Page 80 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
“Okay. Call me once you’re done talking to the others.” EJ signed off.
It didn’t take long before the others made their farewells, and Liv was able to call EJ and discuss the ins and outs of running a fundraising event. Timelines, budgets, ticketing, donations, marketing, setup … Her sister was so savvy with all of this.
“Thank you,” Liv said gratefully. “You really make it sound possible.”
“We do need to check with Liam and the committee, though.” Gran yawned and excused herself.
“Liam?” EJ asked, eyebrows raised.
Liv’s cheeks heated. “He’s the caretaker at the Hall. I think he’s related to the owner in some way.”
“And is this Liam young and handsome, and single?”
“He’s, er, not unattractive. And I don’t think he’s seeing anyone.”
“You like him.”
That was EJ. Straight to the point as always. “He’s nice enough. But I’m not one of your guinea pigs, EJ. Don’t go matchmaking with me, please.”
“You want me to matchmake him with someone else?”
“No!”
EJ laughed, and Liv realized she’d been conned. “Fine. He’s nice. But he’s had some challenges, and I’m really busy so I don’t have time to get distracted.”
“Livvy.” EJ was the only sister who called her that. “You’re volunteering your time. You can afford to take some time off for yourself. Why is saving the Hall so important to you?”
Because it was important to him. And because it made her feel like her life still mattered, and she wasn’t the nonentity people in the past thought of her. She swallowed.
“Look, it’s really late, so I gotta go,” EJ said. “Talk to the committee, let me know if there’s any interest, and I’ll see what I can do to help make this happen.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I love getting my teeth into projects like this.”
“I know. You and I are pretty similar in that way.”
EJ ended the video call, leaving Liv sitting wondering what had just happened. If people thought Liv a force to be reckoned with, then EJ was ten times more formidable. Yet her sister’s words, her challenge, continued to abrade her soul.
Was she so focused on helping the Hall from pure motives, because she simply wanted to help the village? Or was it because she wanted to prove herself, and have people value her, appreciate her, and make her feel respected and wanted again? Is that what all these ideas were about, one after the other—to impress others? Or was it more like what her mother had said, and God was stirring some of the gifts and talents He’d placed within her?
Whatever it was, she needed to commit these next few months to God, that He would have His way. With her future. With the Hall. And with Liam.
Words rolled past his ears. Responsibility. Duty. Obligation.
Liam glanced around the boardroom, at the trustees who held his future in their hands. Or seemed to think they did, anyway. Little did they know someone who had come from a lot farther away than London held his hopes in hers.
“You know your father trusted us with safeguarding the estate’s future, which was why he nominated us to be the trustees for Hartbury Hall. We have been very patient over the years, but implied in that was the fact that we would be informed about the financial arrangements. Then we learn that you have gone off on your own bat, with barely a word to us.”
Under the massive mahogany desk, Liam clenched and unclenched his fingers. The way Lord Atwood was speaking, it was as if they thought him a child of five, not a man thirty years older.
“Well? What have you got to say?”
He cleared his throat then took a sip of water. Perrier. How pretentious. “My understanding was that the trust was set up to avoid paying exorbitant amounts of inheritance tax, and that the trustees’ role was simply to offer advice. I was under the impression from my father’s will that the chief beneficiary of Hartbury Hall’s trust was me, and that once the first ten years had passed I would be given greater power to make decisions.”
Lord Atwood inhaled sharply. “You sound like you don’t wish us to give you counsel.”
If he sounded that way, it was because it was true. Although already he could feel his words would be easily skewed. He was treading on thin ice as it was. Maybe he could take a page out of Olivia’s book and sandwich truth within appreciation. He glanced around the room. “I am grateful for the times when you all have provided support. Especially when circumstances in recent years have proved extremely trying.” He noted a few nods. “But this past year has seen a change in my personal circumstances, and I’m far more motivated to seek the fortunes of Hartbury Hall than I ever recall before.” Because life was there. The Hall now hummed with energy and purpose.
