Music Monday: Welcome Home for the Holiday (Howard Eddy)

“What do you think?” Fred asked peering over Whit’s shoulder as they scanned the columns of numbers in the household accounts.

“He is an excellent manager,” said Whit, scratching a few more numbers onto his paper. “Rosemoore is solvent and flourishing.” He slipped the paper into his pocket as he heard someone approaching. “And that is the sort of work I hope that my wife will do. I expect I will have to check the accounts for accuracy and settle the bills, but she will keep them.” He nodded to Nicholas and placed the book back on the shelf where they had found it.

“Did you go through them all?” Nicholas asked, taking off his jacket and tossing it into a chair near the window. “I thought you intended to call at Longbourn.”

Whit looked out the window. “Blast, that took longer than I expected. I suppose it would not be the thing to call at this hour?”

Nicholas’s brows rose, and he gave Whit a look of disbelief. “How did you find my work?”

“Well-organized and impressively thorough,” replied Whit, taking a seat near Fred.

“I found it confusing,” admitted Fred. “Father never showed me any of those.”

“Father found them confusing,” said Nicholas, dropping into his chair with a glass of brandy in his hand. He tipped his head toward the decanter. “Help yourselves, but only in small doses.” He held up two fingers indicating the limit. “That is to last me another week.”

“Is everything rationed?” asked Fred as he carefully measured out the allotted amount of beverage.

Nicholas chuckled. “No, just a few things such as that brandy. It is not the cheap stuff, but rather a small indulgence that allows me to post Father’s bills with some semblance of composure.” At the moment the burning of the liquid as it slid down his throat was to help him deal not only with his brother and Whit and whatever scheme they were about, but it was also intended to dull the pang of guilt he felt over having offended Mary.

“Running an estate seems more involved than I imagined,” said Fred.

“It is work.” Nicholas gave his brother an inquisitive look. “Why are you finally interested in finances?”

“Women,” said Whit. “How much do you suppose the expenses of a wife might run? There are dresses, hats, fripperies and the like. Not to mention food and parties. Certainly, a gentleman would have more callers once there is a lady to entertain the guests, would he not?”

Nicholas nodded. “And children. You mustn’t forget that children are a hazard of certain privileges of marriage.” He leveled his brother with a stern stare.

“I am not a rake,” muttered Fred.

Whit shrugged. “I might become one if I cannot find an acceptable wife.”

Nicholas shook his head. “Neither of you are ready to take a wife.”

“Are you?” Whit asked over the rim of his glass. “What would be the cost of such a venture?”

“About half the amount I send to Bath.” Nicholas emptied his glass and placed it on his desk. “So, no, I am not.”

Whit shrugged. “It seems you have sufficient to spend that amount.”

“Until a crop does not do well, or Father decides a new mount is needed to parade about town.”

Whit nodded. “So greater reserves are needed?” He also placed an empty glass on the desk. “Six months worth would you say?”

Nicholas blinked and nodded. He had not expected such an astute question from a friend of his brother. “As I am certain you know, I have two-thirds that amount at present. Another season or two without any catastrophes from any quarter and I might be able to consider a bride.” He must remember to not drink brandy until all sources of annoyance had left his study next time, for apparently, the comforting liquid loosened his tongue.

“What if we,” Whit motioned between himself and Fred, “were to assist you? Earn a bit to add to the coffers? Would you look for a wife if you had five months in reserve?” Whit held up a hand. “Fred will keep his expenses low, and if we earn a bit of blunt, we will donate it to your cause.”

“Why would you do that? Not that I am opposed to Fred learning to manage his expenses or the idea of a wife, but why should you care if either of those things ever happen?”

Whit stood and moved behind his chair ready to take his leave. “Rosemoore is dull, and you are rather irascible. The right woman could cure both before there is no hope of a recovery. One Mr. Halward is enough for Hertfordshire, and you are well on your way to becoming every bit as miserable.” Whit bowed and with a nod of his head for Fred to follow, left the room.

“Grab some coins and your greatcoat,” whispered Whit as they moved down the hall. “Wickham will be playing cards tonight, and he is an easy mark. I dare say, we can double our money and then arrange for a bigger event where we could win more — that is if you are up to riding against Wickham.”

Fred paused to consider the thought. “But if we lose?”

“That will not happen. Aside from your brother, you are the best rider I have seen. However, if needed, I will write to my father to cover the expense and take my chances with being sent to sea.” He grabbed Fred by the shoulders. “But, that will not happen, for we will not lose — although, tonight, you will lose. We must make Wickham think he has a chance against you. A friendly ride out after the game with a small wager, and then we beg him to let us attempt to win it back — along with additional money from his friends.” Whit slapped Fred on the back. “If not for that lad carrying the milk, the scheme would have worked on Allston.” He chuckled. “Actually, it did work.  We just were not allowed to collect, but this time, there will be no lad with milk and no Mr. Frohock to keep us from our winnings and your brother from marrying.”

from A Very Mary Christmas