He was going to lose Aunt Elizabeth’s house, the house that had been in Kelsey’s family for generations. Aunt Elizabeth had inherited it, being the older sister. And the creditors were threatening to take it away. In three days’ time.
And that was why Elliott was drinking himself sick, hoping to find some courage in that bottle to end his own life, because he didn’t have the courage to face what was going to happen in the next few days. It was his duty to provide for them—for his wife, anyway—and he’d failed miserably.
Of course, killing himself wasn’t an option. She’d pointed out how much worse it would be for Elizabeth if she had to face eviction and a funeral as well. For Kelsey and Jean, well, they’d already faced one eviction. Yet they’d had somewhere to go that time. This time…Kelsey simply couldn’t let it happen. Her sister was her responsibility now. It was up to her to see to it that Jean was raised properly, with a proper roof over her head. And if that meant that she had to…
She wasn’t quite sure how it had come up, the selling of her. Elliott had first mentioned that he’d already thought of marrying her to the best offer, but he’d put off broaching the subject with her for so long that now it was too late for that, and he’d explained why it was too late, the need for serious deliberation for something that important that couldn’t be done in just a few days.
Perhaps it was the drink that had loosened his tongue, but he’d gone on to relate how the same thing had happened to a friend of his many years ago, how he’d lost everything, but his daughter had saved the family by selling herself to an old reprobate who prized virginity and had been willing to pay extremely well for it.
Then, in almost the same breath, he told of approaching one gentleman he knew fairly well to find out if he’d be interested in a young wife. The reply had been, “Won’t marry the gel, but I’m in need of a new mistress. Pay you a few pounds if she’d be willing…”
Which was how the talk of mistresses in relation to wives had arisen, how some rich lords would pay very handsomely for a fresh young mistress they could show off to their friends, especially a girl who hadn’t already made the rounds of those friends, and pay even more if she happened to be an innocent in the bargain.
He’d planted the seeds well, showing her the solution without actually asking her to sacrifice herself. She’d already been shocked by the talk of mistresses and heartsick over the situation and how it would affect them all, but mostly she’d been desperately worried about Jean, and how this could ruin her chances for a decent marriage one day.
Kelsey could find a job, possibly, but hardly one that would keep them much above the level of poverty, especially if she took on the responsibility of supporting them all. She couldn’t imagine Aunt Elizabeth working, and Elliott, well, he’d already proven pathetically that he couldn’t be depended on to hold a job anymore, not for very long.
It was visions of her young sister resorting to begging on the streets to help out that had prompted Kelsey to ask, albeit in a mortified whisper, “Do you know of some man who would be willing to—to pay enough if I—if I agreed to become his mistress?”
Elliott had looked so hopeful, and so damn relieved, even as he’d replied, “No, I don’t know a single one. But I know of a place in London that the rich lords frequent, a place where you can be presented to receive an excellent offer.”
She’d stood there, silent for a long while, still so hesitant about such a monumental decision and so sick to her stomach that this did, in fact, seem to be their only option. Elliott actually broke out in a sweat before she finally nodded her consent.
And then he’d tried to console her, as if anything could just then. “It won’t be so bad, Kelsey, really it won’t. A woman can make a great deal of money for herself this way if she’s smart, enough to become independent—even marry later, if she chooses.”
That wasn’t a bit true, and they both knew it. Her own chances for a good marriage would be gone forever. The stigma that would be hers when she went through with this would follow her for the rest of her days. She’d never be welcomed in polite society again. But that was her cross to bear. At least her sister would still have the future she deserved.
Still in a state of shock over what she’d agreed to, she’d suggested, “I will leave it to you to tell Aunt Elizabeth of this.”
“No! No, she mustn’t know. She’d never permit it. But I’m sure you will think of something reasonable to tell her to excuse your absence.”