The evening Wade Lambert returned to Idleworth Manor from his trip to London turned out to entail everything he had avoided for the last seven months of his eight and twenty years. Amidst the blinding cutlery and flickering candles at dinner, his mother, her glossy black tresses done in the popular French fashion and a hint of lavender trailing her, said little. However, there was a look (and there is something in a mother's eyes!) as her gaze often shifted across the table at his father. Mr. Lambert, seated at the head, wore an all too familiar expression, indicating there would be a talk later (the twitching of his moustache being evidence enough). He had tried to get away once they were through but was summoned straight after to his father's lavishly furnished wood-panelled study with its high ceilings, impressive book collection, and heavily polished walnut chairs.

"Come now, my boy," Mr. Lambert was saying nearly thirty minutes into their meeting. Like many fathers, he had learned the hard way that being agreeable was the best approach in navigating his unpredictable son.

"I promised your mother you'd reach a decision before we step out that door," he pointed to the heavily carved woodwork, which proved more an accessory than its assumed purpose. He failed to explain that he and Mrs. Lambert had discussed everything weeks ago, (nor did he mention she waited just outside the door for the end results). It was only today she cornered him, demanding he speak to Wade and officially settle the terms.

The young man sighed from his languid position on the sofa, his wavy locks curtaining a pair of soulful peepers. "Why dost thou trouble thy worthless son, Mr. Lambert?" He yawned, then waved a well-kept hand. "Let Mother decide, since she's so bent on it." And crossing his long legs, added in an indifferent tone: "I have no interest in it."

Mr. Lambert crossed the room in two strides and positioned himself before the young man. "Your mother has had her say. Why on earth do you think we're having this conversation?" he said, throwing up his hands. "Now you will choose one of the three she's chosen for you—"

"Three?" Wade suddenly chuckled. "That couldn't have been difficult considering every bachelorette within a mile's radius would have offered to be your daughter-in-law. Anne would've been an interesting option, wouldn't you agree?"

"Your mother is very particular," Mr. Lambert said in a no-nonsense tone. "And the fewer choices, the better. They're healthy, sensible girls, and any of them will make you a decent wife."

"Well, if that's so, then you may choose one," his son replied, sounding as though he were about to doze off, but Mr. Lambert knew very well he wouldn't (yes, that's how many times they've done this).

Mr. Lambert turned away, looking defeated, but he was actually deep in thought. He twisted his wedding band several turns, his bushy brows working tremendously. At last, he blew out an impatient breath, disturbing his well-brushed pepper-and-salt moustache.

"Don't recall my father having this much trouble with me when I was his age."

It was true because the situation could not be more dissimilar. Raymond Lambert had been bent on marrying Miss Florence DeDillia while his father, opposed to the idea, tried convincing him against the arrangement; he'd even sought his wife's assistance. However, she ultimately sided with her son, reinforcing his desire to marry Miss Florence after she heard the girl in question would inherit an unspotted box of jewels once married, not to mention the handsome sum she would receive when she earned her married status.

Wade rose from his seat at last (undoubtedly bored with staying in the same place for so long) and, taking up his coat, said in his uninterested way,

"If it pleases you, sir, you may tell Mother I've no interest in the affair she's put together solely for her own amusement and that she may do as she wishes."

Mr. Lambert spun on his heels. "Tell you what, my boy, if you make the effort to please your mother, which would please me as well," (the woman had been cross with him the entire week), "then, and only then will I let you have twenty-four percent of my shares at Veripol Wineries in Bristol."

The young man's hand stopped as he reached for the door. Almost instantly, the eyebrows, not being half as bushy as those of his father, began working in a similar fashion. This was serious business, indeed. Wade Lambert did his calculations, and the thought of possessing shares in Veripol Wines was an interesting one—why, he'd be tied with Fred Burkes, his rival in matters concerning money, who'd been bragging about his recent returns on his investment in Warrington Bank in Curds.

He turned to face his father. "So if I choose a wife—"

"One of the three Mrs. Lambert has chosen, yes," Mr. Lambert put in quickly (Wade often found loopholes in things he wasn't wholly interested in, marriage being one of them).

"Then you'll give me twenty-four percent of your shares?"

His father nodded. "Absolutely."

Wade thought about it (the brows working some more). He wandered towards the Chinese cabinet his mother adored and studied the delicate china elephants displayed inside.

"To sacrifice my freedom for a share of twenty-four percent..." he tapped the cabinet thoughtfully. "Make it fifty."

"Fifty!?"

"I think that's a reasonable bargain."

Mr. Lambert paced the room for a minute, doing calculations of his own. "I cannot hand you fifty percent of Veripol shares. You may have twenty-four percent of Ecson Canning Factory along with the twenty-four for Veripol— "

"We both know Ecson is practically a bust, Father," Wade said with a frown on his handsome features. "I'll take Richmond Mines if you please."

"Twenty-five percent of Richmond and no more!"

"Very well. Then match it with Veripol."

Mr. Lambert preened his moustache. He then glanced at the door before nodding to himself. "Done. Twenty-five apiece for Richmond and Veripol."

Satisfied, Wade smiled to himself since he would be some leagues ahead of Fred Burkes. "Let us shake on it."

"As you wish. I am a man of my word."

And shake they did.

~

"Fifty percent, Florence!" said Mr. Lambert for the fifth time since they'd gone up to bed. "I hope you are well satisfied, my dear because that is the amount of shares I had to give away before Wade would agree to this little marriage business—Why, I haven't had to give out that many shares in one sitting in all my six and fifty years!"

Mrs. Lambert, dressed in an elegant satin nightgown, took down her hair.

"Consider it an investment in our future, Raymond, darling, and a healthful dose of maturity for Wade."

Her husband tutted in response.

"You planned to give it to him anyway—"

"Not a whole fifty percent at once!"

"And he's proven himself on countless occasions to be an astute young man, whether in business or finances," she finished, ignoring his retort. "You have nothing to worry about; sometimes a little compromise is necessary. Look at it this way: soon we'll have grandchildren running around Idleworth, and Lori can have someone to look after." (This being a prospect any mother with a daughter like Lori Lambert would look forward to).

Mr. Lambert sighed, then suddenly chuckled. "You always had a way of putting things into perspective."

His wife smiled at him. "Speaking of perspectives, the girls I've selected come from respectable families. I've even looked into their mothers, an important affair, I'm sure you know."

Mr. Lambert, now changed into his nightwear, smiled as he drew aside the curtains and opened the doors to the balcony. "I imagined you would, my dear."

"In fact, you might be faintly familiar with some of their relatives. I've arranged for them to spend some time here at Idleworth, where I can oversee things."

"You'll have your hands full."

"Not entirely, darling. You forget we have Foster—a more devoted butler never lived at Idleworth Manor since Mr. Crudge..."

"And let's not forget Aleksandr Garin, a good friend of Wade's. He pulled that boy out of quite a few scrapes."

"There's no need to remind me," said his wife, as though memory tasted of cinders and lemons. "Doctor Garin should not have had to follow our son about and keep him out of trouble. But you are right. We are fortunate to have him in our circle. I shall have him join us for dinner when the ladies arrive. He's highly esteemed throughout Harwickshire, and everyone appreciates a doctor around. And it so happens he shares my thoughts on marriage."

"Which thought is that?" said Mr. Lambert as he got into bed.

"That marriage of a sensible nature could do nothing but improve the foolishness of young people."

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Chapter 1, my lovelies! What do you think so far? Wade is something isn't he. Leave a comment or two to express your thoughts.💬 💭

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