by Anne O'Brien
‘I asked you to join us because Hedges has some information that is most pertinent to you. Come and sit here and he will explain all.’ Although his words were light, Frances thought his face was surprisingly stern as he moved from his seat at the desk to allow Frances to take his place.
‘Is it the inheritance?’
‘Yes, my lady.’ Hedges nodded in acknowledgement and began to shuffle a stack of papers before him.
‘So you managed to squeeze the details out of my uncle at last.’
‘It has taken no little time, but the whole transfer of business is now complete. Here are the terms of your mother’s will.’ His tone was grave and he glanced briefly at Aldeborough before he began, spreading out the documents before him. ‘I won’t trouble you with all the finer points …’ he hesitated ‘… much of it is in legal terms, which you do not need, but the main gist is very straightforward. On your twenty-first birthday, you will inherit the sum of £30,000. It is invested in bonds and shares and the interest will come directly to you, payable half-yearly, if that is acceptable. It is to be in your ladyship’s gift entirely to settle as you should wish for the future. It has been the tradition for it to be settled on the female line of the family, to allow the daughters of the family considerable independence in their own right, as you will be aware since your mother, Lady Cecilia Mortimer, settled it on you, her only daughter.’
For a moment there was silence in the library. Then, ‘So much money?’ whispered Frances, hardly able to comprehend Hedges’s clear statement of the facts. ‘I can hardly believe it. My uncle gave me to understand that the sum was very little, nothing more than pin money—I am sure they were his exact words. Why would he do that?’
‘I cannot answer for your uncle,’ replied Hedges placidly, well used to irrational behaviour from his clients when large sums of money were involved. ‘Whatever was said, my lady, it is a vast sum. You are a wealthy woman in your own right and it gives me great pleasure to inform you of it.’
She looked across at Aldeborough. He had remained silent as Hedges told her of the inheritance, leaning with one arm along the mantelpiece, looking down into the cold fireplace. Now he raised his head. She had been right about the frown, the unease. But again it was quickly banished.
‘You have little to say, my lady.’ Hedges’s smile held a hint of amusement. ‘I find that even more amazing than the amount of pin money which is now yours to spend on whatever fripperies you desire.’
‘Forgive me.’ She laughed. ‘I cannot think at all rationally at the moment. Thank you for the information, Mr Hedges. I did not mean to seem discourteous.’
He smiled. ‘I quite understand, my lady. It is not an uncommon response.’
Aldeborough, realising that something was expected of him, walked across the room to raise her hand to his lips. ‘I am delighted for you, my dear.’
Then why did she get the impression that he was not? That there was some problem of which she was not aware? She rose to her feet, chiding herself for her suspicions. Aldeborough’s preoccupation was far more likely to be tied up with his own inheritance, not hers. She banished her anxiety with a smile at Hedges and her husband.
‘If you will excuse me, I’ll leave you to your dusty documents. I need a little time to … to think about all this. I shall take a walk in the garden to collect my thoughts a little!’
‘Of course.’
‘I am pleased to have met you, Mr Hedges.’ She walked from the library as if in a dream.
Aldeborough seated himself once again in his chair, facing Hedges across the desk, a thoughtful expression returning to his face.
‘I should express my thanks that you were willing to keep silent about the specific clause. I do not know if you consider it unethical, but I believe that it might be in my wife’s best interests in the short term.’
‘Have you some concern about it?’
‘Yes, I have. I would rather not discuss it with my wife until a few matters have been clarified. I would prefer it to remain between ourselves.’
‘It is certainly a most unusual clause,’ Hedges agreed.
‘Can I challenge it through the courts?’
‘I doubt you would have much success. It has now stood for a number of generations.’
‘I am afraid I have to agree with you.’ Aldeborough picked up a quill pen and idly twirled it in his fingers. ‘And there is certainly no ambiguity in the clause.’
‘True. It is very clear in its implications. If your wife dies, or if she is childless by the time she reaches the age of twenty-five, thus leaving no issue to whom her inheritance can be willed, the money will revert to the care and jurisdiction of her father. And since Adam Hanwell is deceased, to her father’s family, the Hanwells. And thus to Viscount Torrington, your wife’s uncle and erstwhile guardian. To be used as he sees fit.’
‘But why not to her husband? Surely that would be far more usual.’
‘It is unclear. I believe it must have stemmed from the personal circumstances of a Mortimer bride in the sixteenth century—the Welsh Marches bred them, I believe, a troubled place with the need for advantageous marriages in border disputes with Welsh raiders. I presume that marriages were made purely for their financial and military advantage and if an unfortunate bride mysteriously disappeared or was even murdered by a reluctant husband, once he had his hands on her dowry, then such a clause would safeguard her life or at least the chance of issue from her. On the face of it, it seems very simple: no wife—no children—no money. But whatever the reason, that is how it stands. It is, indeed, a vast sum of money. Can I presume that you will inform your wife at a suitable time, my lord?’
‘Of course.’
‘If I may be so bold, my lord, I do not foresee a problem,’ Hedges stated in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Her ladyship looks to be in excellent health. And I am sure that your own wish will be to produce an heir to your own estates and title as soon as may be. In that circumstance, this clause will be completely null and void.’
‘Indeed.’ Aldeborough agreed yet still seemed preoccupied.
‘You can be sure of my discretion in these matters,’ Hedges assured him.
‘I know.’ Aldeborough roused himself from his distraction and smiled ruefully at Hedges. ‘Forgive me. It has given me much to think about. I would thank you for your efforts on behalf of my wife. I can guess that working with Torrington was not easy.’
‘I am always pleased to be of service, as I was to your brother and father. If I might say, my lord, it is a pleasure to do business with one so concerned for the future of the estate. And now, if that is all, my lord, I will take my leave of you.’
Hedges’s departure left Aldeborough with considerable food for thought, none of it palatable. Whose life was being put into danger? Was it his, as he had first thought? Or was it Frances? The accident—or more accurately the murder attempt—at the Chinese Bridge began to take on an even more sinister quality. For now, it was his choice not to tell Frances but he must, at all costs, keep a close watch on her movements. She must certainly not be allowed to ride about the estate unaccompanied. And when they returned to London … Well, he would meet that problem when it arose. It was outrageous that Torrington should continue to have such a long reach to affect Frances even after her marriage and her escape from his grasping clutches. Aldeborough shrugged off the sense of helplessness that threatened to darken his mood. They would have to live with the terms of the will, but he would ensure that she remained in ignorance of the potential danger and so continue to enjoy her new-found peace of mind.
Deep in thought, Frances found her inclination leading her into the herb garden. The warm sunshine was beginning to stir the fragrances that would fill the intimate walled area with heady pleasure in summer. She had much to think about, so the peaceful seclusion suited her mood and she knew she was unlikely to be disturbed. She was an heiress! Her inheritance was not merely an easy competence, but a fortune beyond her dreams. And hers to settle in the futur
e as she wished. She had much for which to thank her unknown mother and previous strong-minded Mortimer ladies. She sat and watched the first bees begin to investigate the growing lavender spikes, unable to quite accept the facts of her new wealth. But one fact was startlingly clear. Viscount Torrington had lied and deceived her, giving her to understand that she would always be dependent on him for her welfare. And that, she concluded with simple and unassailable logic, was the reason why he had been so assiduous in planning a marriage between herself and his heir Charles. Many things began to fall into place for her as surely as the pieces in a mosaic.
It explained, she realised, why her uncle had been so angry over her marriage, sending Aunt Cordelia to fetch her back to Torrington Hall, determined to take her home from London, angry enough to threaten Aldeborough. Her fortune would have solved all Torrington’s financial difficulties overnight. Paid off the mortgages, the gambling debts, put money back into the failing estate land. What a valuable asset she had been without even knowing it. And now it was lost to him and Charles. She had been used and manipulated by the only family she had known—and they had lost everything on the night Torrington’s vicious conduct had finally driven her to escape in Aldeborough’s coach.
And she had Aldeborough to thank for her rescue. A sensation of warmth and gratitude spread round her heart, her lips curving into a smile—to be instantly checked as if a door had slammed in her mind. An icy hand gripped her throat, her blood running cold. Aldeborough had taken her and married her, but at what cost? She forced herself to sit, gripping the edge of the stone seat with rigid fingers, and think calmly. Was this the explanation for the highwaymen? To kill Aldeborough and leave her a vulnerable widow? Surely it was too cold blooded, even for Torrington. But if Aldeborough had died, then she would be freed from this marriage, and what would be more natural than for a young widow to return to the protection of her family? And that would put her back into their control. And her money. It could not be! But why not? What would be better, after a suitable period of mourning, of course, than a second advantageous marriage to her cousin, who would be delighted to manage her affairs for her. The pieces fitted seamlessly together. The highwaymen had been paid off to kill Aldeborough, and Viscount Torrington would reap the benefits.
She sprang to her feet. Hugh! She must tell him. Warn him. She could not grasp the enormity of it that her marriage should have put his life in danger. And she was the cause. She had reached the wrought-iron gate in the wall when she heard footsteps approaching through the laurel shrubbery. Her heart lifted. It would be Hugh coming to find her. She could explain her fears to him.
It was not Aldeborough. Charles emerged from the laurels, treading purposefully towards the house, approaching from the stables. He saw her immediately, lifted a hand in greeting and changed his direction. Frances retreated back into the herb garden as Charles joined her, gathering her composure round her like a cloak, banking down the sudden spurt of anger that leapt through her blood.
‘Good morning, Charles. I am surprised to see you here again so soon. Morning visits seem to be becoming a habit. I do not think that Aldeborough would encourage too close an acquaintance, all things considered.’ She was coolly polite, successfully masking her anger and resentment, even though her fingers shredded a tuft of lavender stalks as she spoke.
Charles was unaware. His face lit with pleasure at the sight of her and his smile held great charm. ‘But Aldeborough does not know that I am here. And besides, I came to see you. I was sure that you would not object. You look well.’ He bowed over her hand with a graceful flourish.
‘Why are you here, Charles?’
‘To enquire after your well being, of course.’ A shadow of concern crossed his face and he increased the pressure on the hand that he had kept under his control. ‘We heard about your accident at the bridge. But I see that you have recovered, so I have no need to be concerned for your health on this occasion.’ He paused and allowed Frances to snatch her hand away. ‘If I might presume … it could have been far more serious, as I’m sure you realise. I am surprised that Aldeborough did not warn you of the storm damage. Did he not know?’
‘Yes, he knew. But only after I had taken Beeswing to ride across the estate. And he was not to know where I would ride. What are you suggesting, Charles?’ Her chilly tones were at variance with the spring warmth of the garden around them.
‘Why, nothing, dear Frances. You are very trusting.’
‘Why should I not be?’
‘Why not, indeed? Of course, your relationship with your husband is your own affair. But my advice would be to take care. You are, after all, an heiress to a considerable fortune.’
‘As I am sure you are aware. And have been for ever. It surprises me that I was the last person to know that I am worth something in excess of £30,000 a year. Why do you think that was, Charles?’
His expression took on a hint of wariness, but he continued to smile and answered easily with a shake of his head, ‘I am delighted for you, Frances. I felt that I had to come to congratulate you.’
‘Why did my uncle lie to me?’ Frances persisted. ‘Why did he lead me to believe that I would come into a small competence that would never be enough to give me independence or attract an advantageous marriage?’
‘I was not conversant with my father’s business dealings with you,’ he answered with an expression of relaxed confidence on his face. ‘Perhaps you misunderstood him. Why should you have worried about financial matters? As your guardian, my father would have seen it as his duty to take all such burdens from you. You cannot blame him for that.’
‘I was not treated as an heiress.’ Anger licked at her skin as the memories surfaced. ‘I was not presented, I was not given a Season in London, I was not allowed to take my rightful place in society. I was treated as a poor relation—indeed, no better than a servant in my aunt’s kitchen—with no consideration for my wishes or my happiness. And as for—’ She pressed a hand to her lips and strove for control. She would not say more.
‘Frances, I am so sorry that you should feel this way.’
‘And could my inheritance have had anything to do with the proposed marriage between you and me?’
‘How can you value yourself so little? I have always admired you.’
‘I find it difficult to believe. I find it easier to believe that I and my inheritance would have been safely and quietly married off to you, with no one the wiser. It is well known that my uncle’s finances are in dire straits.’
‘Would you believe me if I told you I love you? You have become so beautiful, so elegant. How could I not love you?’
‘No!’
‘But I do. I always have.’
‘So why have you never spoken of it before now? Why did you never show me any such affection? Why did you never snatch the whip from your father’s hand? How dare you talk to me of love?’
‘I thought you knew of my regard. It was always understood that we would marry when you had reached your majority. It is entirely my own fault if I did not make my feelings clear. All I can ask is that you will forgive me.’ It was so smooth, so reasonable, and yet Frances knew in her heart that his words were empty and insincere.
‘It no longer matters, does it?’
‘Come away with me.’ Lines of frustration were etched around his mouth and he attempted to seize her hands, but once more she thwarted him and stepped back. ‘I will always love you.’
‘No. I don’t believe you. What nonsense is this? I am married—what can you possibly be suggesting?’
‘Are you hoping to find love in your marriage?’ Charles saw his chance, an opportunity to take advantage of her insecurity. He continued, his tone persuasive, sowing seeds of a bitter harvest. ‘Aldeborough does not care for you. He never wanted it. He only married you to stop the scandal that he had ruined you after all—for himself, not for you. It is well known that he keeps a mistress in London. And he would marry Penelope Vowchurch if he had his way. He always intended
to. He will never give you the love and admiration that I feel for you. Come away with me.’ There was more than a hint of desperation in his voice. An urgency. ‘Aldeborough will agree to a divorce quickly enough if you threaten to cause a scandal and drag their family name through the mire. And I will marry you.’
‘Thank you, dear Charles.’ Frances faced him with deliberate and heavy sarcasm. ‘You will be kind enough to rescue me from a scandal of my own making. You cannot imagine my gratitude. And Aldeborough is to be sufficiently co-operative to divorce me. I see you have it all planned. And you, of course, will be richer than you could ever have dreamed.’
The smile disappeared from Charles’s face and a harsh note of injustice crept into his smooth voice. ‘My father was stupid beyond belief to allow you to escape his authority. It has ruined the family.’ He fought for control, turning away from Frances to pace the path between the scented rosemary and sage. He succeeded in calming his breathing and returned to her, his face smoothed of his anger and frustration. His words were calm, reasonable even. ‘But you could redeem it. You owe us at least that.’
‘I owe you nothing. I think you should leave. There is nothing for you here.’
She made to turn away, not wanting to hear more of his smooth excuses or empty declarations of love, but his reaction to her words held no hint of the lover. His lips curved unpleasantly into a sneer and his eyes narrowed. He caught her wrist in a rough grasp, ignoring her cry of discomfort, refusing to release her.
‘I see. I should have realised. The lure of status and a fortune even larger than your own is very strong. I had not thought it of you, Frances. Presumably you are not willing to forfeit your title—it means far more to you than the gift of genuine love.’
