Chapter 21

'Cass, I'm afraid, I'm going to have to set out for London tonight,' Damien said as he looked at the message he had been given upon his arrival at Abbotgate House. 'It must be urgent if they sent a messenger,' he then said almost to himself.

'Who is it from?' Cassie asked curiously.

'It's from a firm of solicitors in London called Morton, Melbury and Hartley. I've never heard of any of them,' Damien said, still looking at the message puzzled. 'They're nothing to do with my grandfather's estate. His solicitors were based in Canterbury, not St Paul's in the centre of London.'

'Do you have to go today?' Cassie said, looking at him with concern in her eyes. 'It is getting late, and the roads between here and London are in a shocking state of repair.'

'If I ride as far as Canterbury before sunset, I can stay the night at The White Horse. If I leave early the following morning, I can reach their offices by midday,' Damien said as he went to a bureau that stored all his papers.

'Should you ride?' Cassie said, a little alarmed, 'your shoulder is still very stiff, and I know it is still painful. You should, at least, take Appleby with you.'

Damien went over to her and put his arms around her waist and gave her a kiss. 'I love you,' he said as he looked into her eyes, 'and I love the fact that you care about what happens to me. But, you must not worry. If I leave now, I still have at least three hours of daylight. I don't want poor Appleby traipsing after me all the way to London. He doesn't even like going to town, let alone a big city. Anyway, he has to go to the market tomorrow. I need to stock up on livestock if I'm to be a gentleman farmer.'

Cassie nodded. 'Please be careful,' she said, holding onto him tightly, 'I do not want to lose you.'

Damien kissed her. Then he lifted her head and gently pinched her chin between his fingers. 'By agreeing to marry me, you have made me the happiest man on earth. I will be back before you know it. When I return, I'll go and see the parson, and arrange for the bands to be read next Sunday. All being well, we should be Mr and Mrs Laws by the end of May.'

Cassie smiled at him. 'You better get going,' she said as she tried not to cry. She then stepped away from him and walk towards the door. 'I'll go and pack your things.'

✽✽✽

Sir Henry Cavendish was sitting at the breakfast table at his country seat, Hatton House, looking at the unopened letter that had been placed next to his plate. Sir Henry knew that the arrival of this letter heralded the demise of his opulent and comfortable world. The lavish lifestyle, he had enjoyed over many years, would soon come to an end, unless he could find a way out of his predicament.

The problem was, Sir Henry liked to gamble. And, over the years, since he had gained his majority, he had frequented every gaming hell in the capital. It had not been long before his vast fortune had become a modest dependence; and that modest dependence; a pittance. He had had a rest bite from his financial troubles when he married, but it had not taken him long to dispose of his bride's substantial dowry as well. Many years ago, when he had found himself in serious financial trouble, he had mortgaged his estate, including all the prime farming land associated with it, to pay his immediate debts. Two years ago, the mortgage should have been repaid, but, as usual, Sir Henry had no money.

Sir Henry had not bothered to go to a bank for a loan. He knew that the establishment would never lend a substantial amount of money to a risky client, who had already mortgaged his land and could not even make those repayments. Instead, he had borrowed the money from a well-respected member of the ton, Lord Melrose. He had thought when he had initially applied to his lordship for the loan, that Melrose would be far more accommodating than any bank. He had thought that a fellow member of the nobility, would forgive any tardiness in repayments. After all, Lord Melrose, who had paid off the mortgage and now held the deeds to the land, understood the complicated nature of overseeing such a large estate.

Unfortunately, for Sir Henry, Melrose was not at all sympathetic to his plight. As soon as the loan had reached its maturity, Melrose had demanded payment in full. That demand had been made four months ago, and Sir Henry had still not summoned up the courage to confront him and tell him it could not be paid.

Sir Henry picked up the letter and took a deep breath to muster up enough courage to open the familiar seal. Once he had eventually opened the letter and had finished reading its contents, he placed it back on the table next to his plate. He had thirty days to pay the loan in full. If he did not pay, he would forfeit his house and land.

'What is it Henry?' a shrill voice from the other side of the breakfast table said loudly, 'you look like you've seen a ghost. Have you had bad news?'

'Nothing to worry yourself about, Sophia,' he said, dismissively to his wife, 'just estate business.'

'Do not lie to me, Henry,' Lady Sophia said, looking at her husband testily. 'I have seen that expression before,' she said, her own face not betraying her emotions, 'I do hope that you have not got one of the village girls into trouble again.'

'It's none of your business what I do,' Sir Henry said curtly, as he picked up the carefully folded newspaper and started to pretend to read the front page. 'I do not want to hear another one of your moralising sermons about my conduct,' he added testily. He knew that it would be much better for him if his wife believed that he really was having an affair with one of the village girls. She may forgive his infidelity, but he knew that she would not forgive his financial neglect

'You do know, that I have to live here as well. It was quite mortifying to know that our neighbours and closest friends were gossiping about our family,' she said sharply. 'I found it difficult to show my face in the village after what you did to that poor girl. You should be ashamed of yourself, she was younger than your own daughter. And, who knows what became of her. I have not seen her in the village since the scandal.'

'I told you, Sophia, I don't want to talk about it,' he said firmly as he flicked the newspaper. Sophia, in his opinion, was exaggerating. The girl's parents, after discovering she was pregnant with his child, had demanded money from him. When he refused to give them a penny, the girl had been quickly dispatched to London by her parents. Sir Henry never cast himself as the villain, he always blamed someone else for his own mistakes, and in this case, he blamed the girl for being careless.

Sir Henry, who was still deep in thought, did not notice that his wife had picked up the letter. 'Oh! Henry,' she said despairingly after she had read its contents, 'I always knew you were a fool, but this!'

'Sophia,' Sir Henry said crossly, 'I told you it was none of your business.'

'What!' she said, still standing over him, 'losing my home and living on the street! How can that not be my business? My father always said that you would end in ruin. I should have listened to him, but I was young and foolish.'

'I'm going to repay it,' Sir Henry said indignantly.

'How?' said his wife, waving her finger in his direction, 'how are you going to materialise nearly fifty thousand pounds? Out of the ether?'

'Julia,' he said, as a matter of fact, 'Fennimore asked for her hand at the end of last season. I know he would agree to have her. He would give me most of the money as part of the settlements.'

'Fennimore!' Lady Sophia exclaimed, shocked by her husband's suggestion, 'but he is at least ten years older than you. And, he lives in Cumbria and rarely makes the journey to London. If she married him, I might never see my little girl again.' She looked down at her plate, and he could see the tears welling up in her eyes, 'Henry, it is cruel giving her away to such a man. What about the scandal concerning the disappearance of his first wife? I heard, from Lady Harrison, his nearest neighbour, that she is still alive, and he keeps her locked...'

'Sophia,' Sir Henry roared impatiently, as he interrupted his wife, 'I will not have you spreading malicious gossip about Fennimore. Anyway, our dear Julia,' he said with disdain, 'was not exactly a success last season.'

'The poor girl is shy,' Lady Sophia said defensively, 'she finds it difficult to speak to strangers.'

'She was a damn wallflower,' Sir Henry said disparagingly, 'and the only offer she had, the whole season, was from old Fennimore. I'm not going to finance another season for her, the girl has no hope of finding a decent husband,'

'She just needs a little more time, that is all,' Lady Sophia said sadly.

'What's more, the foolish chit has been making eyes at that stupid, lanky curate,' he spat out, 'I don't know what the silly girl sees in him, he's as poor as a church mouse and cannot string an intelligible sentence together.' Sir Henry looked over to his wife. 'My dear,' he said, using a softer, kinder voice, 'if she does not marry Fennimore, we will have to leave this house at the end of the month, and we have nowhere to go. We will have to rent a house in Cheapside and...'

'Stop,' Lady Sophia said, as she put up her hand, 'I will talk to Julia. She's a good girl, and I know that she will do her duty.'

Just as Lady Sophia had finished what she was saying, the door to the dining room opened. 'Please excuse the interruption, sir,' the smartly dressed butler said politely, 'but, Dr Oakland is here to see you.'

'Oakland,' Sir Henry barked, 'what does the old fool want at this time of day? Tell him to come back later this afternoon.'

'Sir,' the butler said, now betraying a nervousness in his voice, 'he says that it is urgent and that it cannot wait.'

There was a commotion in the hallway, and Sir Henry stood up in response to the sound. 'What the hell's going on in the hall? It sounds like a herd of deer are thundering up the stairs.'

'As I said, sir,' the butler said nervously, 'I think you should come and talk to Dr Oakland.'

Sir Henry, his own troubles now forgotten, strode purposely out of the breakfast-room, to where the scene of the disturbance was taking place. 'Damn you, Oakland,' he boomed across the spacious hallway, 'you have a nerve coming here so early in the morning.'

Dr Oakland, a rather rotund man in his late middle age, looked at Sir Henry with apprehension in his eyes. 'I am sorry, Sir Henry, to come at such an early hour, but it's urgent.'

'What on earth could be so urgent, this early in the day?' Sir Henry said irately. 'Can't a gentleman have breakfast without being interrupted by some old fool kicking up a fuss.'

'There was an accident just outside Hatton House,' Dr Oakland blustered, 'a gentleman was thrown from his horse.'

'I don't see what that has to do with me,' Sir Henry said dismissively. 'If the fool can't control his own beast, of course, he'll get injured.'

'I don't think it is a simple as that.' Dr Oakland said, looking at his feet. 'According to your gamekeeper, Smith, a deer, from the park, ran out in front of him as he was riding past Hatton. His frightened horse reared up and threw him.'

'I still don't see what this has got to do with me,' Sir Henry said, 'can't Smith sort it out.'

'The problem,' the Doctor continued, 'is that the gentleman hit his head on a tree stump and is unconscious. He is also bleeding heavily, and if I don't get him inside, he'll more than likely die in your hallway.'

At that point, several men came through the front door carrying a stretcher. 'Where shall we put him, sir?' one of them asked Sir Henry.

'Back where you found him,' was the angry reply.

'Put him in the blue room,' Lady Sophia said authoritatively to the men carrying the injured man. The men obeyed the command of the lady of the house and began to carry the injured man up the staircase.

'Sophia,' Sir Henry barked, 'have you lost your mind?'

'Oh! Henry,' she said with a sigh, 'you cannot leave the poor man outside. Just think about what our neighbours would say if they heard of our inhospitality.'

'Is he a gentleman?' Sir Henry then said to Dr Oakland, 'I'll not have just anyone in my house.'

'He is definitely a gentleman,' Dr Oakland said with conviction. 'I managed to find some of his personal documents in the satchel he was carrying. His name is Captain Laws, and I do believe, from the message I found, that he is on his way to London to see his solicitor. I cannot locate any other address on his person. I will go upstairs and make a careful examination of him, and if, over the next couple of hours. he does not regain consciousness, it may be a good idea to send one of your lads to his solicitors and find out a little more about him.'

nW{9 ⛛