Page 35 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
What a pity Lawrence hadn’t. She’d failed by not properly instilling that value in him.
She put down her pencil, leaned back in her chair and pinched the area above her nose. Perhaps she should investigate getting some spectacles. The numbers occasionally floated on the page. If she glanced away periodically, she didn’t get a headache. But she must focus on the numbers, the better to get this onerous chore done.
Just like her long-dead husband, she rarely used the library. The room, filled with bookcases and framed portraits of Traylor men, was always in shadow, even on a bright morning. Decorated with a dark patterned carpet and hunter green walls, it was an oppressive room, one giving her the impression of walking into a forest cave.
Here was where she disciplined servants, meted out merit raises, went over the household accounts, and wrote the business correspondence that made her slightly nauseous. She despised those letters of an official nature, such as the one to her solicitor, asking to be informed of the exact state of their finances and her return reply when the news had been received.
Their fates were in the hands of a timid girl, willing enough to traipse off to Scotland. Whether Virginia would be able to seduce a Scotsman was another thing. Enid had heard they were fierce creatures, dressing in kilts with nothing beneath them. She honestly hadn’t believed the story until a dear friend assured her it was true.
Perhaps the Scotsman in question would be so worked up by the wool rubbing against his member he’d toss Virginia to the ground the minute she arrived and have his way with her.
She could only pray something of the sort would happen.
She put down her pencil, rubbed at the blister forming on her middle finger. Tallying the sums again would not help her. On paper, the family was wealthy because of the rent and profit from the farms. But once the title went to Jeremy, so did all the income from the entailed property. They would be dependent on charity.
Enid doubted Jeremy would take them in as poor relatives. All these years, they’d managed a cordial relationship, but a distant one. He was a good enough man, tall, thin, with a receding chin and hairline, teeth regrettably turning brown, and a cringeworthy laugh.
His wife was his match in every way. Her hairline didn’t recede as much as her chin, but her laugh was as obnoxious. Her only saving grace was that she wasn’t amused often.
Their children, shockingly, were all attractive, but were very noisy and intrusive creatures.
No, she couldn’t imagine living with Jeremy, sitting in the corner knitting scarves for the children.
Eudora could possibly marry, but she needed a new wardrobe and some money before sending her out into the marriage mart again. Ellice was still too young, but only by a year or two. By the time she was ready for a season, they would be lucky to have a roof over their heads.
She heard Ellice laugh, followed by Eudora’s calm voice. Every day since Virginia had been gone, they’d asked about her. Was she well at her friend’s house? Would she return soon? Of course, they understood she needed to escape London for a bit. Being here constantly brought Lawrence to mind.
It had been a silly excuse for Virginia’s absence, but Ellice and Eudora accepted it because they were softhearted and genuinely lovely people. How could Lawrence have thought to punish his sisters so? What would happen to her darling girls?
She had no relatives to speak of. Only an ancient aunt who couldn’t accommodate the four of them along with their staff, or what staff she could still retain. She would have to dismiss most of the servants, which meant they’d have to do without much help. That fact, more than any other, brought home the disaster of their situation. Neither of her daughters had ever washed a pot or their own clothing.
Poverty would ensure they learned quickly. They’d lose the ability to buy a book or a bottle of perfume. They’d never marry. What kind of mother would she be if that happened?
She frowned down at the column of figures again. She needed to start austerity measures. She’d look at all the cuts of meat Cook ordered herself, inform the merchants that she was to approve all expenses.
Could they go another year without new uniforms?
Cook was baking bread, and the smell of it wafted into the room. How well were they being fed? Couldn’t they cut down somewhere? Did they need to eat all those sweets? Were there more economical meals Cook could prepare?
A sound caused her to glance up. Paul stood there.
Although he’d been Lawrence’s attendant, she hadn’t had the heart to dismiss him after her son’s death. Indeed, Paul had been useful in a great many ways. Besides, she owed him some gratitude for alerting them to what Lawrence was doing. Pity that they couldn’t have prevented him from spending all the money.
Unfortunately, Paul would have to be one of those she let go, but she wasn’t in the mood to do it right this minute.
“If you wish to meet with me,” she said, “I’ll see you in a few hours. Until then, if you don’t mind, Paul, I would like some privacy.”
She expected him to leave the room soundlessly in that way he had. Glancing up, it was to find him still there and smiling at her.
“What is it, Paul?”
“I require a few minutes of your time, your ladyship,” he said. “It’s important.”
Annoyed, she sat back in the chair. “I don’t wish to be disturbed right now. Whatever it is can wait, I’m sure.”
“Perhaps Lawrence’s cousin will be interested, then.”
She put down her pencil, folded one hand over the other and composed her expression.
