The servant led Charles and I through the spacious halls of the Gransville Estate. The idea that it would ever belong to me remained a far off fantasy despite my more frequent visits. An elaborate mural filled an entire wall while rich tapestries framed the windows. Polished candlesticks lined the white tiles, only adding to the sophisticated feel. I'd definetly be the dandiest Snyder to ever shine his shoe buckle.
Of course, if I actually did win the estate--and a healthy pile of the fortune with it--I was unsure how much of it I'd really be able to keep. The goal was to at least keep the estate as a visible cover-up for my lies. The fortune however, would go to paying off my debts back home, paying Charles in full for his services, paying back my loans, perhaps paying the hotel, and--as of now-- wedding funds.
I quickly shook the thought from my head. Just the word still made my stomach drop and head spin. Instead, I turned my attentions to the servant ahead of us.
He eventually led us to a intricately carved door and stepped in first to announce us before we entered.
It was all habit now. The quick brush at the hair and immediate smile. Keeping the image wasn't near as enjoyable as it was at the ball but that was probably because the challenge had faded. Elliot Samuelson was now established in everyone's minds; I simply had to go through the motions.
Mr. Harrington's faint but friendly voice welcomed us in. The first thing that registered was the tall form who's back was to us.
"Mr. Samuelson and Mr. Lettington," his wrinkles increased with his smile, "I forgot you two were coming this morning but no matter. Do you know Mr. Nathaniel Scott?"
The tall figure turned his head to tip his hat and I cordially did the same, nothing but a cold glance passing between us.
"Mr. Scott?" Charles grinned and stepped forward to shake his hand, "When did you return?"
He smiled in turn, "Only recently, Mr. Lettington."
"So you are aquainted. Good," the estate owner rested his elbows on his desk, "Now. As I was just telling Mr. Nathaniel here, my wife and I want to retire from this place and find a nice home by the seashore for our health. And, as you all know, I am at loss of an heir to inherit it. I've discussed options with both of you seperatly but I suppose it would be good to discuss it with both of you here. You are competitors but I perhaps this will make the process smoother."
Charles smiled, "Oh absolutely, sir. Actually, I was just telling Elliot..."
Their conversation became background noise as I felt Nathaniel glaring at me. I slowly turned my head and rose my eyebrows questioningly.
"Don't play innocent," he growled, low enough for only my ears, "What do you think you're doing?"
His question confused me, "I'm trying to listen to Mr. Harrington, if you don't mind."
"You know what I mean," he snarled, "You have a lot of things up your sleeve, Snyder, but I'm afraid it's going to take more than a nifty trick to support one Miss Ainsworth. Honorably at least."
Oh. That. A smile swung on my face and I chuckled, "Oh don't you worry, Mr. Scott. I've got it all under control."
"What?" he smirked, "You're going to take her home to your family farm? I'm sure Mr. Ainsworth would be just tickled with the prospect."
"And, why are you so concerned?" I asked, feigning complete casualness, "It wouldn't affect you in any way...would it?"
"Well of course not, but--"
"Good," I adjusted my glove and then gave him a jaunty expression, "Because I doubt Mr. Harrington is fond of jealousy."
His face reddened with anger and his fists clenched. Luckily, before any of us broke out in a wrestling match on the tiles, Charles turned back towards us,
"Isn't that right, dear cousin?"
"Oh," I jerked back to attention, "Yes. Quite right."
From the corner of my eye Nathaniel shook his head. I ignored him though. With all the people I was already trying to please, I decided his opinnion was one I could let go. Though keeping him an enemy likely wasn't a smart move either, letting him get the best of me would be worse. Afterall, he was my competitor.
The rest of the business discussion went rather smoothly. Mr. Harrington admitted that he had equal approval of both of us and fiddled with the idea of a great auction to help him with the final decision. That could possibly mean I'd have to loan more from the bank but I doubted that be a problem. Afterall, Mr. Ainsworth now saw this as the potential future home for his daughter.
We bid a formal farewell to Mr. Harrington before the servant led us all to the door.
"Goodbye Mr. Scott," Charles shook his hand once more, "May the best man win."
"Yes," he smiled, then turning his icy gaze my way again, "The best man indeed."
Luckily Charles hadn't caught the open challenge behind those eyes and stepped aside so I might bid my own farewell.
We exchanged fake smiles and shook hands before he added in a low voice, "Or, might I add, the best fraud."
It was true. Poor Mr. Harrington had no idea who he was really dealing with. Either the grand estate would go to a two-faced thief or a dolled-up stablehand--whoever could pull off the pompous peacock the best.
As we walked home I expected the rest of the day to be rather uneventful other than the usual congratulations and wishes of luck I recieved on the street. I was glad to have left the constant pressure of Nathaniel's presence and was determined to enjoy the walk as best as I could. One casual sentence from Charles hinted otherwise.
"Oh look, Elliot. It's Mr. Hodges."
The color drained from my face when I spotted him. He was walking at a furious pace, head down, and appeared to be muttering to himself. I had escaped the frying pan only to fall into the fire.
"Good morning, parisher!" Charles innocently called out, "How's the new employment going for you?"
He stopped in his tracks and looked up, trying to pinpoint who had called out to him in all the bustle. Charles waved to assist him and he immediatly turned his furious pace towards us. Meanwhile, I tried my best to look calm and confident, hiding my reeling nerves. I wasn't sure why I feared him so much. Nathaniel could knock me senseless quicker than this Hodges could. A parisher couldn't harm anyone anyways. And he wasn't the banker; he couldn't cut me off from anything I especially needed. Except maybe a wedding license but that would be more of a favor. No, there was just something about the man that made him intimidating. Perhaps it was just his obvious protectiveness of Miss Ainsworth. It was like dealing with her older brother.
"Good morning Mr. Lettington, Mr. Samuelson," he greeted, "How are you faring?"
"Very well, thank you," Charles answered, "How is the parish?"
He smiled, "More than suitable. I don't think there's been a nicer."
I remained in a content silence, hoping he'd simply talk to Charles and be on his way. Though my goal was to appear casual, I knew better than to strike up a conversation like nothing had happened. The entire town knew.
"Actually, Mr. Lettington, your cousin was just the man I was looking for. Do mind if I speak with him for a moment?"
My hopes were tragically dashed.
"Of course!" he stepped aside, "I'll just meet you at my house Elliot. Mrs. Lettington is making supper for both of us."
Oh to be as innocent and unassuming as Charles Lettington. To just leave people out in the middle of a hurricane and be blissfully unaware, with only simple thoughts like supper to rule one's mind.
"Listen," he dove in, "I don't know who you are, Mr. Samuelson, but--as the man who is to grant you your wedding license--I demand to know more details about this engagement of yours."
"There's not much to tell," I shrugged, "Mr. Ainsworth called me into his office and we made an agreement. Is there something wrong?"
There obviously was but it was nothing that could initially keep him from giving me a license.
"Have you talked to Miss Ainsworth about it?"
"Haven't had the chance, I'm afraid."
He scowled and glared up at me. His voice softened to a threatening low and I knew I was in for it.
"Is this how you high-class men work; You just go about your business throwing your weight around on people? Has it ever crossed your precious little mind that maybe they have their own weight to carry?"
I was completely confused. I wasn't forcing anyone to anything. Actually I had come to see myself as the prisoner in all of this.
"And," I didn't pull anything this time, honestly curious, "who are you reffering too?"
His eyes widened and he stepped back, "Are you daft?!"
The outburst from the gentle clergyman made me jump.
He shook his head, "I'm not going to play your game. You know exactly who I'm reffering too. And if there is any way I can stop this, so help me I will!"
With that and a cleverly placed foot on my toes, he was off.
I rubbed my sore foot and tried to sort it out. Was he reffering to himself? Was I forcing him to give a license to something he didn't agree with? No that wasn't right. He had the only authority there. Was he talking about Nora? I was sure she had talked it over with her father before this whole mess. I wasn't forcing her either...was I?
My thoughts came to another crashing halt as I felt a thin hand grip my shoulder and whirl me around.
"Ms. Evans," I grinned, "What a pleasant surprise."
A mocking smile twisted her lips and she held up an empty glove, "Mr. Samuelson."
Smack!
Of course, if I actually did win the estate--and a healthy pile of the fortune with it--I was unsure how much of it I'd really be able to keep. The goal was to at least keep the estate as a visible cover-up for my lies. The fortune however, would go to paying off my debts back home, paying Charles in full for his services, paying back my loans, perhaps paying the hotel, and--as of now-- wedding funds.
I quickly shook the thought from my head. Just the word still made my stomach drop and head spin. Instead, I turned my attentions to the servant ahead of us.
He eventually led us to a intricately carved door and stepped in first to announce us before we entered.
It was all habit now. The quick brush at the hair and immediate smile. Keeping the image wasn't near as enjoyable as it was at the ball but that was probably because the challenge had faded. Elliot Samuelson was now established in everyone's minds; I simply had to go through the motions.
Mr. Harrington's faint but friendly voice welcomed us in. The first thing that registered was the tall form who's back was to us.
"Mr. Samuelson and Mr. Lettington," his wrinkles increased with his smile, "I forgot you two were coming this morning but no matter. Do you know Mr. Nathaniel Scott?"
The tall figure turned his head to tip his hat and I cordially did the same, nothing but a cold glance passing between us.
"Mr. Scott?" Charles grinned and stepped forward to shake his hand, "When did you return?"
He smiled in turn, "Only recently, Mr. Lettington."
"So you are aquainted. Good," the estate owner rested his elbows on his desk, "Now. As I was just telling Mr. Nathaniel here, my wife and I want to retire from this place and find a nice home by the seashore for our health. And, as you all know, I am at loss of an heir to inherit it. I've discussed options with both of you seperatly but I suppose it would be good to discuss it with both of you here. You are competitors but I perhaps this will make the process smoother."
Charles smiled, "Oh absolutely, sir. Actually, I was just telling Elliot..."
Their conversation became background noise as I felt Nathaniel glaring at me. I slowly turned my head and rose my eyebrows questioningly.
"Don't play innocent," he growled, low enough for only my ears, "What do you think you're doing?"
His question confused me, "I'm trying to listen to Mr. Harrington, if you don't mind."
"You know what I mean," he snarled, "You have a lot of things up your sleeve, Snyder, but I'm afraid it's going to take more than a nifty trick to support one Miss Ainsworth. Honorably at least."
Oh. That. A smile swung on my face and I chuckled, "Oh don't you worry, Mr. Scott. I've got it all under control."
"What?" he smirked, "You're going to take her home to your family farm? I'm sure Mr. Ainsworth would be just tickled with the prospect."
"And, why are you so concerned?" I asked, feigning complete casualness, "It wouldn't affect you in any way...would it?"
"Well of course not, but--"
"Good," I adjusted my glove and then gave him a jaunty expression, "Because I doubt Mr. Harrington is fond of jealousy."
His face reddened with anger and his fists clenched. Luckily, before any of us broke out in a wrestling match on the tiles, Charles turned back towards us,
"Isn't that right, dear cousin?"
"Oh," I jerked back to attention, "Yes. Quite right."
From the corner of my eye Nathaniel shook his head. I ignored him though. With all the people I was already trying to please, I decided his opinnion was one I could let go. Though keeping him an enemy likely wasn't a smart move either, letting him get the best of me would be worse. Afterall, he was my competitor.
The rest of the business discussion went rather smoothly. Mr. Harrington admitted that he had equal approval of both of us and fiddled with the idea of a great auction to help him with the final decision. That could possibly mean I'd have to loan more from the bank but I doubted that be a problem. Afterall, Mr. Ainsworth now saw this as the potential future home for his daughter.
We bid a formal farewell to Mr. Harrington before the servant led us all to the door.
"Goodbye Mr. Scott," Charles shook his hand once more, "May the best man win."
"Yes," he smiled, then turning his icy gaze my way again, "The best man indeed."
Luckily Charles hadn't caught the open challenge behind those eyes and stepped aside so I might bid my own farewell.
We exchanged fake smiles and shook hands before he added in a low voice, "Or, might I add, the best fraud."
It was true. Poor Mr. Harrington had no idea who he was really dealing with. Either the grand estate would go to a two-faced thief or a dolled-up stablehand--whoever could pull off the pompous peacock the best.
***
As we walked home I expected the rest of the day to be rather uneventful other than the usual congratulations and wishes of luck I recieved on the street. I was glad to have left the constant pressure of Nathaniel's presence and was determined to enjoy the walk as best as I could. One casual sentence from Charles hinted otherwise.
"Oh look, Elliot. It's Mr. Hodges."
The color drained from my face when I spotted him. He was walking at a furious pace, head down, and appeared to be muttering to himself. I had escaped the frying pan only to fall into the fire.
"Good morning, parisher!" Charles innocently called out, "How's the new employment going for you?"
He stopped in his tracks and looked up, trying to pinpoint who had called out to him in all the bustle. Charles waved to assist him and he immediatly turned his furious pace towards us. Meanwhile, I tried my best to look calm and confident, hiding my reeling nerves. I wasn't sure why I feared him so much. Nathaniel could knock me senseless quicker than this Hodges could. A parisher couldn't harm anyone anyways. And he wasn't the banker; he couldn't cut me off from anything I especially needed. Except maybe a wedding license but that would be more of a favor. No, there was just something about the man that made him intimidating. Perhaps it was just his obvious protectiveness of Miss Ainsworth. It was like dealing with her older brother.
"Good morning Mr. Lettington, Mr. Samuelson," he greeted, "How are you faring?"
"Very well, thank you," Charles answered, "How is the parish?"
He smiled, "More than suitable. I don't think there's been a nicer."
I remained in a content silence, hoping he'd simply talk to Charles and be on his way. Though my goal was to appear casual, I knew better than to strike up a conversation like nothing had happened. The entire town knew.
"Actually, Mr. Lettington, your cousin was just the man I was looking for. Do mind if I speak with him for a moment?"
My hopes were tragically dashed.
"Of course!" he stepped aside, "I'll just meet you at my house Elliot. Mrs. Lettington is making supper for both of us."
Oh to be as innocent and unassuming as Charles Lettington. To just leave people out in the middle of a hurricane and be blissfully unaware, with only simple thoughts like supper to rule one's mind.
"Listen," he dove in, "I don't know who you are, Mr. Samuelson, but--as the man who is to grant you your wedding license--I demand to know more details about this engagement of yours."
"There's not much to tell," I shrugged, "Mr. Ainsworth called me into his office and we made an agreement. Is there something wrong?"
There obviously was but it was nothing that could initially keep him from giving me a license.
"Have you talked to Miss Ainsworth about it?"
"Haven't had the chance, I'm afraid."
He scowled and glared up at me. His voice softened to a threatening low and I knew I was in for it.
"Is this how you high-class men work; You just go about your business throwing your weight around on people? Has it ever crossed your precious little mind that maybe they have their own weight to carry?"
I was completely confused. I wasn't forcing anyone to anything. Actually I had come to see myself as the prisoner in all of this.
"And," I didn't pull anything this time, honestly curious, "who are you reffering too?"
His eyes widened and he stepped back, "Are you daft?!"
The outburst from the gentle clergyman made me jump.
He shook his head, "I'm not going to play your game. You know exactly who I'm reffering too. And if there is any way I can stop this, so help me I will!"
With that and a cleverly placed foot on my toes, he was off.
I rubbed my sore foot and tried to sort it out. Was he reffering to himself? Was I forcing him to give a license to something he didn't agree with? No that wasn't right. He had the only authority there. Was he talking about Nora? I was sure she had talked it over with her father before this whole mess. I wasn't forcing her either...was I?
My thoughts came to another crashing halt as I felt a thin hand grip my shoulder and whirl me around.
"Ms. Evans," I grinned, "What a pleasant surprise."
A mocking smile twisted her lips and she held up an empty glove, "Mr. Samuelson."
Smack!
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