Christmas Bequest

by Barbara Miller

  Christmas Bequest

  Barbara Miller

  Blush sensuality level: This is a sweet romance (kisses only, no sexual content).

  The shocking news comes right before Christmas—Patience Mayhew’s beloved brother Jack was lost in the Battle of Nivelle. Since his son is but a toddler, Jack left his estate in trust to his best friend Stuart—the man who, years ago, broke Patience’s heart.

  Stuart Marsh is just as shocked as Patience at Jack’s bequest. How can he possibly run Heatherfield when Jack’s widow resents him and his sister detests him? But as he settles in and sees how much work Heatherfield needs, he realizes it’s his chance to prove himself to Patience all over again. He wants nothing more than to lift the burden from her shoulders and prove that Christmas miracles exist—and that love, real love, never truly fades away.

  Christmas Bequest

  Barbara Miller

  Dedication

  To our horses, dogs and cats, past and present, for teaching us to be human.

  Chapter One

  Hampshire County, England, December 21, 1813

  “And to my friend Captain Stuart Marsh, I leave the estate of Heatherfield in trust for my son James until he comes of age.” Hodding, the solicitor, smiled nervously, as well he might since the faces of all three ladies hanging on his words displayed shock and then anger.

  Captain Marsh himself owned to those same emotions where he sat in the small office at Heatherfield, jammed in between the bereaved widow and his childhood friend Patience, the sister of the departed.

  “Of all the absurdities.” Jack’s mother burst into tears as she did every twenty minutes since Stuart had, a week ago, brought home the news of her son’s death.

  Stuart knew he should try to comfort her but he also knew it would be useless and he didn’t want to turn the bout of weeping into a tirade.

  “We’ll see about this.” Lady Heatherfield grabbed her little boy’s hand and flounced out of the room.

  Why she had brought James to the reading of the will was beyond Stuart but the child waved forlornly at him as he was dragged away, his fair hair fluffing up at their rapid exit.

  Jack’s sister, Patience Mayhew, glared—first at Stuart then at the solicitor—with her cutting dark gaze. She had swept her long black hair up into a topknot and donned a black shawl over her mourning dress for this occasion. It left her creamy neck exposed to tempt Stuart away from the topic of bequests.

  “Any chance we can have my brother declared non compos mentis after the fact?”

  “Patience!” her mother whispered fiercely.

  “I’m afraid not,” Hodding replied as though he had been anticipating the question. “If Captain Marsh will remain behind to sign the papers, you ladies may go.”

  Stuart raised his eyebrows at Hodding and silently wished him luck in trying to dismiss Jack’s mother and sister. Neither was easy to manage. He was just glad Jack’s widow had retreated to write angry letters to her father, her solicitor, her brother, her maiden aunt and perhaps Prinny himself, since according to Lucinda it was all the regent’s fault that Jack had been killed.

  “What would happen if I turned down this bequest?”

  Yes, he had been Jack’s great friend and would do anything in the world for the young son Jack left behind. But the bequest had provoked the three females in this household to hate Stuart. Surely there were better guardians to choose for this estate. That Stuart’s farmlands bordered Jack’s had not come into the decision as far as he could see. Knowing Jack, he had probably written up his will as some sort of joke, never expecting to die so young.

  “What candidate did you have in mind?” Hodding asked after an uncomfortable silence. “Is there an uncle or cousin I am unaware of?”

  While Stuart racked his memory for the names of those officious relatives who haunted Heatherfield every Christmas, Jack’s mother wept her way out of the room and Patience continued her frosty observation of him.

  “What is your uncle’s name, the cleric?”

  “Reverend William Mayhew,” she said as though talking to an idiot.

  “And where is he?”

  “At Weymouth. His vision is so bad he can barely count the money in the poor box, so he would be no good even if he were willing. Besides, he’ll never leave his congregation to live here. He isn’t even coming until Christmas Day, so he can be with them for Christmas Eve service.”

  “And the other one?”

  “Mother’s brother, Uncle Percy Muldoon, the black sheep of the family who wasted his portion within a fortnight of reaching London and who has been living on loans from Jack ever since? If it were up to me, I’d put a stop to that.”

  “I didn’t know that. Like me, Jack has been away almost three years. Who is still supporting Percy?” Stuart could see Patience struggling with herself over an admission she might not want to make. He hated that trapped look she had and wished he had not been the cause of her discomfort, especially in front of the solicitor.

  “Mother insists. He is her brother.”

  Hodding sighed and turned the papers around to face Stuart, as though Patience had made a case for Stuart being put in charge.

  “What if it were up to Miss Mayhew?” Stuart asked. “Why can’t she do this job since she apparently has been doing it while Jack was away?”

  “Because the heir is Lady Heatherfield’s son. If you refuse, the courts might award the running of the estate to a close male relative—her father or even her brother.”

  “Lucinda is already wringing every groat she can out of the estate. I’m lucky to be able to use some of the income to pay the servants and for food before she hoards the cash for Jamie’s education. If she were in charge, Mother and I would have to look for lodgings elsewhere and it wouldn’t be with Uncle Percy, because he would be on the streets in no time.”

  “Leave Heatherfield?” Stuart asked, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. He could not imagine Patience abandoning the home she loved so much.

  He had come back to ask her to marry him and she hadn’t the smallest inkling what was in his heart. Yet he could not speak at this moment or perhaps not even until her grief at her brother’s death had abated a little.

  “Lucinda and I do not get on.”

  Stuart nodded and reflected that so far as he could tell, Lucinda did not get on with anyone, but Patience was the only one he’d ever seen call the woman to book for her snide remarks.

  “Well?” Hodding asked.

  “I accept the charge.” Stuart reached for the pen Hodding passed to him.

  Patience got up and went to the door. “You know what everyone will say?”

  He stared at her, worried by her easy capitulation. “I have no idea.”

  “That you are one of Father’s natural sons and Jack is acknowledging you.”

  “What?” Stuart nearly slid out of his chair and spattered ink on the blotter.

  She exited then, leaving Stuart gasping but failing to shake Hodding’s composure.

  “Really, will they say that, and who is they?” Half the people in the district must know he’d always had a tendre for Patience. If he did not now make her a proposal they might indeed believe there was some such bizarre impediment. Her remark argued for marriage as early as possible, yet Stuart sensed Patience was in no humor for such a declaration.

  “No one to be concerned about.” Hodding pointed at the first place for Stuart to sign. “Any odd arrangement gives rise to gossip. This will was witnessed by two of his fellow officers so it is completely valid.”

  Stuart wrote his signature and drew the next paper toward himself. “They are both dead now.”

  “Fortunately you are not. Lord Heatherfield could not use you as a witness since you are to b
e the guardian, but he promised to tell you. Yet you seem surprised.”

  “He didn’t and I am. We were not always together on campaign. I never saw Jack after the date he signed that document.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “I have no choice but to sell out. I have been managing my place from afar but I doubt I will be able to do so with Heatherfield.”

  “I think not, sir. Someone must be at the helm. Miss Mayhew does a credible job with the books but she is thwarted at every turn.” Hodding folded up the documents and stuffed them in his portfolio. “If you need any advice, here is my direction.”

  “Thank you,” Stuart said as he numbly took the card.

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  Stuart looked around the office, wondering if he should make a start on the work, but Jack’s death was too much with him still, not to mention the demise of all the other friends he had lost. It did occur to him that he might have asked Hodding to stay to dinner but the solicitor’s escape-like exit meant he well knew how uncomfortable a meal it would be.

  * * * * *

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid Jack.” Patience punctuated her tirade by beating the sofa pillow in the morning room, where an anemic fire in the grate gave only meager warmth. “Why did you do it?”

  “Patience, how dare you say that about your poor dead brother?” Patience’s mother dabbed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her large frame sat erect in the chair by the fire, blocking the heat from getting farther into the room.

  “But he’s left us in the devil of a fix. We have disapproving Stuart now in control of our finances. You objected to that strongly yourself just a few minutes ago.”

  “Yes, it was a shock but then I recalled the struggle we have with Lucinda each time I want to send a penny to poor Percy or even buy essentials such as beeswax candles or good writing paper. Now that I think about it, Captain Marsh was always more sensible than Jack. He might be the very solution to our constant struggle. Not to mention he is rich in his own right. Recollect, his grandmother left him a small fortune besides what he makes with his estate.”

  “Why should that matter to us? We can’t expect Stuart to put our finances to rights.”

  “We can’t expect it but he will. I know him and he’s a dutiful boy. If he’s agreed to manage things then he will manage them well.”

  Her mother nodded with satisfaction as though she had just solved all their problems. The horrible truth was that Stuart would spend his ready on Heatherfield because of his loyalty to Jack.

  “Not all things like to be managed.” Patience hated being told what she must do. Bad enough Hodding kept giving her advice she could not follow. Now Stuart would be showing her how badly she had managed in Jack’s absence.

  Her mother ignored her implication. “And just imagine, he will have the running of the place for nearly twenty years. We might be quite prosperous by the time he hands over the reins to little James.”

  “We will not be prosperous. We’ll both be twenty years older when Lucinda shows us the door? Wonderful. I still think Jack went insane. To go off to war at all was ludicrous when we needed him here, and now to have to deal with Stuart.”

  “If I recall, you and Stuart used to be rather close. I always expected you would make a match of it.”

  Patience glared at her mother’s coy look, which ill became a person in mourning. “Well, we didn’t and we won’t.”

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that isn’t why Jack took this step, to throw you back together.”

  “To throw us together? You give Jack credit for far more plotting than he was ever capable of.”

  “Still, you will have to work with Stuart in close quarters to teach him the ropes. That could present an opportunity to get back in his good graces.”

  “Don’t expect anything to come of it. I washed my hands of Stuart three years ago when he went insane and followed Jack into the army.”

  “But what—”

  “Let it be, Mother. There can no longer be anything between Stuart and me.”

  Though she fled to her chamber with thoughts of Stuart’s blue eyes distracting her, she could never forgive him the red uniform.

  There had been a time when she’d hoped to marry Stuart, but a proposal from him now would be the worst act of charity he could perform. To be considered incompetent by everyone you knew was bad enough, but to be offered marriage as her only fate would underline her failure.

  * * * * *

  Stuart had looked through the account ledgers and other farm records before escaping the small office when no one was watching. He had thus dodged the prospect of dining with the three ladies, but that would only give them time to rail against him and build a case for his dismissal, which he fervently wished was possible. But he was by honor bound to do what he could, besides being legally stuck with the situation.

  After dining at home alone in the large room where the servants insisted on setting his supper, he finally settled himself before his own small library fire with a glass of brandy.

  “Will there be anything else, sir?” His butler’s almost military bow made Stuart smile at the aged but energetic retainer.

  “Not tonight, Newton. Tomorrow all hell breaks loose.”

  “You begin your guardianship of the Heatherfield estate.”

  Stuart turned his head and studied the graying man. “I do wish we’d had you on the intelligence staff in Spain. We might have had better information. Yes, and I do not plan anything in the way of company here this Christmas since all the Mayhew and Thurston relatives will be falling in on them. I want you and the staff to celebrate among yourselves this year as you have been doing. No reason this should affect you.”

  Newton snapped to attention. “We have been discussing it, sir, and we, some of us, would be willing to assist the Heatherfield staff through the holidays if you permit.”

  “Courage too, man. You realize you are flinging yourselves into a hornet’s nest?”

  “Yes sir, but there is always the possibility the family might behave better in front of strange staff than the old familiar and sorely overworked ones.”

  “Good thinking, Newton. Let me broach the subject with the Heatherfield ladies. I doubt free help will be turned away.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “And Newton, thank you all for staying on in my absence and for sacrificing your holiday to make this one merrier for those poor ladies.”

  “Cook is shocked they are to be burdened by guests at all, considering the news of Lord Heatherfield’s death being just brought home to them.”

  “I am as well, but the relatives take Christmas as a standing invitation and will descend like a horde of vultures whether the ladies and house are draped in black or not. I’m not sure how much of a celebration it will be but I plan to protect the Heatherfield larder and other assets as much as possible.”

  “Then I will have the staff here begin to prepare some victuals for Heatherfield.”

  “By all means. You would have made a great quartermaster as well.”

  “Very good, sir. Good night then.”

  Stuart nodded and took a sip of brandy. He’d spent so much of his time in Spain on his own, scouting the enemy, he never expected anyone to help him, and here he had staff who volunteered. He must give them all a nice bonus for Boxing Day. They were certainly going to earn it.

  Chapter Two

  Patience spent most of the night reliving those horrid days before Jack and Stuart had gone to Spain. In her dreams, she kept trying to invent a way to stop them. She thought she could have held Stuart here if she had tried harder, but Jack there was no dissuading.

  The arrival of a can of hot water and a cup of plain tea was almost a welcome relief when the black of night turned to the leaden sky of dawn.

  She dressed in her warmest gray wool gown and added a black shawl. She’d left orders for a fire to be laid in the office but doubted it would take the chill off the place before Stuart arrive
d. Though she had confidence in her figures, she was expecting the morning to be embarrassing. The money just seemed to flow away and leave them destitute but that was not her fault.

  What she hadn’t expected when she descended the stairs and went through the drawing room to the office was that Stuart would bring company. She knew John Wharton, Stuart’s farm manager, who had often stopped to warn her of some near disaster on this place. His son Terence, she had met and now had to accept as the new manager here, but could the estate afford him?

  “I just thought that this would be good training for Terence,” Stuart said.

  “So, it’s been decided,” Patience said. “There’s nothing left for me to do but ring for some tea.”

  Stuart pulled up a chair for Patience and motioned for the others to be seated around the same desk where the reading of the will had sealed her fate. “I’ll do that. We need you to sit down with them and explain the flow of finances for the farm. They both have better heads for figures than I do.”

  She was still gaping when Stuart exited but she pulled herself together and gave the two men a précis of their situation, showing them the sources of steady income and the holes in the dike of their finances that she had not been able to plug. Namely her mother and Lucinda. Somehow it was much easier to admit her inadequacies to these two men than to Stuart.

  The tea arrived and was drunk and Stuart went off to visit with her mother. At the end of the morning, the Whartons complimented her on both her economy and bookkeeping skills. They did agree that certain issues must be raised with the other ladies and the money saved set aside for repairs to the barn and cottages.

  She found herself so much relaxed and composed with them that she entertained a glimmer of hope. It was as though she had been fighting a lone battle and now had reinforcements, moreover ones who knew what they were doing.

  Did she always have to think in battle cant? She had picked it up from Jack’s letters and Stuart’s. They had written cheerfully of all their harrowing adventures and she had not been able to reply in kind, telling them rather the best of what happened at Heatherfield and trying to downplay the worst by giving the incidents a humorous cast.