Page 2 of Lady of Providence
"Well, then, we are fortunate that you are at the helm to guide the ship," Elizabeth said with a smile, but her grandfather wore a serious expression.
"I will not always be here, Lizbeth, so I must ensure that my legacy remains intact."
"Oh, do not say such a thing," Elizabeth said, her eyelids fluttering down to conceal just how much his words affected her. While she knew both her grandparents were getting older, of course, she hardly wanted to think of what life would be like without them, for they had always provided her with the warmth and understanding she had never felt from her parents.
"It's the truth," he said with a shrug. "I wish I could hire someone like you on as a clerk to work your way up through the company, but of course, that would never do. As my own son died far too young, and his son is an incompetent disaster… I must, therefore, impart all of my knowledge to someone who will listen. Your brother is affable enough, but I couldn’t hold his attention for an hour if I tried. I need someone I can trust.” He paused before continuing, and she wondered of whom he was referring. She wished it could be her, but alas, she was a woman, and therefore, it could never be. “My apologies for the morbidity of such discussion. Now, when it comes to the staff and their salaries, one must pay them highly enough to retain loyalty and to ensure they are well looked after and able to care for their families. It's important to seek out talent and to reward those who go above and beyond. Does this make sense?"
"It does," Elizabeth said with a nod. "Though I must ask — why is it so important to oversee all of this yourself? Do you ever think that you might like to spend more time at home with Grandmother, to begin to leave this work to someone else? Mother says that there are perfectly capable people working within the company, and while I am very aware that none of them could come close to providing the same scrutiny and care that you do within this bank, could some of them not be of more help to you?"
Elizabeth's grandfather steepled his fingers under his chin and rested his elbows on the desk before him, careful not to smudge the fresh ink within a ledger.
"You have already touched upon the answer," he said. "No one else cares for a business as truly as the person who is most invested. I do not take the responsibility of senior partner lightly, for no one else built this business, or can trace it back generations to the time when our family forged gold. My very blood is within this bank. If I want to ensure it is running at the best of its ability, I must do so myself, and make certain all is as it should be."
Elizabeth listened carefully to his words, nodding as she agreed with him, then finished the glass of brandy on the table in front of her.
"I should likely be going now, Grandpapa," she said "Mother would not be pleased if I were to be at home a minute past the allotted time for gathering in the parlor. Heaven only knows who she has invited to dine with us today."
Elizabeth began to rise, but her grandfather held up a hand to stop her. It seemed he had one last question of her.
"I have heard that you have become particularly friendly with a certain Lord Gabriel Lockridge, son of the Duke of Clarence," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "But as this information comes to me via your mother, I thought that I best ask you myself as there is no guarantee that anything she tells me is accurate."
Elizabeth was sure that her cheeks were now a flaming red, but she kept holding her head high. This was her grandfather, a man who knew her nearly better than anyone, save perhaps his wife, her grandmother.
"He and I have become rather close, it is true," she said, unable to meet his stare despite her attempts to appear unaffected. "I know it seems a rather unlikely match — myself and a man who will one day be one of the most powerful in England. His family and my father’s, however, have been friends for many years, and we have come to know one another well."
"I am assuming it is not the fact that he will be a duke that draws you to him?" her grandfather asked with an eyebrow raised.
"Not at all!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "In fact, I find that to be more of a detriment. Can you imagine the pressures society must place on a duchess? But he is rather charming, and most importantly, he is quite intelligent, and I find that he most often sees the good in people, though he has a roundabout way of showing it. But I do believe, were we to find ourselves in a serious courtship, that life with him would be most... interesting."
"Life is what you make of it, Lizbeth," her grandfather said sagely. “I believe I will have a conversation with the young man, to learn more about him. You must know, however, Lizbeth, that more than anything I wish for you to be happy, and loved. But I also hope that you are able to live your own passions, outside of the role a man may bring you."
"Of course, Grandpapa."
"Do you promise me that? You will never put a man's desire for his life above your own?"
Elizabeth started. "I'm not sure that any man would be pleased with such a sentiment."
"Just promise me, Lizbeth."
“Very well," she said, her eyes wide. "I promise."
CHAPTER1
LONDON, 1815
Gabriel Lockridge, Duke of Clarence, possessor of no fewer than five estates and manors, a seat in the House of Lords, guaranteed entrance into every social event he could possibly wish to join, and a man with unlimited wealth to spend as he pleased, was bored.
He sat in White's Gentlemen's Club, staring out the window at the rain falling from the sky, drenching the passersby who hurried from one destination to the next on this dismal, dreary day. Idly, he had one ear tuned into the conversations around him, but if anything, the inane gossip that drifted toward his ears only frustrated him. Idiots, all of them. Ever since his closest friend, Jeffrey Worthington, Marquess of Berkley, had married, Gabriel had been sorely lacking acquaintances whom he could stand for more than five minutes.
“Fancy a game of whist, Your Grace?” one newly-minted, eager marquess requested, but Gabriel waved him away, though he managed a tight-lipped smile. He was being rude, he knew, but it was difficult to summon much enthusiasm. Why he had even come here tonight, he had no idea, but he supposed it was better than sitting at home and staring across his study at the portrait of his father, frowning dourly back at him.
“Clarence,” he heard from behind him, and when he turned, Gabriel was relieved to see a face he actually welcomed. Mr. David Redmond, second son of the Earl of Brentford. While below Gabriel on the social ladder, he was actually somewhat entertaining, despite his reputation as a veritable rake — although perhaps that was one reason why Gabriel so enjoyed his company. Redmond knew how to tell a story, and while some may be slightly embellished, most were rather amusing.
“May I join you?”
Gabriel waved once more, but this time it was to the chair across from him in an invitation for Redmond to sit down.
Redmond took a seat, running a hand through his hair which was so light a brown it was nearly blond, much unlike Gabriel’s own dark locks, which he always ensured were perfectly coiffed.
