The Bet

Rufus grinned. “I will put my new curricle into the pot.”

“Well, you are at sea most of the time,” Sam retorted. “It is a shame for it to sit there and rot away quietly. It is best that it comes to me. I will use it the way it should be used.”

Rufus snorted but didn’t deign to answer, mainly because he knew his friend was right.

“Top of the range vehicle that,” Robard murmured with a nod. “Are you sure you want to lose it?”

Rufus grinned unconcernedly. “I can afford another,” he replied with confidence.

Indeed he could. His friends didn’t know it but he had amassed a vast wealth over the course of his time in the navy, partly from inheritance, and partly from self-made earnings and wise investment. He could afford whatever he wanted whenever he was on dry land. Unfortunately, when he was on dry land the only thing he wanted was to be back out at sea again. It was in his blood; his life; his being; his entire soul really, he couldn’t deny it. As such, he didn’t need a woman, well, in any way beyond a physical need.

Sam sighed heavily. He knew the stakes were high and had to come up with something of equal value if only to indicate to his friends that he was just as determined not to lose.

“Well, I don’t know what I can add to the pot,” Sam announced dolefully. He frowned thoughtfully but couldn’t clear his muddled thoughts enough to find anything of equal value.

Elijah nodded, not least because he too was struggling to find something.

Myles and Robard grinned at each other.

“You can throw in your annual subscription to Brookes’s. It’s worth about ten guineas,” Myles murmured. “Given there is a waiting list to that place, the value far exceeds its cost.”

Elijah nodded and sat back in his seat. “Of course, you can cover the entrance fee yourselves should you decide to use it. I never shall.”

All eyes turned to Sam, whose financial position was far more precarious than everyone else’s and they all knew it.

“You can throw in a twenty-five percent share in that brewery you have just inherited. That is work out about the same as the subscription to Brookes’s,” Elijah murmured. “The brewery needs work, I know, but the profits can be built up,” He lifted his tankard. “It does produce ale, and we all know how profitable that is.”

Sam nodded. If he was honest, the brewery was something he had been avoiding having to deal with since he had inherited it several weeks back. It seemed yet another burden that would take him away from home for several months, at a time when his father needed him at home to look after the family seat as well.

“Alright then,” he said, nodding with increased enthusiasm. “As long as you are prepared to help put the work into making it a going concern then I can see no problem with that.”

“I know my curricle is the lesser amount, but it is bespoke and has the finest handcrafted leather seating arrangement,” Rufus added.

“It’s a wonderful contrivance,” Elijah enthused.

Everyone nodded their agreement and held their tankards aloft in a toast.

“Right, well the bet is on then. Whoever marries loses. The last man standing in say, a year from now, is the one who wins the lot. A fortune, a hunting lodge, shares in a brewery, a new curricle, and an annual subscription to Brookes’s. Agreed?”

A chorus of cheers went up, accompanied by the clinking of the men’s tankards as they toasted the agreement. In unison, the men took long sips of their ale before they all grinned at each other and burst out laughing.

Before anybody could say anything, the barmaid tapped Myles on the shoulder.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but someone left this at the bar for you. They said to tell you it was urgent.” She handed Myles a carefully folded piece of parchment.

“That’s odd. It doesn’t have a seal,” Sam murmured with a frown.

They all fell silent while Myles read the note. Their concern grew when Myles froze. All trace of colour drained from his face, which became stark with disbelief.

“Good God, is this a joke?” he cried a few moments later. He threw the note onto the table and drained the dregs of his tankard. The urge to pour himself another drink and down that too was strong, but he knew he needed to keep his wits about him, especially given that he now needed to drive home.

“This can’t be right,” Elijah murmured once he had read the note and passed it to Sam.

“It has to be,” Sam replied. “Why would anybody send something like that as a joke?”

“I don’t understand it,” Myles said. “He was perfectly alright when I left him. He can’t have taken ill and deteriorated that quickly in three days, surely to goodness?”

Rufus snorted and threw the note back into the centre of the table where they all stared at it for several moments.