The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(45)
Mr Erstwhile gestured to the chair, and they both sat.
“Some might think it an accident that we stumbled upon his lordship in the alley,” Mr Erstwhile said. “But I am more inclined to believe Fate guided our way.”
Many times since that night, she had pondered the same thing, too.
“Then Fate is cruel, sir, for nothing can eradicate the last eight years. Nothing can take me back to the life I long to live. Circumstance makes it impossible.”
Mr Erstwhile tutted. “Though I loathe quoting that blackguard Bonaparte, the man sometimes spouted sense. Impossible is a word found in the dictionary of fools,” he uttered in a French accent. “And you are by no means a fool, my dear.”
This wonderful man had a way of making her feel empowered, of making her believe anything was possible.
“And so we come back to the root of the problem,” Mr Erstwhile reminded her. “It is better to speak out than keep your troubles in, as my dear mother used to say, though she put it rather more eloquently. Now, I shall refill your glass while you compose yourself.” He stood, took her glass and ambled over to the sideboard.
Other than Maudette, Estelle had never told another living soul what had happened that day. During terrifying nightmares, one was aware of their nemesis, aware of the unbeatable monster sent to wreak havoc with their lives. But in reality, some monsters came in the guise of loving men. Behind their endearing mask, they were greedy, selfish, rotten to the core.
Mr Erstwhile returned with her sherry. She swallowed down the golden liquid and let it soothe her spirits.
“It’s a long story,” Estelle began as Mr Erstwhile sat down again.
“Then let us start with the fact that you and the marquess are in love.”
“Were in love,” she corrected, now it was more lust than anything else.
With a mild sigh of frustration, he did not correct his earlier statement, but said, “And someone came to tear it asunder.”
Estelle nodded. “Lord Trevane’s father persuaded my father to invest in what should have been a lucrative venture — silver mining across the ocean in South America.”
“And the venture failed, presumably.”
“Yes. The mine collapsed. People died. My father lost everything due to a clause in the contract that he had not read properly before signing.” She recalled the letter arriving from the solicitor. She had never seen a man cry before that day. “My father was frivolous with money, but he had no reason to distrust the marquess.”
“I trust your family home was entailed.”
“My father and brother had no option but to break the entailment. The debts were insurmountable. My father took out numerous loans to cover some of his investment, you see. It would have been the end of him had my brother not agreed it was better to pay the debt and begin again.”
Mr Erstwhile’s eyes flashed with admiration. “Then your brother must be a remarkable man to put his family’s needs before his own.”
Estelle’s heart swelled when she thought of Fabian. She must have hurt him deeply and only hoped he could forgive her.
“By all accounts, he has made rather a name for himself running a fleet of merchant ships.”
“Clearly, courage is a family trait.” Mr Erstwhile’s smile faded, and he frowned. “But surely your dowry was intact. Although Lord Trevane does not strike me as a man who would choose money over love.”
Estelle cradled the glass in her lap. “I have no notion what Lord Trevane would choose as I never gave him the option.” It was wrong of her to leave without speaking to Ross. She knew that now. But she’d been so confused, so lost and scared.
A heavy silence filled the room.
Mr Erstwhile’s shoulders sagged. “But you told Lord Trevane you couldn’t marry him?”
“No.” Oh, she could never have told him that. “You see his father intentionally ruined my father to make it too difficult for us to marry.”
“The marquess would rather see your father bankrupt than have you marry his son? Surely not, child.” Mr Erstwhile cleared his throat. “I saw the possessive look in Lord Trevane’s eyes when he almost punched Mr Hungerford in the street. No doubt he would have protested should his father attempt to force his hand.”
A lump formed in Estelle’s throat. Brought to bear by the burden of regret. She struggled to swallow. “Ross knows nothing of the day his father came to see me.” It would break him to know the truth about his parents, to know the level of deceit and betrayal. “All he knows is that I left without a word despite promising to marry him.”
Disappointment passed over Mr Erstwhile’s face. “When we are young, we do not always see things clearly. The lady I know would not intentionally hurt someone she loves.”
Estelle closed her eyes briefly. She had made up her mind to tell Ross everything, and would tell the truth now.
“My father would not have prevented the match. But he grew bitter, insisted that I could not know the character of the man I wanted to marry. Indeed, he had decided I should stay with my great-aunt while he and my brother made arrangements to sell the estate. He said time apart might save me from making a dreadful mistake.”
“So that is how you came to be so far from home.”
“No, I was to go to Yorkshire, not France.” To tell him of the shipwreck and her life with the smugglers would be more than his poor heart could take. “But my maid received word that her uncle had come into some money and had bought a vineyard. She contemplated returning to Bordeaux.” Estelle’s mind had been so heavy with the weight of her burden when all she’d wanted was to be with Ross. “The conversation I had with Ross’ father the day before I left persuaded me to flee.”