ever known.”
That sounded exactly like Bean.
The siblings exchanged shimmering glances.
Mr. Quincey cleared his throat. “You will not be receiving a bill for these services. Thanks to your father, our business is more profitable than we dreamed.”
“Nonetheless, you deserve compensation for your labor,” Jacob said. “Bean would not want us to take advantage of anyone. Please let us pay you in his honor.”
“We thank you for your kind offer and all of your effort,” Chloe added. “If ever you need anything, please don’t hesitate to come to us. We are at your service, just as Bean was.”
Mr. Quincey gave a jerky nod. “I wouldn’t expect less from a Wynchester,” he said gruffly. “No one has ever heard you say no to someone in need.”
He turned before they could respond and strode further down the processional to guide the attendants into their carriages.
Isaiah, their black-liveried tiger, helped Chloe into the coach meant for the Wynchesters. The six siblings settled themselves in the same order as their family portrait.
Just like the portrait, Bean was missing.
The painting would come home. The Wynchesters would see to that. But Bean never would. He’d been stolen from them permanently.
They exchanged bleak glances.
“I should have been there for him,” Chloe blurted out. “Not teaching French, five miles away—”
“I never left the house,” said Elizabeth, “and I couldn’t see him either. We were banned from the sickroom.”
“Protecting us,” Graham said, his voice rough. “Down to his last breath.”
“So very Bean,” Tommy said softly. “A Puckish angel to the end.”
Bells were ringing as they filed out of the carriage. A cold rain had begun to fall.
The siblings followed the coffin to a large hole in the earth. Jacob, Graham, and Tommy joined the pall-bearers. Elizabeth, Chloe, and Marjorie hung behind.
Chloe couldn’t look at the coffin. Didn’t want to see her siblings and the other pall-bearers lower Bean into a gaping hole or pile dirt on top of him.
Just knowing it was going to happen compressed her stomach into a tiny little ball.
But she couldn’t walk away from Bean until she absolutely had to. He had never left Chloe behind. It hurt to abandon him.
Mr. Hartwell began the funeral sermon.
She tried not to think what life would be like without Bean. He’d provided well for them, of course. He always did.
Years ago, he’d created “Horace” and “Honoria,” his fictitious heir and heiress. A baron, even one from Balcovia, a small foreign principality in the Low Countries, had far more status than a group of orphans. Avenues that were denied to Chloe and her siblings welcomed Horace and Honoria with open arms. It gave them access they would not otherwise have.
Whilst Bean was alive, they’d had little use for the fiction, but now that he was gone, that, too, would have to change. Marjorie would teach the siblings how to forge the supposed heir and heiress’s signatures. If a personal appearance was required, Tommy could impersonate either Horace or Honoria. Bean would no longer be there to sweep in and save the day. But they weren’t completely on their own.
Bean had made additional bequests.
He’d provided small fortunes for all of them. Each would earn a respectable annuity in the five-percents. Not that the siblings needed the money. Bean’s will stipulated that every expense would be fully covered, for any sibling or any client.
He had also created an even larger trust, the interest of which was to be used for orphans. That was the entire direction: For orphans. The “how” was up to the Wynchesters.
Chloe shifted her weight on the uneven grass.
Countless other sums had gone to this person or that charity, with a generous annuity set aside for each of the servants.
And he’d left the novel he was currently reading… to Chloe.
Her eyes grew moist and a crooked smile came unbidden to her lips. He hadn’t mentioned the novel by name. The testament had been written years before he’d fallen ill. But Bean had been confident he and Chloe would still be reading together and exchanging books.
He was sharing his with her one last time.
A loud sniff behind her caused Chloe to glance over her shoulder. She jumped, startled.
The cemetery was no longer empty. The small family-only service was now flanked by a growing crowd.
The mourners were all of the people Bean had helped over the decades. From titled peers to working people who had interacted with him and come away the richer for it.
Chloe exchanged awed glances with her siblings. They had only told a handful of close friends, but word