Page 28 of A Holiday By Gaslight

Emily wrinkled her nose. “Dirty, smelly place. If Papa ever spends my dowry, I hope he’ll use it for something more pleasing. An orangery, or a tennis court, perhaps.”

Sophie rose, only half listening. “I’ll send Annie to help you dress,” she said as she turned to leave.

After exiting Emily’s bedroom, Sophie went to her own. She briefly considered changing into a riding habit, having her mare saddled, and setting off after Papa and Ned. But that would be overreacting, surely. Besides, Ned was more than capable of withstanding any pressure Papa put to bear. At least, Sophie hoped he was.

Sir William was a man who was fond of good horseflesh. He kept a string of hunters along with his riding horses. Big, leanly-muscled beasts with near-perfect conformation. The one he’d assigned to Ned was a well-built gray with a great deal of spirit. Ned supposed it was a challenge of sorts. A test to see whether or not he could control a mount that wasn’t lame in all four legs.

As a humbly born Londoner, he hadn’t been much of an equestrian in his youth. Riding horses were a luxury in the city, expensive to buy and to maintain. It wasn’t until he was an adult that he’d learned to ride properly.

He didn’t enjoy it overmuch. Not as much as Sir William, certainly. But he was more than equipped to handle the mood swings of the handsome gray, even when the bad-tempered blackguard set his teeth on the bit and refused to let it go.

“Progress,” Sir William said proudly as they rode away from Appersett House’s private gas works. The ground was white with fresh-fallen snow. “That’s what that is, Sharpe. A modern marvel of engineering.”

“It’s none too healthy for the workers.”

“Nonsense! I’ll have you know that my gas works is cleaner and better run than the gas works in the city. The men can breathe without inhaling poison.”

Ned wasn’t so sure. During his brief tour, he’d inhaled enough noxious fumes to bring on a headache.

Not that he was unappreciative of the innovation. A country house gas works was a rarity. Rarer still, the elegance and efficiency of the one he’d just encountered. It was made of stone, with bricked archways and chimneys. A skeleton crew of soot-covered workmen were employed within to shovel coal into sealed retorts, which were heated by a large furnace. The crude gas produced was then condensed and purified before being pumped to the main house via a series of underground pipes.

The process was time-consuming and the smell particularly foul. But it was an impressive business for all that. Truly a product of the modern age.

Ned brought his horse up alongside his host. Softly falling snowflakes gathered on the brim of his hat and melted into his horse’s mane. It was getting colder by the minute. “It must have been quite an expense.” Upwards of five thousand pounds, unless he was mistaken. A hefty sum, even for a gentleman who was well-to-do.

He wondered how much of that amount had been Sophie’s dowry.

“I won’t be so vulgar as to discuss the cost,” Sir William said. “Except to say that it was worth every penny.”

“You haven’t any regrets?”

“Bah! What is there to regret? Appersett House has a reputation to uphold. My lady wife would’ve rather had the drawing room repapered or the carpets replaced. What’s unique in that, I ask you? But gaslight. Oho!” He practically crowed. “How many other estates in the country are fitted for gas, sir? Appersett House is unique among its kind. And when I’ve finished the next phase of modernizations—”

Ned looked at him sharply. “The next phase?”

“Plumbing, my good man. By this time next year, we’ll have tiled bathing rooms and water closets, shower baths and sinks with hot and cold running water. Just think of it!”

Ned thought of the expense. Was he meant to subsidize it? Or was Sir William expecting a windfall of some sort? Ned saw no reason to beat about the bush. “These are costly improvements for a man in your position.”

Sir William’s body went rigid in the saddle. “My position?” His horse commenced an agitated dance. “And just what is my position, sir?”

“You mentioned having lost your daughter’s dowry on speculation.”

“Eh?” Sir William attempted to calm his mount. “Ah, yes. Speculation. Quite right. I don’t advise it, Sharpe. One shouldn’t gamble.”

“I never do, sir,” Ned said gravely. “I’m exceedingly careful with my money.”

“A common philosophy among men of your class. Counting every shilling. But you’re not a poor man now. If you were, I’d never permit you within a mile of my daughter. She’s a fine young lady. Far too elegant for a tradesman, as anyone can see.”

“I won’t dispute that.”

“And whoever is fortunate enough to marry my daughters may one day have Appersett House. The jewel in the crown, some might say. A prize more valuable than a mere wife. I’ve yet to decide who I’ll leave it to.”

“It’s unentailed?” Ned couldn’t conceal his surprise. “I thought—”

“That it would go to some nephew or second cousin or other? Poppycock. Do you think I’d modernize my estate merely to hand it over to an insignificant twig on the Appersett family tree? Not on your life, sir. My father and grandfather executed a deed of disentailment decades ago. Needed to sell off some of the land, more’s the pity.”

“But if it’s unentailed, it could be sold to pay your debts. Don’t you realize the risk—”