The Legacy of Hope House

by Dilys Xavier

  Anna sat up on the bed and looked around in a daze. ‘Where am I?’ she murmured. ‘A moment ago I was with…’ She put her hand to her mouth when she realised where she was, and stared wide-eyed at her mother.

  ‘What did you say?’ Margaret looked surprised.

  Anna took a deep breath and relaxed against her pillow without saying another word. She took her mother’s hand in hers. ‘Nothing, Mum. It was a nasty dream. I’m getting a lot of them lately, but they fade quickly. I can’t even remember what this one was about now,’ she fibbed, blinking at her mother.

  ‘Having frightening dreams shows how disturbed you are. Usually it’s a weighty worry on the mind that causes them. Lie back comfortably now, and I’ll make you a nice cuppa.’ Margaret patted her hand. ‘Then you can stay here, or come down, whatever you choose.’ She walked over to the bedroom door, and turned around to face Anna. ‘You know, this is all too much for you. You’re overdone, so you’d better slow down or you’ll make yourself ill, and then what?’

  Then she walked back over to Anna, wagging her finger at her as she spoke firmly. ‘You know what my advice is. Like I’ve said all along, you must get rid of that place. It’s doing you no good, and watching you struggle and wearing yourself out worries me.’

  Anna wasn’t surprised at her mother’s reaction, but she had no wish to discuss the matter with her. She decided to sleep on it that night and make a decision in a few days. The financial situation was extremely worrying, and she acknowledged that Margaret was probably right, but she had no intention of making a snap decision, only to regret it later.

  Then an idea popped into her mind. Why not ask Quentin about the legal intricacies of the ancient will, and see what he thought would be a wise thing to do under the circumstances. Even though he was being nosey about her affairs, and hiding the fact that he was engaged, she felt sure he would advise her well, and maybe his charges would be low if he felt kindly; he was a solicitor, a friend now, and conveniently accessible any evening. She leaned back and relaxed, feeling more settled, and convinced that she would make the right decision, whatever it was.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Anna had her chance to speak with Quentin sooner than expected.

  ‘How’s it going?’ he asked, inclining his head, when he walked into the reception area that evening. ‘The business, I mean,’ he added, winking and smiling wickedly at the same time. He dropped with a grunt into one of the easy chairs set in the main hall for general use.

  ‘Slow. We’ve got a few more guests coming next week, but we could do with a lot more right now.’ Anna looked a little downcast. ‘I might have to consider doing evening meals sooner than I intended, but I don’t really fancy all that work, not yet.’ She sighed loudly, and sat in the chair next to him. ‘I’ve advertised the hotel all over the country, but it hasn’t done much for me, apart from lowering the bank balance, of course.’

  ‘Yes, advertising costs dearly,’ Quentin murmured, easing farther back in this chair as he lit one of his Coronas. He shrugged as he brandished it. ‘I haven’t managed to kick this yet.’ He looked pointedly at Anna then added, ‘but I must, and soon.’ Then he stabbed the air with the cigar at each word. ‘I don’t understand why you’ve turned this grand old house into something that’s going to give you a lot of hard work and worry. You must be crazy.’ He looked around and gesticulated. ‘Were this place mine, I’d have sold it immediately.’

  Anna grabbed her opportunity. ‘That’s the whole point. I can’t sell it.’

  Quentin jerked to an upright position in the chair. ‘What rubbish! Of course you can sell it; who’s to stop you?’ He leaned towards her. ‘It’s yours, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but Mr James explained that according to the conditions of the old will, it cannot be sold.’ Anna then proceeded to explain the whole situation to Quentin. ‘So I’m stuck with it, and now my money has been used up with repairs, and furniture.’ She touched Quentin gently on the arm, and looked appealingly into his eyes. ‘D’you think there could be a way out of this predicament?’ she asked. ‘Could there be a legal loophole that would allow me to sell?’

  ‘Tell you what,’ Quentin said, rising abruptly from the chair, ‘Since this was dealt with by our firm, I’ll look into it for you tomorrow, and if there’s a way out, rest assured, I’ll find it.’

  ‘I’d be so grateful if you’d do that,’ Anna said, total relief showing in her eyes. ‘I don’t want to sell something that’s been in the family for hundreds of years, but with no money left maybe I don’t have any option. A way out of this mess would be a blessing.’

  Quentin swaggered off across the hall and slowly climbed the stairs, but as he reached the top, he turned and called down. ‘Leave this with me, Anna. I’ll let you know something as soon as possible, so quit worrying now.’

  Anna felt relieved. She had wondered about how best to approach him, but it had been so easy. He wasn’t such a bad guy after all, and as for Liz saying he was spying on her, she must have got the wrong impression. Now she could calm down while she waited to see what he could find out. She hoped it wouldn’t be long; she didn’t have much time, with the bills mounting so fast.

  When Quentin returned after work the following evening, he sauntered over to Anna. ‘Er, got some news for you,’ he said, in a quiet voice. Anna turned to him with a smile, eager to hear what he had to say about the old will. He lifted his hand in caution. ‘Wait. It’s not what you want to hear, Anna. I really am so sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘I hadn’t seen this will before, but you’re right. You’re not able to sell this property under the conditions of the will. So if you can’t afford to run it, then my advice is to pull out before you sink farther into debt.’

  He sat on the chair in the hall again, and looked apologetic. ‘If you’ve no money left, it seems wise to pass the responsibility on to the The National Trust as soon as you can. That’s what I would do under the circumstances. They’ll look after it, otherwise it could quickly fall into a bad state of disrepair.’

  He rose to his feet and spread his hands as he turned to make for the staircase. ‘It’s a shame you can’t hold on to it. Couldn’t you borrow from the bank?’ He waited while she considered his suggestion.

  ‘Too risky; I can’t be sure I’d be able pay it back. If the place were doing well, yes, I’d borrow, but it’s hardly off the ground yet, so I dare not take that chance.’ She flopped onto a chair, tears welling in her eyes. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she sobbed, her misery getting the better of her.

  Quentin hurried to her side and wrapped his arms around her.

  ‘I don’t like to see you like this. Don’t let it get to you; it’s not worth getting so upset. If I had the money I’d offer to help.’ He rocked her in his arms. ‘Please yourself what you do, but I examined the will and there seems no way out. Get rid of this place, Anna. That’s my honest advice for what it’s worth.’

  ‘I’m ever so grateful to you for helping me,’ Anna said, ‘but I was afraid this was what you’d say.’ She pondered for a moment and then positioned herself behind the desk and opening the guest register to take her mind off the problem. ‘What do I owe you for this, Quentin?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, waving the question aside. ‘I wouldn’t dream of adding another bill to the ones you already have. But I urge you to think over what I’ve said.’ He leaned across the desk and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. ‘I wish I were the bearer of better news,’ he said, lifting her chin.

  Feeling totally devastated, Anna breathed deeply to gain control over her troubling thoughts. Her ambitious dreams were in shatters. Not only that, even the money she had inherited had all gone into the house now, so that was a total loss as well. Suddenly, her temples began to thump and her stomach felt nauseous. Heavy tears dropped from her eyes onto the guest book that lay in front of her on the desk. But she was too distraught to give vent to her feelings and have a good cry. Her throat was dry, her head ached, and all she wanted to do now w
as run; run as far away as she could from this disaster zone.

  That’s wishful thinking, she thought, well aware she had to face up to the rest of the evening somehow.

  ‘What else could I do to help?’ Quentin asked, looking concerned as he took both her hands in his. ‘Ah, I know.’ He went off in a hurry to the kitchen, and returned with a tray of crushed ice cubes in one hand and a white table napkin in the other. He wrapped some ice into the middle of the napkin, folded it neatly over, and tied it around her forehead. Then he sat down beside her, and stroked her hand to help her relax while the ice eased the pain.

  It worked, and as soon as she looked more comfortable, he stood up. ‘Better now?’ he queried in a whisper as he straightened up. ‘Now I’ll make you a nice cup of tea before going up to my room, but if you need any more help, give me a shout.’

  Within minutes, Quentin placed a mug of steaming hot tea on the desk with the order, ‘Drink that now and try to relax.’

  She watched him climb the stairs, grateful he had been there for her. Whatever she did with Hope House, she hoped it would be the right thing.

  For the next couple of days, she continued to feel sick inside and desperately miserable, not even daring to think about the situation, let alone discuss it with anyone. She decided to make as few visits home as possible looking as miserable as she was, for she wanted no probing questions from Margaret. She decided that if someone phoned for a chat, or wanted to pay a friendly visit, she would put them off with an excuse until she felt better.

  Even though some of the scenes in her dreams were terrifying, life seemed so much more pleasant in that make-believe world, and the colonel had figured in them, making her feel she had someone she could turn to. With family history so much on my mind, my dreams are bound to be linked to the past, she thought.

  It was quiet today, so she wandered into the library to take a look at another journal. This one was dated 1798, the year the colonel had left Jamaica to come to Wales and build this lovely house. Anna wondered why the will stated she could not sell. The reason for such a stipulation evaded her, but there it was, and by law it had to be obeyed. She felt weary with worry and closed her eyes.

  Within minutes she was dreaming again and asking the colonel for answers. ‘The will you made stops me from selling this house,’ she said quietly. ‘I love it and I don’t want to lose it, but I have no money left to continue and I’m afraid I’ll have to gift it to The National Trust, according to the will. At least, that’s what the young lawyer who’s staying here told me.’

  ‘That’s my will you’re talking about? Oh dearie me, I never realised how much of a problem it would cause.’ The colonel pulled at his beard. ‘I wrote my will that way to protect the place from my brother’s greedy sons and their sons’ sons.’ Then he swung around. ‘I thought you would be well endowed, sitting on a fortune, like myself.’ He stroked his chin thoughtfully. ’Tell me this lawyer’s name.’

  ‘Quentin Hale. He’s only here for the time being, and works for Mr James, one of the solicitors in town.’

  ‘Ah, now that name sounds familiar to me. I think it was used several times in the family – or a name like it. Let me think on it. No, the name I recall is Quintus, an ancient Roman name. Maybe Quentin is derived from it.’

  Anna’s eyes suddenly snapped open and the dream faded, but not before she had scribbled down what Papa had said. She stared around; it was time now for her guests to come in after a day at work, when Liz surprised her by popping her head around the library door.

  ‘You look happier than when I saw you last,’ she commented. ‘You’re in a better mood; what’s made the difference?’

  She escorted Liz to the warm kitchen, where they both sat down with a coffee while she tried to recall the short dream she’d just had.

  ‘This name… Quentin… what if?’ She stopped and stared at Liz. ‘Surely, what I’m thinking isn’t possible?’ She took Liz by the arm and went back to the desk where she hurriedly tapped into the Internet for the origin of the name. And there it was, Quentin, a French derivation of the Roman name Quintus; a name that was introduced to England by the Normans. ‘And apparently there was a 3rd century saint named Quintus. In fact, there are several names derived from it.’ Anna’s expression was one of disbelief as she stared at Liz.

  ‘Anything’s possible,’ Liz retorted; ‘we must investigate somehow.’

  ‘I dare to think…what if Quentin Hale is a distant descendant like myself, but from one of the colonel’s brothers? That the name was popular early in the family is stuck in my head. I’m sure I dreamt it was.’

  Liz’s jaw dropped. ‘You don’t say? Well, if it’s true that the name was in the family you could be right. There may be something fishy going on, but you can’t outright accuse someone if you have no proof, can you? And certainly not on a suggestion in a dream. Come on, Anna, get real.’ She pondered for a few seconds. ‘Look, it’s still quite a popular name today, so you can’t rely on that being the answer. I’d forget that angle and concentrate on something else.’

  Liz had arranged to have dinner at the hotel that evening with Anna, and then stay over for a couple of days, but what Anna had just told her had made her inquisitive, and she vowed to investigate at work with the help of Greg. ‘If I see or hear of anything suspicious I’ll tell you straight away.’ Liz went off to work before Anna was up next day, and primed Greg about the problem.

  ‘I’ll try to sneak a look around for anything that might help,’ he promised, ‘so wait until you hear from me.’

  By the time David turned up next morning, Anna was more in control. ‘I’ve brought the new boiler and radiators with me, and I’ll get everything ready so that I can do this job with the minimum of inconvenience to your guests.’ He gave full instructions to his team, and told them to start on the work immediately. Although the old boiler had given no more trouble, Anna breathed a sigh of relief to know the job was in hand.

  It was then she decided to tell David about the devastating news Quentin had given her. She called him over to the desk, and explained everything while his men started the work.

  ‘You don’t have to listen to what he says,’ David said. ‘If I were you, I’d get a second legal opinion.’ For several moments, he gazed through the window, thinking. ‘Yes, in contrast, my advice would be to keep the place if you can. What Hale has advised doesn’t make sense to me; you’ve too much to lose in doing that now you’ve spent so much on it.’

  He ran his fingers over his jaw. ‘See, Anna, the going might be tough to start with, but most new businesses are like that. I think your rewards will come later. Letting it go at this stage means you’ll lose everything, and there’s no rhyme or reason in doing that.’ He took a deep breath. 'Keep it. Stick with it and make it work.’

  ‘There’s more,’ Anna said, launching into the story about Quentin being a popular family name in the past.

  ‘Now that would be worth investigating,’ David said. ‘Let’s hope Greg can discover something helpful.’

  ‘Yes, I think he’s going to sneak a look at the book he spotted in the solicitor’s office and see if there’s anything else lying around that may help. And maybe he can eavesdrop on Quentin to see why he seems so willing for me to gift my inheritance to the Trust.’

  ‘Good. He has your interests at heart, and I’m sure he’s in the best position to sort this out, especially since he’s on the spot to see all that’s going on.’ David hitched his pants up. ‘Right, I’m going to check how the work is progressing now, so I need keys to the rooms upstairs; got them handy?’ Only minutes later he called Anna. ‘Hey, got something to show you. Come up here.’

  Anna went up the staircase two at a time, and reached the top just as David disappeared back into Quentin Hale’s bedroom. When she entered the room, he was standing by the writing table provided in each bedroom for the use of guests. He pointed to a notepad on the top of it.

  ‘David, we shouldn’t be nosing around in here,’ Anna
said, looking uncomfortable as she crossed the room. ‘Whatever that is, it’s none of our business. Come away; you shouldn’t be sneaking around in here.’

  ‘I go where I need, to check on the heating,’ David replied curtly. ‘Anyway, I thought you wanted to know if this man is up to any tricks,’ he said, stabbing his finger on the notebook. ‘And by the look of that, he is.’ I peeped inside, and found a note jotted on his pad that says:

  ‘The Last Will and Testament of Colonel Thomas Williams, 1798. Jamaica Archives, Spanish Town’.

  ‘Now that’s bound to be of significance. Why should he be bothered enough about that old will to make a note of it? Why should it be of interest to him?’

  ‘Probably because I asked him to see if there’s a legal loophole that could help me out of this predicament. He’d need to study a copy of the will to see what the limitations are, so I expect that’s why it’s here,’ Anna said, as she hurriedly ushered him out through the door.

  ‘I thought you wanted help, so why dismiss this so easily?’ he persisted, repeating how suspicious it was to find the note Quentin had made.

  ‘Yes, I want help, David, but not this way. I’m not going to pry into anyone’s private correspondence. If this were his office, then maybe that would be a bit different… not quite so personal, and anyway, and perhaps we’d find more there.’ She gave him a long hard stare. ‘Let’s leave it to Greg.’ Two minutes after she’d gone into the library again, she reappeared at the door, vigorously waving her arms. ‘Got it,’ she said excitedly. ‘Now I know. And you’d never guess what.’

  David hurried across the hall.

  ‘Follow me,’ Anna said, as she hurried into the library. ‘Come in and look at what I’ve just realised; something I haven’t noticed about this portrait before.’