Swiping back his overgrown hair, Thomas strode into the drawing room. "Emily," he called, "I've just come from the solicitor. I'm afraid I have some bad news."
His sister was seated at the window, her feet tucked in and silk slippers strewn on the pale blue rug. Her wide, grey eyes turned to him, away from what must have been a sad book considering the tears bright on her round cheeks.
"Excellent, you've caught me at the right moment for bad news. This book has had me in stitches all morning, and I'm quite ready to tackle anything depressing you throw at me." Her book thudded shut as she turned partway to face him with a welcoming smile, her pink skirts rucked up, and her brunette curls messy atop her head.
Thomas sighed. "Do be serious, Emmy. This is hardly going to be a laughing matter."
"That's exactly what I'm hoping for, brother dearest. A juicy piece of sadness will be much easier to bear after all this morning's cheer. What's happened? What did dear old Mr. Dominic say?"
"Your dear old Mr. Dominic turned the ripe age of twenty-five yesterday, so I'm sure he'll thank you not to age him needlessly," retorted Thomas, flipping up his coattails to sit on the spindly chair near Emily. Inching his way forward, cautious because he knew his late mother preferred fashion over durability. He could hear the chair creaking ominously.
"Our uncle has passed away," he announced, eyeing his sister closely.
"Oh dear! Which one? I do hope it's not Uncle Matthew; he's such a dear."
"Uncle Matthew passed away two years ago. It's-"
"Did he really? Oh! I do recall attending his funeral. Well, is it Uncle John? Or wait, did he pass away years ago too?"
"Dead and done for, four years ago. Do keep up, Emmy. Before you start listing all our departed family, it's Uncle Vincent who's decided to call it quits this time."
That gave her pause. Her forehead wrinkled as she frowned slightly.
"Ah! Villainous Uncle Vince is it?" she said softly. "It's a shame he's passed. I don't mean to be callous, but I decidedly do not- did not -like him. Wasn't he the one who told Mother and Papa that they weren't to expect any handouts if they decided to marry?"
"Well, may his soul repose in peace and all that," she continued in tones that belied her words. Thomas barked out a short laugh and stood.
Working his hand through his hair so that it stood up in soft spikes on the right, he gazed out the window past his sister. Carriages rolled past the pedestrian walkway with a blur of people dressed in the grey clothes common to their part of Town. The dreary, grim smog coated most of the building in a chalky, black substance that was difficult to dust off. It had irked his mother to no end that they had to live in 'destitution,' as she termed it when their father had died. But he had been glad for the reasonable rent prices and helped her manage their household accounts so that they could live within their means.
Living within their means meant fewer fineries, a negligible household, and a rented carriage for Town parties, but it also meant they had a secure lifestyle for which they didn't have to owe the notorious debtors. Not any more than their father had borrowed to sustain their childhood luxury.
But Uncle Vincent's passing meant something entirely different. Mr. Dominic had almost been sorrowful when he'd announced the Lovington's inheritance. Though the sorrow was likely for the damned stipulations that had landed in their laps with the inheritance.
He looked down at his sister, who was quiet in a way that was unlike her. Her nose wrinkled at him winsomely, grey eyes twinkling, and he felt something clench at his heart. He couldn't bring himself to tell her everything. Perhaps he could tell her just enough. Perhaps he could try to solve their inherited riddles by himself. She'd be upset enough with what he'd have to share.
"Well Tom? Don't make me tickle it out of you!" Emily grinned, wriggling her fingers threateningly at him.
Chuckling, he backed away. "Give it a try, Emmy, and I'll be happy to demonstrate why I've been the undefeated Lovington tickle champion, five years straight."
Raising a brow at the challenge, she giggled, "Bold claim from someone who said they were far too grown up for all that. But hold your fingers, is that all our youthful solicitor had to impart today?"
"That and the fact we've now inherited Uncle Vince's estate. He had no successors, so it's been left to us."
"Well, that is dire indeed," laughed Emily. "What a gloomy way of telling me we've suddenly inherited an income! You can't possibly think this is a bad thing, Tom."
"That's not all. We've also been left Carlsdale Manor, on the west coast. I don't know if you remember, you must have been about four years old then, but we visited Uncle Vincent at the Manor. It's a large spot with quite a few tenant farms."
"Hmm, I don't think I remember that. But that means we now have a place in the country, Tom! That's a famous thing. I do so love Helena's family estate, and now we have our own. But why are you frowning?" she said, surprised at her brother's averse reaction.
"I'm glad you enjoy country estates," said Thomas gently, "because the will stipulates we need to begin occupancy immediately and maintain residence for two entire years. Which means no extended stays in Town during that time."
Emily jumped from her relaxed seat, her book falling from her lap, producing a rather unladylike shriek.
Wincing, Thomas took another deep breath. Better to tell her everything, or almost everything, all at once.
"Brace yourself. Another stipulation is that either of the Lovingtons needs to produce an heir in that period. Or else we lose all the inheritance."
At this, Emily's face lost colour. "You must be joking Tom? Who would insist on something like that?"
"Villainous Uncle Vincent, that's who," shrugged Thomas miserably.
"Isn't there anything we can do? What does the infantile Dominic say about it?" she asked. Blotches of red were now high on her cheeks, and the laughter had disappeared from her eyes.
Thought if she could joke, she was taking it much better than he had in their solicitor's office.
"Mr. Dominic verified that the contents of the will were legal and binding. He was very sympathetic. Emphasised that it was up to us if we decided to accept the terms."
Hesitating, he continued softly, "But Emily, I'm not sure we can refuse."
"Why ever not?" she burst out, angry now. "We're not so poor as to be dictated to on the whims of a rather rotten uncle who didn't give a fig about us, alive and apparently even less so, dead."
"Some might say that leaving us his estate could be considered a kind gesture?" tried Thomas.
"Don't give me that! This inheritance is a leash to bind us to the country for two whole years, away from our friends and the life he didn't support our parents in leading. And why does he care so much about heirs when he didn't bother to produce one?"
"Touché," said Thomas softly. "Emmy, I know. You know that I understand. But yes, we really are that poor."
"What-" she started, but he didn't let her continue. He couldn't, not until he could say his piece and make her understand that he needed this. They needed this.
"Father's debtors are calling weekly now. Whatever meager amount Uncle's left us will make a significant dent in the debt. Enough so that we can pay them back in close to full by next month. It's not something we can refuse. Not even if we have to move away from everything we know. Not even if we, I have to marry and produce heirs in two years."
Emily had her lips pursed, arms crossed. He waited her out. She always frowned when she thought hard about something.
A beat passed. Two, four, six beats. She held the silence and his fears in the thin line of her mouth.
"Fine," she ground out. "Very well, I understand why we need to do this. But I'm not sure I'm ever going to be happy about it."
His relief was probably palpable because her frown softened, and she quirked her lips at him.
"But what do you mean 'meager amount'?", she asked slowly. "Isn't the estate doing well?"
She was always a clever one, his sister. Though Thomas rather wished she hadn't cottoned on so quickly. But it was always going to come out one way or another.
Heaping on the bad news quickly he said, "'Doing well' is overstating it. Faring poorly would also be an overstatement; the place is shot to hell and I don't know why. What I gathered from Mr. Dominic was that Carlsdale Manor is to blame. Of course, Uncle is really to blame. But it's the Manor and the tenant farmers that are really struggling. I suppose having us live there for two years is meant to help salvage the situation somewhat."
"Lord, this just gets better", said Emily rolling her eyes. "So we rescue our finances only to be plunged into further restitution. Two years saving a dying estate? I suppose I can grudgingly embark on missionary work if it means a lifetime of driving away the creditors."
Barking out a short burst of laughter, Thomas strode to his sister and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you, Emmy," he said relieved at her concession, her support.
"Well it hardly as if it's a selfish endeavour," she said gruffly, wrinkling her nose at him again. "You're doing this for us and it would be beneath me to give us both a chance to fix Papa's mistakes."
"And in any case", she continued a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "it's going to be rather a fun adventure living in Carlsdale. If I remember Helena correctly, it's close to the Marsden estate isn't it? The Earl of Marsden took up occupancy with his mother last winter. Wouldn't it be fun to have a him for a neighbour?"
"What?", asked Thomas rather stupidly.
Her grin was the only warning he got before he was doubled over laughing from her poking at his sides and tickling furiously. Backing away, he had to shout "Truce" between bursts of wild laughter, before she let off.
"What Marsden-?", he gasped as she had started to the window to slide her slippers back on her feet. Her soft silk skirts swished around her, and she barely glanced around, focused on picking up her book.
"Why, Henry Marsden! He inherited the Marsden estate last year. You must've crossed paths sometime in school. Perhaps not, he is a few years older than you are. Helena's always said that he's a bit more of a dragon than he let's on. Apparently he was responsible for John Mattleowe being cut from society a few Seasons ago. No man was more deserving of the cut, especially after what he did to Louisa."
"Henry Marsden, hmm. No I don't think I've ever met the fellow", muttered Thomas. "Perhaps I can visit him once we've settled in to discuss the estates."
"Good idea! Perhaps I'll join you. I've always wanted to meet a rake", she said winningly at him as she crossed the room to leave.
Rolling his eyes, Thomas said, "I can safely assure you that rakes are off the table in your future. Though I'm not sure who I'd be protecting by leaving you behind."
A soft chuckle followed his words as Emily spun around just outside the door. "Why Tom dearest, that's rather the point isn't it? The Lovington siblings are on the hunt."
With that and a slightly tearful smile, she swished away. Thomas was left alone in the blue drawing room with the clamour of his thoughts. On the hunt indeed, for a wife. Only ever a wife. According to society, husbands were out of the question, except for the wives of course.
Sighing he swiped his hair back and stiffened his spine. He had an estate to save, a wife to hunt and marry, and heirs to produce. But first, he desperately needed a brandy.