Page 85 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
He nodded, hope in his eyes.
“Same with council rates and taxes. They can’t afford to sell something that’s in debt. It’s going to be hard enough considering the Orangery needs a new roof that they’ll have to fix.”
“We really need a fundraiser,” George said. “They couldn’t try to sell the estate if money is coming in, right?”
Liam shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, speaking of fundraisers,” Liv said, glancing at her grandmother. “What do you all think about having a Christmas Regency Ball?”
August passed in renewed hope and vision. Calls to his solicitor put to bed some of his worst fears. The electricity could stay on; the rates, insurance, and taxes would be paid. It was just the day-to-day running of the Hall that would be affected. But Liv was right—again—that the income they received in the next few months was the Hall’s to do with as it liked. Which meant a flurry of new ideas. Which of course meant a whole lot more work.
“I can’t believe the things she talks us into doing,” George complained, rubbing her lower back.
He shifted another box. This one felt like it was full of books too. Cleaning out the old gatehouse had been another item on the moneymaking list Liv had created. Renting out the gatehouse. Starting a secondhand bookstore. Hosting Regency-themed events. Holding talks that people paid for. Hiring out the grounds for weddings and events.
“We have most of the assets already here, so it involves little financial outlay,” she said, her enthusiasm tempered with renewed steely focus. “We just need to think smart, and maybe outside the box.”
He’d offered his ideas about apple picking and selling vegetables. Veronica had suggested a jumble sale. Marge had said they could possibly outsource the café, once it got its lease, and charge rent. “Or you could see if there are any local businesses that might like to lease the room next to the gift shop.”
And sure, selling a few old books from his father’s cluttered library might not add up to much. But if it paid for the products to keep the toilets clean, that was good enough.
Things that had seemed hopelessly grey now felt more like a cloud tinged with gold. Or maybe that was the effect of being with Olivia, who seemed to carry possibility with her.
“Why should we let other people’s negativity stop our faith?” she’d said, and it became part of his internal war cry too. How dare these grey men attempt to shrink his future, simply because he’d been too battered by life that he’d been weak in the past? Those days were over.
He leaned against the doorway to the office, smiling as Liv’s face puckered in concentration. “Liv.”
She jumped, just like she always did when startled. “I didn’t notice you there.”
“There’s something I want you to see.”
“Can you give me a moment?” She glanced back at the computer. “I’m just trying to balance these figures, and—”
“I think you’re going to want to see this.”
Her head jerked up. Her face lit. “No!”
“Yes.”
“Really?” She turned to look out the office window.
“Uh-uh. Come with me. You should see this properly.”
“Oh!” She clasped her hands together, like a penitent saint. Except this woman had nothing to be sorry about. The plumber, who had taken forever to get back to them, on the other hand … “Come on.”
She fairly skipped as she hurried from the room and out the front door, and he had to lengthen his stride to catch her.
“Liv, wait.”
She paused, turning to him. “I can hear it!”
If she was this excited hearing it, then what would she do when she saw it? “Here.” He held out his hand. “Close your eyes and come with me.” He smiled. “You can trust me.”
Her gaze held his for a moment longer; then she shut her eyes and he wrapped his hand around hers.
They’d barely touched in recent weeks. He hadn’t wanted to stir up anything, not when it felt like he was taking advantage of her good heart in so many ways already. But this, at last, was something he could do for her.
“Now there’s a step.” He waited as she slid a cautious foot forward. “And another one.”
