Colin sighed. “It went nowhere. No one will extend me any credit because they know I will never be able to repay it. It's terrible. I'm responsible for repaying thousands of pounds not spent by me, because the estate owes them, but no one will do anything to ease the burden on me. The land gets more depleted every year—it wasn't good when I got it—but I can't not plant because of the debts and the taxes. It's a Gordian knot and I have no sword. I almost wish…” Colin swallowed hard. “I wish the tenants would move to the city for work and I could just abandon the entire enterprise… but I can't. I would still owe the same and have even less means to pay it.”
“What are you going to do?” Christopher asked.
“Damned if I know, begging your pardon, Mrs. Bennett. I mean, I'm going to
economize every way I can and work as hard as I can and hope to stave off disaster for a few more years. After tonight, I'm giving up my London lodgings
and heading home. There's nothing more to be done here. I'll take stock of what I
have left. Perhaps parts from the worst of the tenant houses can be used to improve the ones that still have some life left in them, and then, if we can extract another crop this year… I don't know. The land needs to rest for several years,
but then no one will earn anything. It's an impossible mess.”
“I'm sorry, Colin,” Christopher told his friend. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless you have about thirty thousand pounds you don't need and won't
ask to have returned.”
It was a staggering sum, and Christopher, though quite well-to-do, had
nothing like that at his disposal. No one did.
Katerina laid her hand on Colin's arm. He looked at her. “I'm so terribly sorry, Lord Gelroy. May I… say a prayer for you?”
“You may,” he replied, one corner of his mouth twisting into a grimace. “I think the Lord is the only one who can help me now.”
“Then I shall do that,” she said firmly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bennett.”
“Well, good evening, friends.” Mrs. Wilder approached, ending the personal
conversation.
“Good evening, Mrs. Wilder,” Christopher greeted their hostess.
“Mr. Bennett, you are in disgrace tonight,” she teased.
“Why is that?” he raised his eyebrows, alert for the opportunity to banter.
“You and Mr. Cary both left last time without a word, so early, and you took
your poems with you. We had to improvise on the spot and found nothing to interest us.”
“I apologize. I…” he considered his words. “I had an emergency.”
“Yes, I know,” Mrs. Wilder's teasing tone turned serious.
“You do?” Oh, dear. This can't be good.
She raised one eyebrow. “Well, certain clues were left abandoned in my
retiring room. They told a very interesting story. Would you like them back?”
Katerina blanched. In the sudden crisis, they had abandoned not only her wrap but also—horrors—her corset. Finding an undergarment left behind was certain
to cause a scandal.
“Don't fret, dear,” Mrs. Wilder assured her, patting her arm. “Fortunately, I found it first and hid it away. You may have it back if you would like, but there's
quite a quantity of blood on it.”
“I'm sure there is. I… we didn't…” she stammered, face burning.
Mrs. Wilder squeezed her hand soothingly. “I know what you did and did not
do in my retiring room, dear. Scandalous behavior does not generally cause bleeding in the middle of one's back.”
“Right.” Katerina put her hand to her forehead.
“And Mr. Bennett is a gentleman,” Mrs. Wilder added.
A sideways slant of her eyes revealed a telltale darkening along her
husband's cheekbones. Good. A shift in topic. “Yes. He is. I'm the most fortunate of women.”
