“Of course, you are not expected to have the clearest of minds in such a time,” Louisa said attempting to erase any guilt Isabella might feel on her state of propriety.
“That awful man,” Isabella stated, now with her green eyes full of anger. “He didn’t even stand at my entrance, and in truth, I didn’t see him at all from his chair at the back of the office till Mr. Jenkins motioned to him during the conversation.”
Isabella thought back to that horrible meeting four years earlier. She had been barely seventeen at the time, having completed her schooling and finished her first season out among society.
It was a small dinner party that her father was having at their very own Rosewater house. She had been all aglow with the excitement of her season and the joy of having her father momentarily home with her.
Mr. Smith was there, of course, since he was Baron Leinster's closest friend and business partner. Isabella had not paid him much attention as he was even older than her father and she could never imagine him having interest in such a young girl.
As the evening transpired, however, Mr. Smith found a chance to enter into a private conversation with Isabella. It was then that he requested that she consider him a suitor and accept his proposal of marriage.
Isabella was so shocked by the declaration that all she managed to say was ‘but you are so old.’ It was probably not the most polite thing for her to say, but so often when she was shocked, she tended to speak truths without thinking.
Isabella was young and full of spirit. She had received much attention from various social gatherings of the season. She was not so conceited enough to think she was above those outside the peerage. Isabella had always assumed that with her father's honorary title she would find herself a gentleman in the society she had been raised to be a part of.
Of course, having affection for her future husband was a necessity for her, his status had not been. Even so, she would never have imagined marrying such an older, coarse man at such a young age.
She did her best to regain her composure and thank Mr. Smith but politely decline. He became enraged by her very respectable but negative answer and made quite a scene of it.
From that day on, Isabella had done everything in her power to not be in the company of Mr. Smith. It was not always an easy task when he had such close financial relationships with her father.
“Mr. Jenkins informed me that my father had left his import and export business to Mr. Smith.”
“I suppose that seems reasonable enough,” Louisa said. “After all, as partner, it would only be right that he inherit the whole of the business. And I suppose you are to be left Rosewater house and a living?”
“That is the worst of it. Mr. Jenkins informed me that all of my father’s estates had been specifically put in the charge of Mr. Smith, having no other male family member. He then informed me that my father had also collected a large sum of debts,” she lowered her voice, “gambling.”
“Oh dear. Had you any idea of these debts?”
“I was aware of his enjoyment of gentlemanly horse races. I suspected the thrill of it was much like that of a boy crossing the sea. But I had no idea that he was in such a poor situation.”
“What does this mean?” Louisa asked with fear in her soft doe eyes.
“Well, Mr. Jenkins said that he had been in conference with Mr. Smith all morning and had made several arrangements.”
That moment, when she finally looked over her shoulder to find Mr. Smith sitting behind her would most likely haunt her the rest of her days.
He had stood then and walked forward, wholly unearthing himself from the morning shadows the windowless office provided.
He was much older now than would be expected for the four years that had passed since his proposition. His hair was long and straggly on the sides and completely missing on top. Instead of choosing to wear a wig, he tied the straggled strands back with a ribbon.
His face was worn and marked by the years he, himself, had spent as captain on a merchant ship before striking business with Baron Leinster.
Though his clothes were of a gentlemanly style, they were worn and soiled badly. The edges of his coat were stained with dirt.
Undoubtedly, his lifelong bachelorhood had led to the inferior care of his outward appearance. He smiled smugly, showing his blackened tooth, something she remembered quite clearly from her first encounter with him.
Quite awkwardly Mr. Jenkins had fiddled with some paperwork on his desk. He was a rather young man for his position, only recently taken on by her father. Her interactions with him, however few, had always been enjoyable ones.
Usually, he had a jolly expression to his eyes, especially since the birth of his first child.
Isabella wasn’t sure she had ever seen Mr. Jenkins so uncomfortable, even when he had informed her of her father’s passing.
“As the benefactor of your father’s estate, Mr. Smith here has decided to sell all assets in order to pay off the debts incurred, including Rosewater house and everything in it.”
“But that is my home!” Isabella said with a raised voice. “Where am I to live?”
Isabella could not bear to take her eyes off Mr. Jenkins to turn to the scoundrel behind her. Most certainly he was enjoying the destitute situation he had put her in.
“I have spoken of this very concern with Mr. Smith at length,” Mr. Jenkins replied, obviously understanding her fear. “He feels, as sole proprietor, he is, and I rightly agree, responsible for your safety and security.”
Isabella stood up from her spot, forgetting all dignity, “I won’t marry him!”
Mr. Jenkins looked at her apologetically, whether from the necessity of marriage between a senior man and a young lady of one and twenty years or other less favorable options she wasn’t sure.
“Though I suggested such an arrangement, for the sake of your comfort, I was informed that such arrangements were no longer…no longer…” he hesitated to try to find the words, “no longer a possibility unless…” Mr. Jenkins gave a horribly painful sigh. “He would like you to ask him to take you in.”
“Absolutely not,” Isabella stated still standing, trembling with fear and embarrassment.
She could hear a tisk of disgust behind her but refused to turn to look at him.
“Before you speak Miss Isabella, I encourage you to consider your situation. Mr. Smith does intend to sell all valuable possessions. Even so, it will just barely cover your father's debts. Without such an arrangement I cannot imagine how you will see to your comfortable lifestyle.
“Then I shan't live as I have thus far. I am not above being more frugal with my life. Am I not allowed some sort of income from my father’s business?”
“I did discuss such matters with Mr. Smith in the event that you did not want to…um…abide to his requirements. He agreed a yearly income was only fair since, after all, he was named your protector. The sum he agreed on was…well…it was fifty pounds a year.”