Scott would love nothing more. But he was in even less of a position to imagine a future together than he’d assumed only an hour ago.
“What about Thimbleby?” Scott asked. “Do we need to close it up entirely?”
Mr. Layton shook his head. “Once we have a plan for running Sarvol House on as little money as possible—and I must warn you, doing so will require a painful amount of retrenchment on your part—then we will embark on the task of finding a means of making Thimbleby not merely self-sustaining but profitable enough to help fund the needs at Sarvol House.”
“Is that even possible?” Scott had nothing but doubts on that score. “One cannot squeeze blood from a rock, as the saying goes.”
“I don’t have all of the information I need to tell you precisely how you might move forward, but this is the direction you need to take. Thimbleby requires less work and will be less expensive to maintain than Sarvol House. Setting it to rights is far more possible, which makes this estate far easier to make profitable. Once it turns a profit, it can help your situation rather than worsen it.”
“If you knew the sort of luck I’ve had these last two years, you would be formulating dozens of other plans rather than resting all my hopes on this one.”
“An incredibly wise lady once told me, ‘Few things are as hopeless as we tell ourselves they are. The trick is choosing to believe.’”
“Was that Mater?”
Mr. Layton’s face pulled in a small smile as he shook his head. “My late wife. Life gave her every reason to stop hoping and believing. She taught me what true strength really is.”
“It seems you’ve made it part of your life’s mission to pass on that lesson to others.”
“A mission she took part in while she was still with me,” Mr. Layton said. “And yes, one I continue on in her honor.”
“There’s hope here, then?”
“I suppose that depends on how creative you are willing to get in your efforts to fund the repairs you need to make.”
“I hope you are not suggesting gambling, as I discovered long ago that I’m not good at it.”
Mr. Layton chuckled. “No, I was going to suggest you go out and try to marry a wealthy heiress.”
Immediately, Scott began to object.
“Ah.” Mr. Layton raised a single eyebrow. “This Gillian is poor as a church mouse, is she?”
Scott cleared his throat. “I didn’t bring up Gillian.”
“You didn’t have to, my boy. I watched my friends each fall in love with their eventual spouses. And I listened to most of them insist that they weren’t in love. I’m an expert at spotting that deception.”
“You are reading too much into it,” Scott insisted. “Gillian is intriguing and interesting and—”
“Poverty-stricken?” Mr. Layton added dryly.
“Not truly,” Scott said. “But there are a great many other difficulties.”
“The existence of difficulties does not, on its own, negate the possibility of wonderful things.”
“Retrenchment, though, does negate the possibility of a great many things,” Scott pointed out. “She lives in County Durham, while I will, I suspect, not be leaving Nottinghamshire for years. She’s not enduring poverty, but I still can’t imagine she is eager to make her home in a house with no comforts and likely not even all the most basic of things.” Admitting it out loud proved even more discouraging than he would have guessed. “Even if I were certain she returned my regard—and I’mnot—those are obstacles that aren’t easily overcome.”
“Love is an often surprising thing, Scott. Don’t underestimate it.”
“Another of your wife’s bits of wisdom?”
“No.” He closed the estate ledgers. “One of mine.”
Mr. Layton had discovered that Scott was in deeper difficulties than he’d realized, and Scott didn’t yet know how meager his life at Sarvol House was going to become. They hadn’t a solid plan for saving the estate. Yet, he felt more hopeful than he had about this matter in years.
“If you have no objections,” Mr. Layton said, “I’d very much like to stay and see if we can’t sort out a means of working miracles here.”
“A miracle is likely exactly what I need.”