Tom: To Secure His Legacy (Other Pens, Mansfield Park Book 4)

  Tom: To Secure His Legacy

  Mansfield Park Continuation, Episode 4

  Leenie Brown

  Leenie B Books

  Halifax

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, without written permission from its publisher and author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, events, and places are a product of this author’s imagination. If any name, event and/or place did exist, it is purely by coincidence that it appears in this book.

  Cover design by Leenie B Books. Images sourced from Deposit Photos and Period Images.

  Tom: To Secure His Legacy © 2019 Leenie Brown. All Rights Reserved, except where otherwise noted.

  ISBN (print) 978-1-989410-09-7; (ebook) 978-1-989410-08-0

  Contents

  Dear Reader,

  An End and a Beginning

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Before You Go

  Addie: To Wager on Her Future Excerpt

  Acknowledgements

  Other Leenie B Books

  About the Author

  Connect with Leenie

  Dear Reader,

  At the end of Mansfield Park, Jane Austen wrote:

  Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery. I quit such odious subjects as soon as I can, impatient to restore everybody not greatly in fault themselves to tolerable comfort and to have done with all the rest.

  It is my goal in writing the books found in the Other Pens, Mansfield Park Series to take up my pen and dwell, in part, on those Austen characters who were at fault in some way in Mansfield Park.

  These stories do not comprise a retelling or even a variation of Miss Austen’s work. They begin after the close of Manfield Park with Henry Crawford deciding to prove himself worthy of a good woman. From there, the ripples of change spread out to influence the lives of others in his circle of family and friends, encompassing a wide cast of original characters, as well as some from Mansfield Park.

  While each episode contains a complete happily ever after for its hero and heroine, it is assumed that the reader knows about the events in the preceding books. Therefore, while reading in any order may be done, for maximum enjoyment, reading all of the books in order is recommended.

  An End and a Beginning

  There was comfort also in Tom, who gradually regained his health, without regaining the thoughtlessness and selfishness of his previous habits. He was the better for ever for his illness. He had suffered, and he had learned to think: two advantages that he had never known before; and the self-reproach arising from the deplorable event in Wimpole Street, to which he felt himself accessory by all the dangerous intimacy of his unjustifiable theatre, made an impression on his mind which, at the age of six-and-twenty, with no want of sense or good companions, was durable in its happy effects. He became what he ought to be: useful to his father, steady and quiet, and not living merely for himself.

  Austen, Jane. Mansfield Park

  This is where Miss Austen left Tom and where our story begins — as he is attempting to become “what he ought to be.”

  Chapter 1

  Morning crept its way across the room, first spilling over the windowsill and then creeping across the floor before slipping through the gap in the bed curtains.

  Tom Bertram tossed an arm across his eyes to block its advance. He did not wish to wake just yet. There was a beautiful angel singing to him as she blotted his face with a cool cloth, and if he waited just a moment longer, he might be able to open his eyes in his dream and finally see her face.

  He groaned. It was no use.

  His angel had flown away once again, and he was left with only a memory of her voice.

  He stretched and slowly rose to a sitting position. He needed to get dressed and start his day. He knew he needed to, but he had little desire to do so. Being responsible was far less enjoyable than being reckless.

  He groaned again as he straightened his leg. Being reckless did come with its own set of complaints. His leg hurt less than it used to, but it was still a trial. Thankfully, according to the physician, the break had knit together as it should. However, the leg was still not as strong as Tom would like it to be, and it did ache rather a lot in the mornings after being motionless for so long as he slept.

  He pushed his way out of his covers and, taking up the cane that stood next to his bed, he rose. Within half an hour’s time, he would be able to rise without the use of the blasted thing, but first thing in the morning, he could not. It was as if his muscles protested rising more than his brain did.

  After pulling the bell for his man, Tom began what he could of his ablutions while waiting.

  “Your paper is waiting for you below,” his valet said as he entered the room.

  Reading the paper first thing in the morning, just like rising while it was still morning, was new for Tom. Being a respectable and responsible gentleman seemed to have many unsavoury costs. However, if he wished to recover even part of what he had lost of his and his brother’s inheritance in his dissolute days, he must learn the part of a duty-bound gentleman. It was not his natural bent. It should be, but it was not.

  He lifted his chin so that his man could complete his shaving.

  It would likely be easier to face both the morning and his future prospects with greater equanimity if he had gone to bed at an earlier hour.

  He chuckled to himself. Was that not what his father always scolded? Tom, a baronet does not while away his hours in pleasure to the harm of his estate. That was a lesson hard learned.

  Tom dried his face and began the work of making himself presentably attired.

  Before he began any study of his new gambling haunts today, he had a friend upon whom to call – a friend who was both fortunate to have survived the night and the reason for Tom’s lack of rest.

  It had been a late night, waiting to see if Gabe had recovered his boat. And then, there had been the time at Gabe’s house while Tom had waited to hear the surgeon’s evaluation of his friend’s injuries.

  Today promised to be one of great interest, for Gabe had promised to share the harrowing tale of his ordeal, and then…

  Tom chuckled to himself as his man tied his cravat.

  “Mr. Durward is planning to give up his bachelor state,” Tom said to his man.

  “My congratulations,” his man replied.

  “He is hoping to tie himself to Miss Crawford.”

  “Miss Crawford?” The man before him blinked. “The lady that was at Mansfield?”

  Tom nodded. “The very one. Will not Edmund be shocked when I invite Mr. and Mrs. Durward for a visit someday?”

  “Indeed!”

  “She has changed,” Tom added. “Fanny will be pleased to see the transformation. I am not certain how my brother will receive it. He is more reticent in things than his wife.”

  He gave himself a looking over in the mirror. He did cut a dashing figure even when he was being respectable.

  “Have there been any letters from Mansfield?”

  “No, sir, none yesterday and so far, none today. There were some invitations, which have been placed in your study.”

  Tom’s least fa
vourite room in his entire life had been the study. He still had to remind himself not to shudder at the word.

  The study here in town was his, and his alone. His father had given him sole control of this town house after Tom had recovered from his illness ready to take on a new life – one that was not given over to pleasure. Therefore, this study, since it was his and his alone, did not have to be one of criticism and scolding. This study could be an agreeable and even friendly place.

  He loved his father, but theirs was not a close relationship. He would not be as his father was. He would attempt to encourage his children to do well, of course, but not in the same way his father had. He would smile and praise his children from the beginning rather than waiting until one of them had been lost to her willful ways and another had nearly killed himself trying to be as unlike his father as was humanly possible.

  “Would you see that some breakfast is sent to me in my study?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “And the paper,” he called after his man.

  He blew out a breath. It was time to begin in earnest his work of recouping his losses, although he had to admit that he was not entirely certain he understood all the workings of investing. Gabe would likely be able to help him find places to put his money that would earn him a healthy – but secure – return.

  Gambling was not new to Tom. He had lost plenty of money at card tables, races, and the like. However, speculating on shares and such was different. There was still the possibility of gain or loss, but the money he was using seemed to be somehow more valuable.

  It was not, of course.

  The money had not changed one wit. It was Tom who had changed. He saw things in such a different way now since his angel had saved his life those many long months ago. Perhaps if he were very fortunate, one day, he would get to see her face and thank her for her service. But for now, he would have to satisfy himself with his memories of her care and her songs.

  ~*~*~

  After a thorough reading of the paper with a particularly close review of the financial numbers listed in it while eating his breakfast, Tom got his hat and coat and made his way from his house to Gabe’s.

  “Mr. Bertram,” Mrs. Durward greeted him with a smile. “You must sit here.” She led him to a settee near the window. She leaned toward him when he had taken his seat. “There is a footstool just to the right if your leg should need it.”

  He thanked her.

  “You are not too cold here, are you?”

  “No, no. I am perfectly comfortable.”

  “I have a blanket.”

  “If I become chilled, I will tell you.”

  She smiled at him and patted his knee just as she seemed to like to do to Gabe. It was as if, after having only met Tom a few days ago, she had laid claim to him as a second son.

  He had to chuckle when Mr. Benjamin Waller was given nearly the same treatment. However, Mr. Waller was not offered a footstool, but brandy was available if any of his bruises were to give him too much pain.

  Mr. Waller leaned toward Tom when Mrs. Durward had turned her attention to her son who was being helped into the room by a footman.

  “Do not tell her about my stitches,” he whispered, gingerly patting his side.

  Tom’s eyes grew wide.

  “It was a small cut, and the surgeon thought it would heal better if sewn together. It is nothing compared to Durward’s injuries.” He sighed. “I did not think he would make it from the ship to the shore. He is a fortunate fellow.”

  Tom nodded and muttered something about Gabe’s tenacity while watching that friend allow his mother, a slight woman, who could not be a hair taller than five feet, to tell him how to sit and what he needed to be well. He could see on Gabe’s face that it was a trial to accept the coddling, but Gabe was not the sort to injure anyone who did not deserve injury.

  “Radcliff is dead?” Tom asked Waller quietly.

  Last night, Gabe had thought the man who had stolen his boat had died but was not entirely certain he remembered correctly.

  Waller nodded. “One shot to his heart. It was impressive to see Mr. Durward lift that gun while he lay on the deck with Miss Crawford draped across his chest. His hand was so steady. His face…” Waller shook his head. “Anyone who saw it would think twice about ever endangering someone for whom Durward cared. There was death in his eyes. I have seen that look a few times when engaged in a battle over a ship. He was protecting her,” he nodded to Miss Crawford, who had just arrived with her sister, Margaret, and her brother, Henry, “and would die doing so.”

  The right corner of Tom’s mouth tipped up. That sounded just like Gabriel Durward. The man was fiercely loyal and just as passionate about seeing things done justly. Tom thanked providence for smiling down on him and allowing him to meet Gabe.

  “I am well,” Tom said in answer to Margaret Grant’s inquiry before continuing his conversation with Waller.

  “What of the other men?” Tom asked while continuing to watch the proceedings in the room.

  Miss Crawford was being made to sit next to Gabe but nearer the fire. Apparently, Mrs. Durward thought that any lady would find it exceptionally cold today. He chuckled.

  “She is very mothering.” Waller nodded to Mrs. Durward.

  “That she is,” Tom agreed.

  “The others are being held for trial,” Waller said, returning to Tom’s question. “All, but one, will likely see the gallows.”

  “All, but one?”

  Waller nodded. “Miss Crawford spoke on behalf of one of the men. He helped her and her sister escape the room where they were being held, and so I suspect he will live – not in England – but his assistance will likely save his neck.”

  “Miss Crawford spoke for him?” She continued to surprise him with how much she seemed to have changed since her time at Mansfield.

  “She was on her way down the ladder to the rowboat but then popped her head back up over the rail and told me about his assistance. She is a strong lady to have held up to her ordeal as well as she appears to have. Durward is fortunate to have found a lady of such good character.”

  Tom chuckled. A lady of good character was not how anyone at Mansfield would describe Miss Crawford. “She has not always been such a lady. I think it is Durward’s influence, actually.”

  “Indeed?” Waller said in surprise.

  Tom shrugged. “She needed to find herself. I would not wish to besmirch the lady, but her previous friends did nothing to encourage a noble character.” He could not fault her for that. Had he not also been attempting to find himself in frivolous and reckless behavior?

  He took his eyes off how Miss Crawford was ducking her head at something Gabe had said. She really was so different from who she had been at Mansfield. Even Edmund would have to be pleased to see it.

  “I assume you read the report in the paper about Lady St. James’s brooch?”

  Waller nodded.

  “It was placed in Gabe’s possession by a lady who once was a friend of both Lady St. James and Miss Crawford.”

  “No!”

  “I assure you it is true. Lady St. James is not pleased to lose her influence over Miss Crawford to the likes of Gabe.” Tom leaned toward Waller. “He’s in trade you know.”

  “I did know that.” Waller chuckled. “Lady St. James, you say?”

  Tom nodded just as Gabe began to tell his tale of narrowly escaping death at the hands of a Frenchman from whom he had taken a ship three years ago while under a letter of marque — a ship that he had then purchased from the prize court. Gabriel Durward knew risk and reward as well as he knew risk and loss. However, unlike Tom, who had never learned from his losses, Gabe had. He was as shrewd as he was daring. If anyone could help Tom become a financial success and rid himself of the debt he had created for Mansfield, it would be an industrious fellow like Gabe.

  Be that as it may, there was something Tom must do first. He must assist Gabe as he had promised.

  “I would not disagree
with such a claim,” Waller was saying in response to Gabe’s comment about how Radcliff had been killed.

  Tom stood. It was time to do his part in allowing his friend to find his happiness.

  “I should likely contrive some reason to persuade you all to leave the room and allow Gabe and Miss Crawford some privacy, but I have not been able to come up with one. Therefore, I suggest we all take our leave and perhaps enjoy another cup of tea in the morning room.”

  With any luck, Tom thought as he closed the door to the sitting room after everyone had exited, he would one day find himself as besotted as his friend.

  Chapter 2

  “I do not know why you do not just spend your days in a tea room,” Robert Eldridge said as he climbed into the hired hack after his sister, Faith — not that the person entering the carriage looked like a sister.

  “And in gentleman’s clothes?” He shook his head. “I am likely the daftest brother ever to allow you to do this.”

  “If it were not for your inability to keep money in its proper place rather than in the hands of your friends and any barmaid who will have you, I could spend my days in tea rooms, wearing a proper day dress.” Faith crossed her arms and glared at him. “You know as well as I do that, as a lady, to be seen in a coffeehouse conducting business on the behalf of my family would not be spoken of in a favourable fashion. Therefore, I must disguise myself.”

  “You have twenty thousand pounds, someone would marry you.”

  Robert was perhaps the daftest brother in all of England. He struggled to understand both numbers and her. She did not just want to marry someone whose coffers needed propping up. She wanted a gentleman who knew how to keep both his money and his wife safe and happy.

  Her father had been able to almost accomplish such a thing. He had done well in managing his accounts. She knew. She had seen them. And as far as she could tell, her mother had been happy.