PP AU NON-CANON GENERAL REGENCY
An Unexpected Win
Previously:
James stood up and walked over to Thomas. "Unless there is something more you need to discuss, I think it is best I go rejoin Kitty and my son."
"Yes, yes, of course." Thomas gave an understanding smile. "I do thank you, James. I really did need to talk."
"Anytime."
Kingsleys
Ch. 3
Rolling hills, a windy river, and a soft-but-chilly breeze blew over Sand Hollow Point. Trees were waving their bare branches and limbs, as it was not a heavily populated forest area. No sound of cattle or sheep could be heard, for any of those creatures had already been moved to a different pasture. So, there was no real sound to be heard if one was traveling through the area.
Listening out for any sounds of people passing by was not on Mrs. Jennifer Ingalls' mind as she had already wrapped her long, dark hair up in a piece of white, wool, cloth. Kneeling on the tile floor, her hands meticulously scrubbed the floor. No speck of dust stood a chance of escaping her wet rag.
Paul stood on the upper floor, looking down over the elegantly designed railing at his sister as she continued to clean below. The balcony was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, with detailed carved wooden banisters and polished mahogany railings that gleamed in the soft evening light. The floor was made of the finest marble, each tile carefully laid to create a seamless and gorgeous surface. From his vantage point, Paul could see the entirety of the grand hall below, a space that conveyed a gentleman of great wealth resided in this home.
The hall was spacious, with high ceilings adorned with chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow across the room. Windows went from floor to ceiling, allowing natural light to flood the space without hindrance. They offered breathtaking views of the rolling hills and a windy river off in the distance.
The floor below was covered in pristine white tiles that Jennifer meticulously scrubbed, ensuring that no speck of dust escaped her diligent efforts. The tiles were arranged in an intricate mosaic pattern, adding a touch of artistry to the already magnificent room. The furniture in the hall was equally impressive, with plush sofas and armchairs upholstered in luxurious fabrics, and polished wooden tables that held vases of fresh flowers, their vibrant colors adding a touch of life to the room.
Jennifer moved gracefully as she cleaned. Her hands worked methodically, scrubbing each tile with care and precision. The open space of the hall allowed her movements to flow seamlessly, her presence a quiet but determined force of order and cleanliness. Paul marveled at the heavy velvet drapes in rich shades of burgundy and gold, which framed the windows. They had been so thoroughly cleaned in the fall that they still looked pristine.
He hated the fact she would not take a single penny if it was free. No, Jennifer's brother sighed, that was not true. It was not that which bothered him. Yes, the staff loved her; that had solved one issue, but there were still plenty of people who criticized him for allowing Mrs. Ingalls to work.
Paul's thoughts wandered as he watched his sister work. The words of a lady who had once criticized him for allowing Jennifer to do maid's work echoed in his mind. "You are a man of wealth," she had said. "Put your foot down; your sister should not be doing maid's work." He sighed, knowing that Jennifer's refusal to take charity and her insistence on working for room and board created a dynamic in their household many did not have. While the staff adored her, and she had solved many issues with her presence, there were still plenty of their neighbors who criticized Paul for allowing her to work.
It was not just the neighbors who had complained; their own sister had too.
"It is embarrassing to have our sister working for you." his sister loudly complained before leaving for Spain. "Make her stop."
"No one in the family makes Jennifer do what she does not desire," Paul hissed. "You of all our family hold that knowledge."
"Then she needs to marry. Even she will listen to a husband."
Paul had ordered his older sister out of his house and was thrilled when the lady had not come back. However, their talk had done one thing for him. It had caused him to put his foot down enough to have her do the cleaning, or cooking, when no company was around. Despite the internal conflict, he respected Jennifer's independence. It had brought another conversation about; one that jumped to the front of his mind.
"This is simply absurd, Paul, it has never bothered you before. Why let Andrea's opinion bother you? She and her husband have made it clear they are not even returning to England."
"Your actions will reflect on this family and your sons. And what will my own children think if they ever down from Northern England?"
"My sons are on their own and in the military, as was their father. And, with all due respect, your own children were too influenced by that wife of yours."
"You children are young, they will come home for visits."
"My youngest will no more come home than his father did. Though, to that son's credit, he does write home far more often than their father's own sire would like -if he were still alive." Jennifer's eyes might as well have turned to flames. "He no more wished to be married to me than I to him. His officer father might as well have issued him as a wife for the kind of marriage we had, and you know it. As to my oldest, while he writes frequently- and would love to come home for a visit- it simply not practical, at least not lately."
Paul left off watching Jennifer, or the fact she had spoken the truth about children who were not on speaking terms with their father, and walked down a barren hall with pale white walls. Opening a door, the gentleman walked into an almost just as barren room. It held a crackling fire in the hearth, a heavy desk with an antique chair he was sure around since the middle ages, built-in bookshelves that only went halfway up the wall. Large windows had been placed above the shelves and -though the sun was beginning to go down- allowed one to see open, rich green lawns, with tall trees standing as faithful friends guarding the Kingsley home.
Paul sat down on the edge of his bed and took a deep breath before letting it out. He had not received any reply yet back from Thomas. There were things he had not allowed himself to think about while watching Jennifer, concerning his own life past or present, and he could only hope what he had planned would work out. Mr. Kingsley could honestly say he had no regrets in sending his letter to Mr. Bennet; though he probably should feel guilty over the one he had sent to Mr. Collins.
Mr. Collins' own letter had left out certain facts. Nonetheless, considering what Williams had pulled on the Kingsley family a couple years ago, well, if the man refused to pay his debts honestly, he could pay the piper via another route. A knock came on Paul's door; it was his butler.
"I am sorry, Sir. I know you have taken to the habit of having time to yourself, but a package just came for you and the deliverer asked me to give it to you directly."
"Thank-you. Put it on the small table by the door. I will look at in a few minutes."
It was not long before he was sitting at his desk holding a piece of paper in one hand and looking the name of Harold J. Tuttle written on the top, and holding a dark green emerald in the other. The paper, and what he had read, did not surprise him; the Cornish serpentine shocked him.
'I hope Thomas Bennet accepts my invitation. I need him to come, now more than ever.'