A Marriage Most Inconvenient (Inconvenient Matches Book #1)

Chapter 6: Vera

Vera sat behind the great mahogany desk in what used to be her stepfather's study in Hartley Manor, the morning sun illuminating her sanctuary with a lovely golden glow. A fire crackled invitingly in the hearth, tempting her to leave the estate ledgers and come sit by it. She cast a forlorn look at the warmth and turned her head back to the ledger on her desk. Numbers had never been her strongest subject, she had always been more interested in reading about great heroes of Greek myths and the great romance of Byron and Shakespeare, but she found herself thanking her Papa for forcing her to learn how to keep books. She would have her steward compile a report for Benedict, as she did every quarter, though she very much doubted he bothered to read them. It was likely his once-every-three-month reminder that she existed, not entirely conducive to his strategy of pretending he did not have a wife while he sowed his wild oats in London.

A knock sounded on the door and once she had given her permission to enter, Astley strode in through the doors.

'Good Morning, Your Grace.'

'Good Morning, Astley.' She offered him a smile.

'Shall I have breakfast sent here in a tray?'

'Just tea, thank you. I will have breakfast in the dining room, in an hour. Have a carriage prepared, I will go see the tenants and then I will go to the village.'

'Very good, Your Grace. Shall I have Cook pack some cakes and sweetmeats for the children on the farms?'

'I think that's a splendid idea, Astley.'

The butler nodded, then presented a pristine envelope bound with some twine. Minerva's heart leapt with excitement. She already knew who it was from before Astley continued. 'A letter from Boston.'

Her ledger lay forgotten on her desk as she unraveled the twine on the letter as though it was a present, a giddy smile playing on her lips. It was as if God had known exactly what she needed at the time – though that was rather the point of omnipotence- and had sent her word from her dearest friend in the whole world, the very woman who had saved her life and had kept her safe in the dark days before her mother had met Papa.

Dearest Vera,

I had to bribe my youngest grandnephew to write this letter for you with those lemon sweets you loved so much as a child. You would think that these brats would have some mercy on an aging crone, but alas, no such luck. I am unable to work with the church regularly, my arthritis makes me more of a nuisance to the younger Sisters than a help, but they are kind enough to humor me. My brother has taken it upon himself to care for me and he is an absolute fusspot. It is quite endearing, if I am honest.

It was hard for Vera to imagine that the unstoppable woman she had known was now a lady well into her dotage. Her eyes wrinkled and her back bent. It had seemed impossible that Sister Agatha was quite as mortal as all that.

I saw the architect's sketch you included in your last correspondence and I am awed by how lovely it was. I am sure the little children will be beyond happy to have such lovely living quarters. I hope young Nicholas's health is well and that he is still engaged with his paints. I imagine that boy will become quite the artist once he is grown. He will be the toast of Paris in ten years.

Nicky had actually quite the talent for arts and Vera had already begun to set aside a small fund for him if he wished to go to France to further hone his craft.

I imagine Robert is old enough to start looking for work, and that Michael and Timothy are still up to their mischiefs. I hope Prudence and Elizabeth are taking to the new governess well, and education is an important part of a young lady's arsenal.