He wished societal rules offered him at least that much chance to help.
Lady Hestony leaned against the coach wall, gazing into the street. Hal didn’t want to disrupt her, and so he stayed silent. His mind raced.
The shares were bought at a loss. The rest of the money was claimed. The solicitor was threatened.
It sounded insane! He could hardly imagine who would do this. Somebody had deliberately tried to ruin Hestony’s household. But who?
Hal closed his eyes, conjuring up a picture of the fellow in his mind. He had little to go on, besides the man’s status and manner of dress – a dandy, dressed colorfully. Nobody he’d witnessed near the Hartfield family matched the description.
He glanced at Hestony. She looked so sad. He cleared his throat.
“Almost time for lunch, eh?” he asked. “We’ll soon be home.”
“Yes,” Hestony whispered in a small voice. “We’ll soon be home.”
The Hansom coach drew to a slow halt outside the handsome London residence. Hal looked up at it and felt sorrow that such a fine house should have lost so much.
He jumped down to the sidewalk, then reached into his pocket to find a sixpence, which he held up to the driver.
“Thank you, My Lord,” the fellow called down.
Hal held out a hand for Hestony, who walked slowly down the coach steps to the slate sidewalk, as if she was in another world.
“Hestony…you are feeling well, aren’t you?” Hal asked with some alarm. Her hand was cold in his and he could see her forehead was damp. He recalled, vividly, how ill she had been, how worried he had felt as he sat by her bed in Amhurst Heights.
It seemed an age past.
“I’m fine,” Hestony replied. Her voice was a tight whisper, sounding so distant and so weary. Hal nodded.
“Well, I reckon it would be best if you go upstairs to get a shawl or something warm. Would you like me to call for some tea?”
“No, I’m fine,” Hestony said again. She knocked at the door and Mr. Illton opened it, bowing low as they went inside. Hal stood back to let Hestony go upstairs in front of him, feeling like a useless lump.
“I’ll speak to Miss Armstrong about the luncheon, shall I? Have it put forward?” Hal asked from behind her on the stairs.
“I don’t wish to have luncheon,” Hestony said softly. “I feel unwell.”
Hal leaned against the wall and covered his face with his hands. He felt useless and helpless and yet he wanted to help so much!
He had to find this man in the elaborate waistcoat. It was the only thing he could do.
Chapter Fourteen
Difficulties
The parlor on the top floor of the house was peaceful. It was too far up in the tall building for the noise from the street to reach it. Hestony paced before the long windows, her shoes clicking softly on the parquet floor. She stopped and looked out of the window, feeling utterly empty.
“I can’t think of anything to do about this. I’m frightened,” she admitted.
She looked out over the city. The rain had stopped, but umbrellas in dark oilskin still mushroomed on the sidewalks, and a coach trotted down the street, wheels spinning in the wet. The scene outside seemed as gray as the options that faced her.
She had to find some way of supporting Mama.
What could she do?
“Hestony…you have no saleable skills, and even if you did, that would be too shocking. No, that won’t work.”
She closed her eyes. She was accomplished – she was a good player of the pianoforte, she also spoke French and was a fine illustrator. But work such as being a governess was utterly beneath her. Mama would sooner live in penury than allow her only daughter to earn money!
“It can’t be that, then.”
Uncle Barton, Emilia’s father, had money he could lend them, and that was still an option. Emilia was not the sort of person who would let her relatives starve, and nor was Uncle. They could move into Westmore House. A life as the poor relation would kill Mama, Hestony thought in sorrow.
“Lady Hestony?”
“Hal!” Hestony jumped, when Hal called. She spun around from the window, cheeks red. She felt as if he could read her thoughts and knew she was contemplating work, or a wealthy match.
“My Lady? Is all in order? I informed Judy that you are unwell. She wished to know if you could take a little broth for luncheon?” He looked at her expectantly.
Hestony looked away, distractedly. She was touched by Hal’s care, and yet she felt too restless to even think about luncheon! She had to make some sort of plan. Her future was in question here.
“I’ll try,” she said, seeing him about to speak.
“Very good.” He nodded.
They stood awkwardly for a moment. Hestony looked up at Hal. He looked tense and worried. She could see a muscle jumping at his jaw, something she’d never noticed. He must be truly distressed. His eyes were solemn, and below the blond hair, his brows made a frown.
He looks like he’s facing some horrid choice.
What was he thinking about? Now that he knew her family’s impending ruin, what did he think of her?
“Mr. Ellington,” she said slowly. “You needn’t stay here, in London. I will manage to take the coach back alone.”
“No!” He shook his head, the frown deepening. His brown eyes seemed distressed. “I will stay here. I cannot leave you.”
“Yes, you can,” Hestony said softly. “There’s no reason for you to stay here.”
“My Lady…” He looked around, distracted by some unfathomable emotion. “I cannot desert you.”
“It would not be desertion,” Hestony said. Her throat burned as if the words were hot coals. “I have no claims on you.” As much as she loved him, and she was sure now that she did, he was not the way out of her dilemma, and she was certainly not the way out of his.
“It’s not a matter of claims,” he said swiftly. He wasn’t looking at her, though, but at his feet where they rested on the parquet.
“I will have to find my way out of this,” Hestony said, softening her voice. “I thank you for bringing me here safely, so I could learn this news.”
“It was nothing,” Hal said swiftly.
Hestony frowned up at him from where she leaned against the wall by the big window. He sounded sincere, and yet his expression was distracted, as if he could not wait to be elsewhere. She imagined what he must think, what a blow it would be to him to discover that she had no dowry and would soon be in a most penurious state.