of these payments were cleared. Paid in full at the time they were incurred. I have approved payment of the land taxes.”

For the first time since he’d entered the office, Mr. Hadley’s confidence faltered. “I assure you, Mr. Bailey, your man of business made it clear you wished to pay on a monthly basis.”

“Why did you not say anything?” Even as he asked the question, he already knew the answer. Five years previously, he’d introduced his new personal secretary, Mr. William Crane, at the bank and given him full access to the accounts. James had thought a monthly review of the books would suffice, but it appeared, much to his own detriment, he had been dreadfully wrong.

“I apologize, Mr. Bailey. You were signing the forms. I had no reason to deny every request made by your man of business.”

James closed his eyes. He counted to ten and then reopened them waiting for clarity, yet on the day marked on the calendar as Epiphany, by stark contrast, there were no epiphanies to help him out of this mess. The man standing before him looked quite unsettled, but otherwise there was nothing to indicate a change within the room. James’s throat went dry, his tongue increasing to fill the entirety of his mouth. “What are my options?”

“You may be able to hold off the local businesses. The more pressing matter is the taxes. I am afraid the Land Tax Commissioner has called in your loan and requires eight thousand pounds by morning.”

James rocked back on his feet, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Eight thousand pounds?”

The sum was far dearer than he had expected. If his coffers were full, the sum would still be great for a one-time expense but not devastating.

“If you are unable to pay the sum by half past ten on the morrow, I am afraid the Commissioner will be required to seize Granville House. He will request the constable arrest you and remove you to debtor’s prison.”

James’s head snapped up. “What of my mother? What of Eleanor?”

Eleanor would escape debtor’s prison. She was not yet his wife. But his shame and ruin would fall upon her shoulders. Her reputation would be done. Two failed engagements in one week would not be well received.

Mr. Hadley let go of the formalities as he stepped around the desk. Placing a calming hand on James’s shoulder, he squeezed it enough to let him know there was an ounce of sympathy for his plight. “Can you not go to Mr. Dove and request help? Upon your marriage to his daughter, he should dispense the dowry. A few weeks ahead of time is not unheard of.”

James closed his eyes, as he shook his head. “Mr. Dove refuses to pay the dowry.”

“Mayhap he will make an exception. The money is set aside for her marriage. It is enough to cover the land taxes and other debts. Enough to keep your accounts solvent, if you retrench.”

A sound erupted from James’s throat resembling a tortured laugh. “How shall I ask for such a sum? His daughter gave up a life of luxury and a title to marry me, a man whose secretary stole his inheritance. His entire life’s savings. What man in his right mind would write out a bank note for eight thousand pounds with such news?”

“The dowry is twenty thousand pounds. It is well worth the ask.”

James knew the only reason Mr. Hadley would have knowledge of the amount was because the dowry account was at his bank. Even James hadn’t been made privy to that information, given the money had been taken away due to Eleanor’s choice in husband. “There must be another option.”

“Do you not have a stash of quick money at home? Any amount over the eight thousand might be enough to tide you over as you retrench.”

James pulled his purse out of his coat pocket. He extracted the coins and placed them on the desk. “Five pounds is all I have to my name.” He ran his finger down the list of debts and found the lowest amount. “You may pay this one in full.”

He clutched his coat, holding it closed, as he exited the office. Stumbling out of the bank, he leaned against the door noticing a fresh layer of snow as large flakes fell around him. His horse was at the livery, but he could not retrieve him having just given the last of his coins to Mr. Hadley.

If he hurried, he might be able to find Mr. Crane before he escaped town. It was the only way he could save his family from ruin.

James approached the cottage at a run. Sweat poured down the sides of his face, mixing with the snowflakes as they fell harder and faster than when he’d left the bank. He wanted to believe this was a misunderstanding. Perhaps he hadn’t given clear instructions—or it was possible Crane had misunderstood the way ledgers were to be kept. Whatever the issue, James needed to discover the truth before all was lost.

Lifting his hand to the door, James realized for the first time since he’d left the bank that his gloves were likely sitting on the table near the fire. Little good they would do him now. His fingers were red, but he balled them into a fist and pounded on the door to the little cottage ignoring the sting in his frozen fingers.

He waited a short time, hoping against the doubts that Crane would open the door with an explanation and the bank notes to make everything right, but the silence was a deafening answer. Crane was not home. Reaching forward, he twisted the knob to hear the click and release. Pushing through, into the house, he stood in the entryway, viewing a haphazard mess. When Crane had last left, it had been in haste.

Not believing his own eyes, James ran from the entryway to each room of the house, taking the steps two at a time to the bedchambers, only to find the same hurried mess on the upper floor. His man of business was gone. The only plausible explanation was the one he had known to be true from the moment he’d understood his accounts had been emptied. Crane had robbed him of every penny.

Stumbling out of the cottage, James fell to the ground, holding his stomach with one hand and balancing himself as he knelt while casting up his accounts, marring the beauty of the pristine white snow. Kneeling, he wiped the mess from his face and then slowly pushed up to stand, his legs shaking at the realization that all was lost.

James walked toward Granville House, snow crunching under his boots, as he made a haphazard path from the cottage to his home. Eleanor’s soft, rosy-cheeked complexion swam before his vision as he thought of ways to save her from ruin. She, out of everyone, was the one he wanted to save. She had no part in his debts. His mother would be welcomed at her brother’s home until Harry and his wife returned from the Continent. She’d be spared a life of hard labor.

The distance took less time than he’d remembered. The large home, cared for by his father and ancestors before him, was alight with candles in every window, ready to welcome Emerald Falls, just as the Christ child and his parents had welcomed the Magi. He slowly took the steps, unclear as to how he would tell Eleanor and his mother of the situation. It seemed kinder to inform them of his financial troubles instead of allowing them to witness his failure as he was placed in shackles and carted off to prison.

As he stepped through the door, Bishop took his hat and then assisted him with his coat. “Thank you, Bishop.”

“You are most welcome, sir.”

James ran a hand through his hair realizing for the first time that it was soaked through. His hat had done little good, given the state of the weather. “Where is Eleanor?”

“Miss Dove is in the ballroom.” Mr. Bishop carefully placed his hat upon the peg and then held the greatcoat up noticing the sick sticking to the lining of the fur. “You are unwell, sir. I will send your valet up with hot water. You should rest instead of joining the festivities this night.”

“I am well enough.” James said as he fought back another wave of sick. Gathering the last bit of strength he could muster, he forced his legs to move forward, carrying him toward Eleanor.

The ballroom was decorated from top to bottom, representations of gold, frankincense, and myrrh adorning each table. Taking a deep inhale, he closed his eyes, expecting the spicy scent of the frankincense to calm his mind and soul, but it did little good. He was far too disturbed for the healing effects of the aroma.

As he stood, waiting for clarity, he wondered if he had enough antique items in Granville House that he could sell to pay his debts. The process would take time, but if he could negotiate with the land commissioner, he might not find himself in debtor’s prison. If he was unsuccessful, the sale of his family heirlooms would have to take place after he was arrested. He would leave instructions for Harry. His brother would see to the matter on his behalf.

His eyes landed upon Eleanor, enchantingly beautiful and dressed for the party in a gold evening frock. She stood at the base of an oversized Christmas tree, directing three footmen who were standing on ladders as they placed candles on each of the boughs.

James couldn’t ruin her evening. Watching her graceful movements, James knew he had to do everything in his power to gather the necessary funds. Leaving Eleanor and his mother to their decorating, he charged down the hall to his den. He would search the room for every spare bit of coin, and he wouldn’t give up until he had eight thousand pounds in hand on the morrow.

He closed the door, preferring not to alert anyone in the house to his desperation. Walking from one shelf to the next, he removed everything of value from its place, setting it on the desk. He didn’t know what amount they would fetch in a quick sale, but it was worth attempting to gather the funds that night or early in the morning.

Pulling books from shelves, he searched each page, hoping his father had tucked money away long ago, but nothing fell out. When he was finished tearing apart his den, he moved to the library. One book after another was pulled down from the shelves as he searched for money. Instead of replacing the books in their rightful spots, he threw them to the floor. Piles of books lay upon the floor, but there was nothing, not even a quid. Both he and his father had trusted the bank and placed every bit of their earnings into the family accounts for safe keeping. There was no stash of money waiting for him to use in an emergency.

His hands shook as he threw the last book from the shelf. He climbed down the ladder, stumbling over the mess he’d made as he pulled open the library door and went back to his den. He pulled out his ledgers, finding the page that listed the family heirlooms.

With a quill in hand, he slowly penned a letter to his brother. The missive was an absolute mess, but it conveyed his dire circumstances. Harry would know what to do. Now he need only find enough money to frank the letter.

My Esteemed Brother, Harry Bailey,

I trust this missive finds you in good health and in the comfort of your hearth as you conclude the celebration of Epiphany with your dear wife. Mother and I have missed you terribly and wish for your speedy return. Regrettably, I write not to share the tidings of a joyous holiday season, but rather to unburden myself of grievous news as I lay my burdens at your feet.

I realize, dear brother, that I have erred not only in the sight of man, but in God’s sight as well. What father would say to me upon this occasion haunts my thoughts, and I pray one day I might be able to face him upon my entry into heaven. How I shall look you and Mother in the eye while on this earth, I shall never know. I dare not think about your wrath once you read beyond this point.

An egregious error on my part has led to my financial undoing. The man of business with whom I entrusted my affairs has absconded, having emptied my accounts entirely. Were this misfortune to afflict me alone, I would not dare trouble you with my plight. However, the ramifications extend beyond me. You and Mother will now face the consequences of my folly. My intended, Eleanor Dove will face the censure of Society as she is bound to end our engagement, making this her second failed attempt on the marriage mart. I fear her reputation, no matter how deeply she is loved by all in Emerald Falls, will not survive my disgrace.

James held his quill over the parchment, trying to find a way to tell his brother he needed eight thousand pounds to hold off the land commissioner. He truly had no idea what the full debt was, not having asked for the final sum. But as he tried to write the words, he couldn’t continue. Harry didn’t deserve to hear about his debts in a letter. Placing this burden upon his brother was wrong. It was his debt, and he alone needed to find a way to repair what he had done.

Instead of finishing the letter, James threw the quill to the desk, ink splattering across the parchment and the pristine ebony desktop. He crunched the parchment but left it sitting upon his desk as he left the den. He stood in the hall, knowing there were no more options. It was time to ruin the happiness of everyone in this house by informing them of his ruin. Within the hour, the house would be empty of servants who would need to find an employer to meet their wages. His intended would leave for home, and his mother…his mother would need to leave as well.

As he stood desperately trying to figure out how to save Eleanor and his mother, he knew the only possible way to do so would be to break their hearts. It would be kinder than allowing them to take responsibility for his debts, for he knew they would not abandon him as he desired.

Entering the ballroom, James took a deep breath as he straightened his shoulders and crossed the wood floor. The sound of his boots pulled Eleanor’s attention away from the preparations for the party. Her face lit up like the sun at noon day, and his plan faltered in his chest. He couldn’t hurt her. Not again.