Page 12 of Lady of Providence
And at that, she shut the door in his face, brushed her hands together, and then went to work.
CHAPTER6
Gabriel had just finished reading the day’s papers when his butler appeared at the door to advise him he had a caller.
“A caller?” He asked, confused. “It is hardly eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“Should I tell him to return later this afternoon?” his butler asked, clearly as disapproving as Gabriel himself. Gabriel was about to tell him yes, please do so, but then curiosity got the better of him. Which proved that he really did have too much time on his hands these days.
“Show him in,” he said, before adding, “Who is it, anyway?”
“Mr. Henry Clarke,” said the butler before turning on his heel to collect the man, and Gabriel rather wished the butler hadn’t been so hasty in his retreat. Gabriel was, unfortunately, well aware of Henry Clarke. Elizabeth’s cousin, and a man that he had met on a few occasions, none of which Gabriel remembered with much fondness. The man was like a rat, looking to ferret out the best morsels of everything for himself, not caring about the means in which he found them or what he left behind.
Gabriel remembered the way he had always spoken of Elizabeth and recalled Thomas’ disgust with his own grandson.
And then— here he was.
“Ah, your grace,” Clarke said, entering and bowing deeply, to which Gabriel waved a hand to force him up. He did not rise himself, but bid Clarke take a seat in the chair across from him. Gabriel had settled himself in the corner of his deep brown leather chesterfield, from where he could look out of the window across the room. He wasn’t sure why, but he enjoyed the view of the gardens and the mews beyond his London townhome, which was large by most standards, as one of the most opulent in Mayfair. He hoped Clarke was suitably impressed, despite the fact he had provided the man with the most uncomfortable chair in the room, a wooden straight back chair where Gabriel’s mother liked to sit as her back had always bothered her.
Gabriel wasted no time on idle chatter with the man.
“What brings you here at such an hour, Clarke?” he asked, picking up a cheroot and lighting it, inhaling without offering Clarke one, despite the fact the man gazed at it rather longingly.
“I, ah— a matter of business, I suppose you could say.”
“Very well. Continue.”
“As you know, my grandfather, Thomas Clarke, recently passed.”
“I am aware,” Gabriel said dryly. “I was at his funeral.”
“Of course,” said Clarke as he smoothed his hands down his jacket. “He was, as you know, the senior partner of Clarke & Co.”
“Of course I know this.” Gabriel took another puff as he crossed one leg over the other.
“Right. Well, then I assume you know the terms of his will?”
That gave Gabriel pause.
“Actually, I am not entirely familiar on the details.”
“Oh!” Clarke said, looking pleased that he had information Gabriel did not, despite the fact that as the man’s grandson he would have actually been present at the reading of the will. “Well, my grandfather clearly allowed emotion to overtake him at the end of his life, for, outside of a few small stipends, he left all of his assets, funds, home, and senior partnership to one person.”
Surely the man had more sense than to have left it all to Clarke.
But then the man’s eyes narrowed, hatred filling his face, and Gabriel’s faith in Thomas Clarke was restored.
“He left it to my cousin — Elizabeth.”
As much as this bit of information shocked Gabriel, he took a deep inhale of the cheroot in an attempt to hide his thoughts. Elizabeth? She had not mentioned a word of this the other night. But then, she likely wouldn’t have said anything unless she had been directly asked about it.
“That is… interesting,” he finally managed.
Clarke snorted. “Yes, well, it’s ridiculous. She cannot seriously think she is going to run such a business, can she? It is not done, not at all.”
“Actually,” Gabriel said, cocking his head as he thought of it, “I believe it has been done before in some of England’s other banks. Some women choose to take a more active role than others, but she wouldn’t be the first to do so.”
“I do not care if there is precedence or not. I am fighting this!” Clarke said, rising in his anger, and Gabriel watched him, amused at how worked up he had become. “My grandfather had no right to do this. No right at all! Something must be done about it all. First, I must contest the will. However, I am aware that may not necessarily work, so I do have one other thought as to how I could set this all to rights. Which is why I am here.”
