It is this editor’s hope, however, that a reconciliation can be made between the happy lovers.
Priscilla glared at the words. Why hope for that? Not when Charles was free.
The thought made her whole body tingle. Free, free to love her if he wished. Their separation must be true; it was in the newspaper.
Charles was free. He would not be marrying Miss Lloyd the day after tomorrow.
“But then, Miss Lloyd is so young,” Mrs. Seton mused. “She may decide not to marry for a few years, and wait for a few more gentlemen to come out into society – and she has enough of a dowry to wait.”
Priscilla almost dropped the newspaper. She had completely forgotten about the dowry, the reason Charles had refused to break the engagement, despite his great affection for her. The dowry. The Orrinshire estate needed the dowry, or it would fall into ruin.
Here she was, selfish creature, rejoicing that Charles was finally free to love her, to marry her – and she had completely forgotten the reason they could not be together in the first place.
The Orrinshires were ruined. It must have been Frances who had ended their engagement so soon before the wedding.
What was Charles going to do?
“Her dowry is large,” she said eventually, aware her mother was waiting for a response. “Twenty thousand pounds, I have heard.”
Mrs. Seton snorted. “I do not know why you are impressed, Priscilla, you have half that.”
The words did not sink into Priscilla’s ears for a moment. Then she did drop the newspaper.
“Half that?” she said, staring at her mother aghast. “Do not say such things, Mother – I know I have two thousand, and I am grateful for it, but I will not be teased. Not today.”
Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. Ten thousand pounds – yes, if she had that sum, this entire situation would have been easy to resolve! She could have told Charles, and they could have been engaged these last two weeks.
But her mother was not smiling, a frown crinkling her forehead. “Priscilla,” she said quietly. “Come and sit here with me.”
Mrs. Seton turned and walked into the morning room. Priscilla hesitated and picked up the newspaper from the hallway floor before following her mother.
The older woman had settled herself gracefully into a chair. Priscilla dropped inelegantly into a chair opposite and attempted to fold the newspaper.
“Priscilla, listen to me and listen carefully. How much is your dowry?”
Priscilla looked up from the impossible to fold newspaper, hearing the concern and confusion in her mother’s voice. “Why, two thousand pounds. And I am not ungrateful. It is a large sum.”
Mrs. Seton looked as though she was controlling a very strong emotion. “And how do you know that?”
“I…” Priscilla started to say, but embarrassment crept over her cheeks. “Well, do not be shocked, but I…I overheard you once, talking about it with my Uncle Seton. I was not eavesdropping intentionally,” she said hastily. “I had come downstairs looking for a book, and the door was open, and I…”
Her voice trailed away. She did not expect her mother to be truly angry – it had been so long ago, and it was her own fortune, after all.
Laughter, however, she could never have predicted.
“Oh, Priscilla,” her mother said with a smile. “You were always able to get yourself into scrapes as a child, and here you are, in another one!”
Irritation curled at Priscilla’s heart. “I am not in a scrape!”
“Two thousand pounds,” Mrs. Seton mused. “Well, this explains everything. And I suppose this is what you have told people when they have inquired delicately?”
Priscilla colored slightly. It was not seemly to discuss something as pecuniary as money in good society, but her friends had known, and surely any gentlemen interested in her hand had applied to them for information?
“I suppose so, though indirectly from myself, I assure you,” she said stiffly. “And I do not see what is so funny about that.”
Mrs. Seton was laughing openly now. “Oh, my dear child – not two thousand, but ten thousand! Ten thousand! You must have misheard me when I spoke with my brother-in-law, and of course, I never thought to correct you because I assumed any gentleman interested in your hand would apply to me directly. You have not honestly been going around thinking you were only worth two thousand?”
Priscilla blinked. The words made sense individually, but she could not put them all together. “Ten thousand?” The words came out as a whisper.
Her mother nodded. “You are not quite equal to Miss Lloyd, though, as your mother, I naturally think you far more beautiful than she. But yes, you have half the fortune that Miss Lloyd has – and fortune it is. I remember your father saying, he thought…”
The words continued, but Priscilla’s attention did not.
Ten thousand. She had ten thousand – a huge sum to one who had believed her dowry only a fifth of that.
What had Miss Ashbrooke said? “If he does not marry money soon, the Orrinshire name will be hung over a cottage, not a mansion.”
Her measly two thousand had never felt important. How could she, with two thousand, make any sort of difference to the Orrinshire accounts with such a sum?
But ten thousand – ten thousand pounds. That was a serious sum. Only half what Miss Lloyd could offer, to be sure, but it was something.
Priscilla swallowed. But Charles did not need ten thousand pounds. He needed twenty thousand pounds, perhaps more than that.
He needed Miss Lloyd, and if he had been so foolish as to break off his engagement, or Miss Lloyd had done so, then something had to be done. She would not allow the Orrinshire family to fall into ruin.
“Now, when you are finished with the newspaper, just leave
