“Oh!” his mother gasped. “I am mortified. Discussing finances is terribly vulgar. Come in, child. Enter.” She turned her head toward the kitchen. “Scroggs! We have guests!” She turned back to Anthony with hopeful eyes. “That maid has been dreadfully overworked. Might we employ a butler?”
Embarrassed, he pulled Charlotte and their traveling trunks into the townhouse and shut the door firmly behind them. “Charlotte, this is my mother, Mrs. Margaret Fairfax. Mother, I’d like you to meet my wife, Mrs. Charlotte Fairfax.”
“Your what?” his mother screeched. “Anthony, how could you? You know how much I love a wedding. Your sister was such a disappointment in that regard, what with having a private ceremony in the Duke of Ravenwood’s London estate and not even inviting us—I shall never forgive her—and you’ve gone and done the same. Can’t you try to be thoughtful?”
“See?” he asked Charlotte with a straight face. “To my mother, a private wedding being held at a ducal estate is far more scandalous than the reason for the secrecy. My sister was eight months pregnant.”
“Closer to nine, I should think,” his mother mused as she led them toward the sitting room. “The twins came right after.” She sent a horrified glance toward Charlotte’s midsection. “She’s not—You didn’t—”
“No, no,” he assured her. His sins were many, but they were always crimes against himself. His mother need not have worried. “Any grandchildren will arrive after the nine-month mark. Where’s Father? I would like to present Charlotte to him, too.”
“At his club, I’m afraid.” His mother gave a long-suffering sigh. “I wish he wouldn’t drink so. Anthony, if you could dash over tomorrow perhaps, and settle your father’s account at White’s, he would be ever so grateful.”
“Mother…” He eased onto the sofa and pulled Charlotte down beside him. “Listen to me. I’m afraid I’m well into dun territory and have little coin to spare.”
His mother perched on the edge of a wingback chair opposite them and waved his words away. “Who isn’t stretched thin these days? You should see the lengthy accounts just for keeping properly attired for the Season. To order new gowns, I had to switch modistes just so I could start a new account! You cannot imagine the humiliation.”
Guilt squeezed Anthony’s chest. He leaned forward, his voice urgent. He had to make her understand. “Mother, please hear me. I’m all to pieces. Up the River Tick. Knocked into horse-nails. I haven’t got a spare ha’penny. If I don’t pay my creditors within a week, I’ll spend the rest of my life in Marshalsea. Do you understand me?”
She blinked, cast a sidelong glance at Charlotte, then fixed him with a wounded look. “If that excuse were remotely true, mightn’t you think it an inopportune moment to take on the responsibility of a bride? If you don’t wish to help your parents, just say so. When the lease runs up, we’ll go back to the country and…and manage. We always do.”
Anthony’s stomach clenched. How he wished her suspicions were true. He had never been able to turn them down when they needed a bit of blunt. But this time, he would have to.
“Charlotte and I had a somewhat unplanned elopement,” he said carefully. “I found out how dire my situation was the following morning. You are right. It was the most inopportune of moments. But right now, every penny I can find must go toward keeping me out of prison. Or at least reducing the length of my stay.”
“It’s true?” His mother’s wide eyes focused not on him, but on Charlotte. “They can take Anthony away?”
“They will take him away,” Charlotte corrected grimly as she slid her hand into his. “Unless we can raise enough money to stop it.”
“I got myself into this scrape,” he started to remind her.
Charlotte held up her other palm. “I’m your wife. Now it’s our debt.”
He winced. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. He was the man. The provider. The law bestowed ownership of all property on the husband because the husband was meant to use his resources to protect his wife. Not leave her abandoned and penniless.
How on earth would he be able to take care of his family from prison? The reason his parents loved him so much was because he indulged them at every opportunity. Once he was gone, they would lose their home. They might even end up in debtors’ prison alongside him.
“We can’t let that happen.” His mother wrung her thin hands, eyes wide with desperation. “We sold everything of value last year, when we were evicted from the old townhouse. Your father hasn’t got a single book left in his library. The most expensive thing in this house is the one gown I intend to wear all Season. I commissioned a host of interchangeable trims and lace so that no one will realize I’m always wearing the same dress.”
Anthony blinked. He hadn’t realized his mother had ever taken any cost-saving measures, much less that she actively thought ahead to try and minimize debt. Her complaints about his father’s visits to the club were now colored in a different light. Perhaps it was not the drinking she objected to after all, but rather the associated account they could never manage to settle. And the extra burden on her son.
“I shall have to sack Scroggs.” She took a shaky breath. “The poor girl. And your father will simply have to do without the club. He cannot argue. ’Twas past time. How we shall entertain ourselves in an empty house with nary a book to read, I have no idea. I suppose I shall be too busy scrubbing pots to have time for frivolity anyway. The silver!” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “What if we sell the silver? And your grandmother’s porcelain dining ware? How much do you owe the creditors?”
Her questions robbed Anthony of the ability to speak. All the porcelain in Mayfair wouldn’t repay his debt, but the important thing, the inconceivable thing, was that his mother would sacrifice it. His heart wrenched. That dining ware was by far her most valued possession. Something she protected so fiercely, no maid in London was allowed to touch it. She treated each piece like riches on display at a palace.
And she would sell it all without hesitation.
For Anthony.
“I have family jewelry of my own,” Charlotte said. “Perhaps you’d care to accompany me on a visit to a pawnbroker? I cannot think of a worthier cause.”
“We’ll all go,” his mother said with determination. “His father might still have something valuable we could sell. I cannot think of a bigger emergency than this.” She patted Anthony’s arm despite the panic shimmering in her eyes. “Don’t worry, son. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Anthony swallowed the truth. Even if he couldn’t save himself, he could not allow the same fate to destroy his parents.
Charlotte squeezed his hand, her blue gaze intense. “I can tell by your face that you think our efforts will not be enough. Even if you’re right, even if we sell the clothes off our backs and they still take you away, I will get you out.”
Anthony’s heart flipped. She was more treasure than he deserved. He pulled her close. She clutched him as if she would never let him go. His throat stung. Although they hadn’t exchanged traditional vows, she was on his side, for richer or for poorer. He glanced over at his mother. His parents were, too.
This was what having family truly meant.
Chapter 18
When morning came, Charlotte awoke to find Anthony kneeling before his open trunk in search of some item within.
They hadn’t unpacked their traveling bags the night before, in part because they had been too exhausted to do so…but primarily because the only furniture in the bedchamber was the bed.
At some point when times had been tough, Anthony’s parents had apparently sold the wardrobe, the vanity, even the shaving mirror. Charlotte pushed herself up on her elbows and gazed about the empty chamber in disbelief. A small pitcher of water was the sole nod to luxury.