“Best not keep her waiting,” Scott said. “Just as Mr. Layton is unwilling to risk the ire of the dowager, I have no desire to earn the wrath of the goddess of the hunt.”
With a laugh, Gillian added, “Slayer of men.”
“So I have heard.” Scott bent in an overdone, regal bow. “Go. Appease the goddess if she is put out with me. And”—he allowed a playful smile—“promise you’ll sit by me after supper tonight.”
“You have my solemn vow.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek before making her way back to the house.
Fate has given you a second chance. He prayed fate was kind enough not to snatch that chance away before he managed to climb out from under the crushing burden his uncle had left him.
Chapter Twenty-three
“It won’t be enough.” Thatone sentence from Mr. Layton sent Scott’s stomach into his boots. He’d been depending on this gentleman who’d been a source of hope and encouragement but who had now brought the exact opposite news. “Your planned retrenchments will grant you a few additional months, but until Thimbleby is set entirely to rights, you’ll not get out from under your debts.”
“And even if I manage to set Thimbleby to rights before running out of funds, we don’t know what I would do with it yet.” That part of the puzzle baffled him entirely.
“There is an answer, Scott. There has to be.”
They were walking on the grounds. The lawns and hedgerows were in need of trimming, but it was still a very pleasant prospect. The house had so much potential. It was a shame Thimbleby didn’t belong to someone who could make it what it could be.
“I don’t intend to give up,” Mr. Layton said.
“A week ago, I was all but certain I’d be in a cell this time next year. Now that I have even a chance of avoiding that, I don’t mean to give up either. Though, I will confess, the impossibility of returning to Sarvol House by Michaelmas does weigh on me.”
“From all you’ve told me of your housekeeper and butler, I do believe you can trust them to make certain your staff are paid in your absence. By the next quarter day, that expenditure will have significantly decreased.”
But it would not be enough. That truth sat uncomfortably sharp in his mind. If not for Charlie’s and Mr. Layton’s providing more feed for their horses than was needed, thus allowing Scott’s team to be fed from the excess, and Artemis quite stubbornly insisting that the visitors at Thimbleby were supplying the meals and other necessities and would hear no objections, Scott’sextended time away from Sarvol House would have made the situation even worse than it was.
Mr. Layton set a hand on his shoulder. “Allow me to offer you yet another piece of unasked-for advice.”
Scott nodded, eager for whatever help he could get. His father wasn’t here, and his mother couldn’t be counted on. He would accept any and all advice, especially from a gentleman who had shown himself to be wise and considerate.
“Your sweet Gillian is worried, and there is not much you can do to ease those worries since they are the very things weighing on both of our minds. But she and Artemis have planned this picnic”—Scott and Mr. Layton were walking toward a spot on the back lawn to join in that picnic—“and it would do your sweetheart a great deal of good to see you enjoy yourself, to feel she had eased your burdens for an hour or two.”
“Being with her always makes me feel better,” Scott said. “And I think I do the same for her. I hope I do.”
“That is worth fighting for, Scott. And well worth boarding up most of the windows on the back of Sarvol House to save on window tax.”
Scott met his eyes, surprised.
“That is my most recent idea for saving a bit of money.”
Boarding up the windows. What would Father think to see his childhood home reduced to that? But, Scott told himself, if itsavedthat childhood home, Father would understand.
They’d nearly reached the spot where the ladies had planned their rustic picnic. A blanket had been laid out and a few worse-for-wear cushions provided. The meal would, Scott knew, be plain. But this gathering was not about the food. It was time spent together, something that would be in painfully short supply soon enough.
“Show her you haven’t lost hope,” Mr. Layton said.
“Few things are as hopeless as we fear they are,” Scott said, repeating the late Mrs. Layton’s words of wisdom.
With a smile that was both proud and a little sad, Mr. Layton finished the wise counsel. “The trick is choosing to believe.”
They continued on until they stood at the edge of the blanket provided for the afternoon’s gathering. Gillian smiled at Scott in that quiet, reassuring way of hers. Being with her did always make him feel better. She gave him hope.
“We thought we could all use a bit of a respite from the work around here,” Gillian said, motioning for him to sit beside her.
He did so without hesitation, though a bit awkwardly. Mr. Layton sat on the blanket, somehow doing so with both grace and dignity. Charlie already sat beside Artemis, casual and at ease.
The meal was simple, consisting of only sandwiches. But the view was spectacular, and the company was second to none. They all spoke of little nothings as they ate, the feeling among them lighter than it had been these past days. Charlie sat with his arms around Artemis, a cozy arrangement that looked so natural between the two of them that one would hardly believe they had once all but despised each other. Life took strange turns sometimes.