by L C Kincaide
He chuckled nervously. “Forgive me for the misunderstanding. It momentarily slipped my mind you have a manor of the same name in your country. The property in question is the Everdon Manor here in England.”
What? The air whooshed out of her. That can’t be possible! Mum couldn’t sell it just like that without saying anything to her. Elinor Stuart was no fool. She likely knew better than anyone what was in the Trust, down to the fine print on the oldest of the documents. Yet, what she was planning to accomplish went against what Mason Everdon had stipulated over a hundred years ago. Her mind raced determined this transaction would never come to pass.
“I can be there later this afternoon.”
Her belongings crammed into one bag and the souvenirs in the new satchel, she raced out the door arriving breathless at the reception desk. Miss Collins looked up quizzically.
“Can you help me? When is the next train to London? I must return immediately.”
The receptionist’s fingers flew over the keyboard and she gave her several departure times. Emma booked a ticket for the train departing in an hour. It would take nearly forty minutes to get there.
“Is Mr. Kinsley around?”
“No, I’m sorry. He had an early appointment.”
Damn! She hated to leave like this. Taking a piece of stationary, she scrawled a brief note thanking him again and promising to be in touch. From within the drawing room, a billiard ball clunked into another followed by a cheerful shout. Emma peeked inside to a pair of soldiers wearing uniforms from the last Great War. Intent on their game, they didn’t notice her, and she backed away.
“Would you give this to Mr. Kinsley when he returns, please.”
“Certainly, Miss Stuart.” She still eyed her curious about her hasty departure. Emma imagined Miss Walsh would execute cartwheels when she learned of her leaving.
A few minutes later, a taxi crunched along the drive and Emma ran for it.
Wearing sneakers, jeans and a T-shirt topped with a fuschia leather jacket and weighed down with bags, Emma pushed through the glass doors of the Simcoe and Andrews offices. The receptionist, taking one look at her, bounded to her feet ready to call security; admittedly, Emma hadn’t made a good first impression. Once Emma announced herself, the distraught woman calmed visibly. She grabbed the phone and after a brief exchange, a lean man in his latter half of middle age emerged with his hand outstretched. After an effusive greeting, Mr. Andrews ushered Emma into his office. The receptionist followed, and when Emma declined an assortment of beverages, she closed the door leaving them alone.
The lawyer selected one of several manila folders and opened it. “Ah, here we are!” He thumbed through the file giving it a perfunctory scan and turned it toward her. Yellow post-it markers indicated places for her to sign.
Emma turned the pages and started from the beginning.
“It is a standard contract, I assure you, Miss Stuart.” He said with a hint of impatience in his voice.
Emma ignored him and skimmed the first page for the name of the buyer, not entirely surprised to find the Hyde-Smythe name on the Purchaser line. Scanning the succeeding pages, Elinor’s signature was already there as a representative of the Everdon Trust, and judging from the date, she must have signed the papers while she was reading the Trust file on her laptop in the manor yesterday. She frowned willing her fingers to not crush the paper.
“There seems to be a name missing.” She said meeting his gaze.
The lawyer blinked at her, his mouth twitching at the corners. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t see Adam Kinsley’s name anywhere.”
“My dear Miss Stuart, this transaction does not concern anyone other than Mrs. Stuart and yourself as representatives of the Trust, and the purchasers.” He insisted, but his ears had reddened.
“I disagree. The Trust, as drafted by my great-great uncle Mason Everdon clearly states no one can sell the property without the express written consent of all the parties involved, which includes Mr. Kinsley as the last Everdon heir residing in Britain. He should have at the very least been notified. Or have you missed that part, my dear Mr. Andrews?”
The lawyer’s face reddened perceptibly, and he glared at her from across the desk. “This is most unorthodox.” He blustered. “I am merely following your mother’s wishes as I have for the past twenty-five years. It is all completely correct, and I assure you this transaction will go through with or without your co-operation, young woman.”
“I don’t think so. If you already knew that, you wouldn’t need my signature. You may have had better luck eight months ago when no one would have been the wiser, and not just Adam Kinsley.” Emma pushed the document across the table, resisting adding, “old man”. “I’m not signing this.” She grasped the handles of her bags and stood to go. “Good day, Mr. Andrews.”
It wasn’t until the elevator doors slid closed that she let out the breath she had been holding. She slumped against the wall. Her fingernails were digging into the handles of her bags and she was shaking from the confrontation, her mother’s deviousness and the injustice taking place. Both the lawyer and Elinor must have been convinced she would obediently sign anything placed before her without warning nor explanation. People in business attire gave her wary glances all the way to the lobby. She hailed a taxi to the hotel, and for the next hour paced the carpet as the confrontation between her and her mother drew near.
She understood Elinor wanting to dispose of a property that was nothing more than an extra burden. If she had brought it up, they could have at least discussed it, after all, she had a right to know. And Adam? The manor he had worked so hard to restore to perfection and operate would be suddenly under new ownership and he’d be taking orders from the Hyde-Smythes, provided they wouldn’t change everything after the deal went through. He would never learn of his legacy and what his great-great-grandfather, Mason Everdon had intended for him and his predecessors. The injustice of what almost happened burned deep and hot within her. Thinking about him, she picked up her phone. He had probably read her note by now and was wondering why she had run off in that fashion. While he deserved to know what she had uncovered, was she the best person to give him this information? This was no light matter, but one of great significance — a life-altering discovery. Someone had to tell him and it didn’t seem Mr. Andrews was about to volunteer for the job, and she never had a chance to bring it up as the appointment had quickly turned hostile.
Emma gnawed at her lip, conflicted. She liked him. From the time they spent together, he seemed like a great guy, a nice person and now, a distant — very distant cousin, not unlike Robert and Grace were. In some ways, she wished she hadn’t stumbled upon this deeply buried Everdon secret and that knew what was the right thing to do. Eventually, Adam would learn the truth. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hi Adam. It’s Emma.”
“Emma, hello. Is everything all right?”
“Um… yeah. Sorry, I had to get back unexpectedly. I called to thank you again, and that I had a great time at the manor.”
“I’m sorry I missed you and I’m glad you enjoyed your stay. I was delighted to show you around.” He paused briefly. “When is your flight home?”
“Thursday morning.”
“Bollocks — sorry. I was hoping we could meet again before you head off, but I have meetings all day tomorrow.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.” Emma was gladdened to hear he would have liked to spend more time with her and oddly relieved. She wasn’t good at hiding things. “I would have liked that too.”
“If you have a minute, we can chat on the phone later.”
“Sure, I’d like that.” And she wouldn’t give herself away every time their eyes met.
She gave him her number though he probably saw it on the display and they said their goodbyes.
A
dam set the phone down, frustrated by his lack of time. Musing on Emma and their two days of talking and sharing and laughing together, made him smile, and just like that, she was gone and he wouldn’t have a chance to see her again. His disappointment surprised him, for he hadn’t been expecting any more than a pleasant visit with a lovely young woman who had intrigued him at first sight, but now he found himself wanting to see more of her. Instead, he was mired in meetings these days with marketing people. Was this a sign? Bollocks! She had reminded him of his original passion for restoration, and he thought about getting it back, provided he found the time for it. Until now, he believed himself to be completely fulfilled in his work — in his life. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.
“Ah, good. You’re back. Did Mr. Andrews reach you? He said he would be in contact this morning.” Elinor was in her room just as she finished her call to Adam.
“He did.”
“You should make an appointment to see him tomorrow. It is too late now. We can go together.”
“I’ve already seen him.”
Elinor paused surprised to hear that. “You have? Wonderful. The sooner all our business is concluded here the better. Now I need to dress for dinner.” Elinor turned away heading back to her room.
“I didn’t sign it.” Emma bit her lip.
Elinor stopped in her tracks. “What did you say?” She faced her in disbelief.
”I said I didn’t sign it.” A hand bunched into a fist.
“And why-ever not?” The pencilled eyebrows rose dramatically. “Was there something about it you didn’t understand? Mr. Andrews surely explained to you the particulars. It’s a simple enough task.”
“He did, and I couldn’t do it. It’s wrong.”
“I don’t understand, Emma. It is a straightforward Realestate transaction.”
“I get that part. But why? Are we running out of money? Is that the reason for the quick sell?”
Elinor gave her an exasperated look. “Don’t be absurd.”
“Then why?”
“An opportunity to sell it to a qualifying buyer arose.”
“But it isn’t ours to sell. Not like that.”
“And why on earth not?” Elinor’s cheeks flushed with points of color.
“Because it isn’t just ours. What about Adam Kinsley? He has rights too.”
“Who?” Elinor asked innocently, her brows arching again.
Emma blew out air in frustration. “You know exactly who I’m talking about, mum. Adam Kinsley. He’s named in the Trust as the last Everdon descendant residing in this country. What if he doesn’t want to give it up?”
Elinor looked at her coldly. “If he can spare four million pounds, he won’t have to. But I doubt he has that sort of money lying around.”
“Whatever. Mason intended for him to have it or it would be given to charity. You… we don’t have the right to do this. It’s wrong.”
Elinor marched in front of her. “Do you for one moment believe I will allow Mason Everdon to continue to dictate from the grave what I will and will not do? I have spent my life paying for his whims and I will not be held hostage by his dubious intentions regarding the descendant of an illegitimate offspring he sired over a hundred years ago, which I may remind you, he did not want! No, I am done with his curse and I am done with him!”
“Mum, it’s not about him or his son. They are both gone, I get that. This is about someone who is here. I won’t have him cheated of what is rightfully his. He doesn’t even know!”
“My point exactly! His predecessors have done well enough without being privy to their origins and so will he.” She exhaled and rolled her eyes to the ceiling before continuing. “I don’t understand you, Emma. Why do you care? Why now? You don’t even know this Adam Kinsley.”
“Actually, I do. He was at the reception, and he invited me to see the manor that he restored and operates. That is where I’ve been.”
Elinor touched a palm to her forehead. “Dear God! I cannot believe what I’m hearing!” She gave Emma a hard stare. “It’s not enough that you wreak havoc in our own manor. Now you have to do the same in this one?”
Wreak havoc? Emma blinked back, and she balled her other hand into a fist to keep her hands from trembling.
“I almost didn’t make it out alive trying to set things right! Did you forget the danger we were all in?” Her fingernails cut into her palms. How she hated confrontations with her mother.
“How can I forget when it was you and Rachel stirring everything up with that ridiculous séance of yours?” Elinor fought for composure, but her voice had risen.
And here they were, back in familiar territory stomping over already hard-packed ground. How she wanted to shout the truth about Victoria Ruskin, but instead, Emma took a ragged breath. Arguing with her mother was pointless — better to let it go. She could barely keep herself together anymore. Why she wasn’t curled up in a fetal position under the covers mystified her, but whatever happened, she would not sign anything. For all the lawyer’s bluster and Elinor’s harsh words, there was nothing either of them could do short of killing her to get around it.
Elinor took advantage of Emma’s silence and continued. “So, this is your new calling, Emma? Have you developed a Robin Hood complex since I’ve last seen you?” Her gaze hardened perceptibly. “Why can’t you simply move on like everyone else has? Have a look around you. Robert is now a married man, your own brother is about to become a father. John is establishing himself in the family business and Caroline is growing into a superb musician. Even Grace is done with that tawdry modelling nonsense and is pursuing a career in photography.”
Emma flinched. Her mother really knew where to stick it to her.
Elinor spoke her next words slowly and deliberately. “I ask of you one simple thing and even that is apparently too much to expect. Honestly, Emma I’m at my wits end knowing what to do with you.” Elinor twisted the knife. “Let me remind you again. Three generations of Everdons, Langstones and Ruskins made sacrifices because of our predecessor’s choices. To an extent, so have you. I’ve often blamed him for your inability to find a direction in life. Now we have an opportunity to gain from it. For heaven’s sake, Emma, don’t be a fool!”
Emma stood statue-still under her mother’s frigid gaze. She may as well be made of marble. Elinor turned on her heel and stalked from the room. “I will give you until morning for you to return to your senses.”
The words seemed to mobilize her, and she strode into the bathroom after her.
“I already told the lawyer and I’m telling you. I won’t sign it. You can berate me all you like, but I’m not changing my mind. And you know why? Because whatever happens, I still have to live with myself and it worries me, mum that you see having a conscience as a weakness.”
The door slammed in her face ending their altercation.
Emma perched on the edge of the tub and trembled. It didn’t have to come to this. They should have been able to discuss it calmly like rational adults, but Elinor Everdon wasn’t known for her flexibility. She was… obdurate. Emma was glad Adam had been spared the knowledge of what was happening around him and doubly glad she had exercised enough self-control to keep it to herself.
She stared at the floor that blurred in an out of focus through gathering tears. Funny, she hadn’t noticed the pattern before. Ivory penny rounds formed the base of a Fleur de Lis design bordered in black subway tiles. It was pretty. Adam would have appreciated it with his keen eye for detail.
Thinking of him, Emma regretted having left in such a panic. She could have taken her time, but she had no way of knowing that this morning. One of them mentioned talking later, but a proper goodbye in person would have been better. In a week, she’d be ancient history. The cool-blooded Miss Walsh would make certain.
After a while, Emma’s bottom became t
oo sore from the narrow lip of the claw-footed tub, and she dragged herself to her room drained. What time was it anyway? Streetlights from below pressed through the sheers letting her know it was early evening. It didn’t matter and her appetite had deserted her if it had been there at all today.
She could stay here and wait for morning to resume their argument. Nobody needed to know. As far as Rachel was concerned, she was having a fabulous time, so why spoil that? A week ago, she would have been calling John still under the illusion they were a couple. She dropped to the bed and fell onto her back. Maybe her mother was right. It could be John finally recognized her for what she is — a spoiled little rich girl, a dismal failure, a misfit at best, never mind a landlubber, probably her worst fault yet. Tears overflowed and rolled into her ears. Regardless of the labels, she would never live up to Elinor’s standards, and after today, she couldn’t imagine how their relationship would continue. The plane ride home was going to be a nightmare that much was certain. With any luck, a spirit would come along and keep her company. Whatever else, they at least were non-judgemental.
Eventually, Emma drew her legs up on the bed and curled onto her side. At some point she awakened and removed her clothes and slipped between the sheets.
Elinor returned to her room after a tasteless dinner. The Ruskins had gone up to bed to rest before the morning flight home, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She had been enjoying this visit, the first time she could relax about the future and suddenly, there he was, a reminder of loose ends and potential problems. Her anger rose thinking about her lifetime of sacrifices, living in isolation for months at a stretch and continuing a timeworn tradition. She’d even had a child, a daughter to ensure subsequent generations to carry on the duties, though a son would have been better, safer — all that with a single purpose in mind, and now everything hung in the balance. Thank goodness for Matthew. At least he and his children would be safe.
