An Unwelcome Suitor (Entangled Inheritance Book 4)

by Ashtyn Newbold

Dr. Pembroke was invited to the reading of the will?

  And he was late. Again.

  My stomach, now one knot, felt keen to cast up its accounts all over my dress. I met Dr. Pembroke’s eyes. Fresh shame burned at my cheeks over the words I had said to him three weeks before. I had scolded him for his bluntness, but I had exercised bluntness in doing so. I cleared my thoughts, focusing on the most important matter: what the devil was he doing here? For once, my mouth felt clamped shut.

  Dr. Pembroke moved to sit on the opposite side of the room, far from Mr. Yeatman, who had taken to staring at him with a challenge in his gaze.

  I gulped, crossing my ankles to stop the shaking in my legs. There would be no challenging whatever was written on that document. I could see Aunt Augusta grinning from beyond the grave, rubbing her hands together as she anticipated the reading of her will, and the surprise that was sure to come with it. I did not try to guess at the contents. My mind was numb, confused. All I could do was try not to vomit, and, if Aunt Augusta was indeed watching, keep proper posture.

  “Very well. Now that the entire party is present…” Mr. Tuttle-Kirk pushed his spectacles higher on his nose, clearing his throat again. “I will begin the reading.” He opened his mouth before snapping it closed again. “I forgot one thing. One moment.”

  I could not bear the suspense. My foot tapped against the floor, and my heart seemed to have ceased beating. I could not begin to imagine the status of my complexion. No amount of pinching from Isabel could have cured the paleness.

  Mr. Tuttle-Kirk lifted a smaller paper. “Mrs. Cluett asked that I read this prior to the reading of her will. Two weeks prior to her death, she requested a—er—slight amendment, as she called it. I believe this letter is meant to give some form of explanation.” He wiped at his forehead before beginning in his nasal voice.

  “To my dearest great-nieces, Juliana, Elizabeth, and Martha,

  Allow me first to convey in the most concise manner my love for you and my wish for your enduring happiness. As I have affirmed on more than one occasion, your happiness is of my utmost concern. I cannot leave this existence without ensuring that you find it after I am gone. It has come to my attention that Juliana is not proactive enough and is far too old to secure that which will bring her greatest happiness, a husband. Thus, it is my responsibility to provide you with a solution, one that I strongly believe will benefit all three of you.

  In my quest to secure happiness for you, my great-nieces, I could not in good conscience omit an opportunity for my dear physician, Dr. Luke Pembroke. I cannot bear the thought of his enduring any misfortune if it is within my power to eliminate it. As I amended my will, I did so with great care as to benefit all whom I love. I believe I have left no knot untied, and there will be no mistaking my intentions. It is my hope that you will not take my intervention grudgingly, no matter how forced it may feel. I have always had a talent for knowing how to bring others joy, and in due time you will be grateful for such intervention.

  Your loving Aunt Augusta.”

  Juliana’s hand tightened around mine. I held my breath. I took Martha’s hand, hoping to erase the fear in her green eyes. What had Aunt Augusta done?

  Dr. Pembroke rubbed one side of his face—the side facing my sisters and me. I wished I could see his expression. Was he pleased? Embarrassed? I could not begin to imagine what the amendments entailed. I did not want to know. Mr. Yeatman’s eyes flashed with dread, and he seemed to be sinking into his chair.

  “Now, for the will.” Mr. Tuttle-Kirk smoothed out the other document in front of him. He glanced up at my sisters and me. Did I see sympathy in his eyes? That was certainly not good.

  “The last will and testament of Augusta Margaretta Cluett of Brookhaven, Berkshire, England.”

  I gripped my sisters’ hands so tightly I feared I might crush them.

  “I, Augusta Margaretta Cluett, do leave my finest racing stallion by the name of Thunder, to Mr. George Burbidge. I leave Mrs. George Burbidge with her choice of any instrument from the music room in my estate.”

  I frowned. The Burbidge’s, other relatives of Aunt Augusta’s lived in Spain. I doubted they would come all this way for an instrument and a horse that they would have to take across the sea.

  Mr. Tuttle-Kirk paused at Mr. Yeatman’s sigh of annoyance. “I looked forward to riding that stallion,” he muttered.

  Mr. Tuttle-Kirk ignored Mr. Yeatman’s lamenting statement, turning his attention back to the will. “I bequeath Brookhaven, and all its lands, properties, and possessions, to my great-nieces, Juliana, Elizabeth, and Martha Watts, revoking previous right of inheritance from Mr. Theodore Nathanial Yeatman, of London, England.”

  Mr. Yeatman sprung forward on his chair, his face darkening. “Wha—”

  Mr. Tuttle-Kirk hurried on, his voice growing quick, as if he could not wait until it was over. “My great-nieces shall inherit the estate with the condition…” The solicitor paused, his nose twitching. “With the condition that the eldest, Juliana Watts, wed Dr. Luke Pembroke of Berkshire, England, before the end of the summer, the date marked September 21st, 1815.”

  My skin grew cold, and Juliana’s hand fell limp around mine. My heart crashed against my chest.

  “In the event that the above requirements are met and on the condition that Dr. Luke Pembroke allows residence to Elizabeth and Martha as well as his wife, Juliana, he shall hereby be granted equal right to receipt and ownership of all lands and structures entitled to Brookhaven. If such conditions are not met, none of the above parties shall be in receipt of the estate of Brookhaven, and it shall pass to my aforementioned nephew.”

  “How can this be?” I interrupted. My loud voice seemed to startle the solicitor, causing him to drop the document onto his desk.

  An incredulous gasp came from Martha and Mr. Yeatman. Juliana and Dr. Pembroke were silent.

  Mr. Yeatman stood, his face twisted in shock.

  My mind spun, flashes of hot and cold pouring over my head and shoulders. Before I knew it, I was standing, stepping partially in front of Juliana, as if to protect her from the document Mr. Tuttle-Kirk held, and its cruel—so very cruel—contents.

  “Balderdash!” Mr. Yeatman said. “Brookhaven has always been entitled to me. I have been raised to such an expectation.”

  Mr. Tuttle-Kirk, to his credit, chose to ignore the rage directed at him from Mr. Yeatman. He removed his spectacles with a sigh, turning his gaze toward me. “Mrs. Cluett was quite determined to have a greater hand in the future happiness of her great-nieces.”

  I shuddered with disbelief. How had she assumed that forcing Juliana into an unwanted marriage would make any of us happy? She had spoken many times about how she doubted Juliana’s ability to ever marry at her age. Did she think this was the only way? If Juliana had told Aunt Augusta about her attachment to Gilbert, this might not have happened. I had convinced Juliana to keep her secret. Much of this ordeal was my fault.

  “Did she give any other option?” I asked.

  The solicitor shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  Juliana, pale and rigid, stared at the floor. Dr. Pembroke was just as quiet, his jaw tight.

  If Dr. Pembroke and Juliana did not marry, we would lose the estate. Gilbert’s tiny cottage and income could not possibly provide a living for all of us. Mr. Yeatman would then inherit Brookhaven. The idea of living with him sent my stomach roiling. I closed my eyes against the blackness in my vision. I could not live under Mr. Yeatman’s care. I could not bear to be near him, and his attention was disturbing. Surely that was never Aunt Augusta’s design. She had likely assumed that Juliana and Dr. Pembroke would happily accept her terms and Mr. Yeatman would never see his day as master of Brookhaven.

  But she had not known about Gilbert Robins.

  Mr. Tuttle-Kirk lowered his spectacles to the tip of his long nose. “None of this becomes final until summer’s end. The decision, of course, will be primarily Miss Watts’s and Dr. Pembroke’s.” He stood, crossing th
e room to my sisters and me. “Unfortunately, I have another appointment across town. If you have need of assistance, any at all, please do contact me. We will meet again come September.” His eyes twinkled with condolence as he took each of our hands in turn. When he took Juliana’s hand, he regarded her in a fatherly way. “If it is any consolation at all, I have dealt with many strange wills of late. The amendments to this one were quite unconventional, yes, but if you would believe it, I have seen much stranger.”

  I tried to draw a breath, but felt suffocated by the hopelessness of our situation. I had been raised to believe that that which could be taken, would be. First my parents, then my childhood home, then Aunt Augusta. I should have known Brookhaven would be next. Although my future without Brookhaven was uncertain, there was no way now that we would keep it.

  I could not allow Juliana to abandon her Gilbert.

  How could she even consider it? Regret flooded over me. Why had I convinced Juliana to keep her courtship a secret from Aunt Augusta? If she had known, she never would have arranged that horrible condition in her will. It was my fault.

  It was my fault.

  We filed out of the office with Mr. Yeatman at the lead and Dr. Pembroke at the rear. My eyes flitted between him and Juliana as we stepped outside.

  The busy sounds of the London streets were drastically different from the stifling silence of the solicitor’s office. I tied my bonnet, my fingers shaking.

  Mr. Yeatman paced in a line before stopping in front of Juliana. He raked his hand over his hair, adding to the disheveled quality. “You will not adhere to your great-aunt’s requirements, will you?” His voice carried a tone of disbelief. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Dr. Pembroke. “And you? Pembroke. What right do you have to Brookhaven? I should have known the old dolt would take the inheritance from me, a gentleman, and give it to a common physician. I should have guessed when I first made your acquaintance that you would try to take yet another thing that was rightfully mine.”

  The two men had already met? By the stiff nature of the shoulders of both men, and the cold manner in which they conversed, I could only guess that whatever their past meeting had been had not been pleasant.

  Mr. Yeatman drew a deep breath as he tried to collect himself. “If it means I may have Brookhaven, I am willing to ensure all three of my cousins are comfortable in the estate. I might even consider…marrying one myself.”

  My terror was confirmed by Mr. Yeatman’s gaze fixated on me. He looked back to Dr. Pembroke lazily, as if impressed by his own generosity. What a preposterous idea! I would never consider marrying Mr. Yeatman. The very thought made my stomach heave.

  It would be painful indeed to see the estate pass to Mr. Yeatman. He did not even care for Aunt Augusta. He did not possess one bit of kindness. He wanted Brookhaven for his own selfish greed.

  Dr. Pembroke had been silent, his skin as pale as Juliana’s, his eyes—still indistinguishable in color—were fixed on Mr. Yeatman. To my surprise, Dr. Pembroke ignored his words and stepped around him, coming closer to Juliana. I threaded my arm around hers, hoping to steady her.

  “Miss Watts.” His deep voice was quiet as he regarded my sister. He seemed intent not to look at me. “I have a patient to visit this afternoon, but it would be prudent to discuss the will as soon as possible.”

  “Yes.” Juliana nodded, her throat bobbing with a labored swallow. “It would.”

  “May I come to Brookhaven tomorrow afternoon?”

  Juliana nodded, her eyes dropping to the cobblestones.

  I stared at Dr. Pembroke, studying his unreadable expression. Was he pleased to have a chance at inheriting the property? Or did he see this disaster for what it was. A disaster.

  “Do keep me informed of your decisions,” Mr. Yeatman said, narrowing his gaze. “As I said before, I will allow my cousins residence. I would rather keep what is rightfully mine than give it up for a mere inconvenience.”

  Dr. Pembroke glanced halfway over his shoulder, the muscles along his jaw tightening. My despair was heightening by the moment. He replaced his hat on his head, stepping toward our waiting coach. He handed Juliana up the step before extending his hand to me. I took it, avoiding his gaze as I sat down across from Juliana. Once Martha was inside and the door closed, I slumped against the cushion, biting my lip to keep my emotions tied together.

  “How dare Aunt Augusta do this to us?” My voice shook. “What is a physician to her own family?”

  Juliana stared at her hands. Martha stared out the window, just as silent. I wiped at a stray tear.

  “Perhaps we might all live in Gilbert’s cottage,” Martha said, her tone hopeful.

  Juliana glanced up, her eyes wet. “He cannot afford to take care of us all. He has his mother and Frederica to look after, and there are only two rooms.”

  Martha did not mention the possibility of moving to Spain to live with our aunt and uncle. Surely she dreaded the thought of such a distant separation just as much as I.

  “We have overcome difficulty before. It is no matter.” I touched Martha’s knee. “After Juliana marries Gilbert, you and I will not live with Mr. Yeatman. I have a friend, Henrietta, from Kent.” I swallowed against the dryness of my throat. “Her family fell on difficult times and she has since become a governess. We might find similar positions of our own. The situation is not ideal, but it is much better than forcing ourselves into unhappy marriages or living with Mr. Yeatman. We might even find work together within the same household, perhaps a wealthy one in need of multiple lady’s maids.” I tried to keep my voice optimistic for Martha’s sake, but the effort was exhausting. “Or—or, one of our friends from childhood might be in want of a companion, which would be a suitable position for one of our upbringing.”

  “Eliza.” Juliana’s voice was firm.

  My gaze pulled to her. The resoluteness in her eyes shocked me into silence. “You and Martha will not live with Mr. Yeatman with his gambling parties and mistresses, nor will you be governesses or lady’s maids or companions.” Her lip quivered, but her voice remained steady. “I shall marry Dr. Pembroke.”

  It took me a moment to register Juliana’s declaration. Marry Dr. Pembroke? Conform to Aunt Augusta’s absurd request? The carriage bounced as it passed over a rock, and I jolted forward in my seat. “No! You cannot.”

  “I have already made up my mind.” Her eyes flashed. I knew Juliana’s determination to be unrivaled. Except, perhaps, by mine.

  “Don’t even think of it, Juliana.”

  “You cannot change my mind.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “You are in love with Gilbert.”

  “Love requires sacrifice.” She sniffed, her gaze flicking between Martha and me. “More than anything in the world, I love both of you.” She fell silent, her pallor intensifying. “I care for Gilbert deeply, but you and Martha are my family. I cannot leave you to the care of Mr. Yeatman and risk the ruin of your reputations, nor can I allow you to seek employment in a household. Mama and Papa and Aunt Augusta raised us to a higher standard than that.”

  I clenched my hands into fists so tightly they hurt. “No, Juliana. You need not worry over Martha and me. We will manage.”

  Juliana turned her gaze toward the window, her jaw tight. “If Dr. Pembroke is willing, I shall accept his proposal tomorrow when he calls upon us. Can you not see? Aunt Augusta created this amendment knowing there would be no other suitable option for us if I did not comply to her demand. It is the only choice.”

  “Juliana!” Panic rose in my throat. “Do not do this. Gilbert—”

  “Please!” She turned her gaze on me, hard and fierce. “Do not say his name again.” Tears wobbled on her eyelids, but she didn’t let them fall. “Do not speak of him again. I will tell him of my decision once it is final. We shall stay at Brookhaven, and we will—we will learn to be happy. We have done it before.”

  I fell back against my seat. Martha sniffled from beside me, and I
looped my arm around hers. Raw silence cloaked the carriage, interrupted only by Martha’s quieted sobs. My face was hot, my muscles tight as I took in Juliana’s broken form. She had already become a mere shadow of the happy, smiling woman I had seen just hours before.

  I closed my eyes, focusing on calming my breathing and rapid pulse. Juliana had given up every opportunity that could have been hers by taking care of Martha and me after our parents died. She had sacrificed her highly anticipated season, stayed firmly by my side when I was grieving and too young to go to balls and parties, and had turned away eligible suitors that could have married her and taken her away from my side when I needed her most. Nothing she had done in the past six years had been for herself, for her own happiness. Nothing. And now she meant to do it all over again.

  With every mile we traveled closer to home, to Brookhaven, to the place that could no longer be ours, my dread intensified.

  With it, my determination flourished.

  No, Juliana would not wed Dr. Pembroke. I would make certain of it.

  Chapter 5

  I turned Aunt Augusta’s watch over in my palm, letting the weight and coolness of the metal calm my nerves. With each turn, I checked the time.

  By Dr. Pembroke’s word, he would be arriving in two minutes.

  By my estimation, it would be much closer to fifteen minutes. He was always late.

  I drummed my fingers against my embroidery hoop. I had only picked it up so Juliana and Martha would think I was doing more than anxiously awaiting the arrival of the physician in the drawing room. It had taken a great deal of strategy to ensure that Dr. Pembroke’s calling card did not fall into the wrong hands. I had awoken early and had remained at my place near the front door until the card arrived, and I was the first to snatch it up.

  I chewed my lower lip and planned the words I meant to say to him when he arrived. Walking to the writing desk in the corner, I withdrew the notes I had written in regard to the conversation I was planning. I read it over as I paced the room. I had enlisted Martha’s help in luring Juliana to the gardens to allow me time to speak with Dr. Pembroke alone. Martha had concocted the perfect plan of convincing Juliana that our cat had become trapped in a bush. Juliana would never leave her dear Apricot in danger. She and Martha would be looking for the kitten for long enough for me to speak with Dr. Pembroke alone and send him on his way.