HAMMER (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 16)

by Samantha Leal

  Lewis shuffled the papers and was about to open the formal proceedings when an almighty crash in the second row of seats disturbed the silence. Mrs. Hudson had fainted and lay sprawled out across the floor. Mr. Stephens stepped quickly to her side and began to fan her with a handkerchief as she quickly came back round to consciousness.

  The poor woman had not been well since the death of Lord Montgomery and the whole affair had hit her hard. Her face was pale as she dabbed at her eyes with Stephens’ large white handkerchief, and although she insisted that she was quite alright, remained looking quite dazed and staring into her lap. Mr. Lewis poured a glass of water from the jug on his table and passed it to Edward to hand to Mrs. Hudson. When all were finally seated once again, Lewis shuffled his papers and flicked a paper knife under the wax seal on the envelope before him, removing several sheets of paper. Lowering his gaze, he read the contents in silence.

  “For god’s sake man, can we get on with the proceedings? There is no use in making a song and dance about the whole thing, just get on with it and read out the damned will!”

  The ladies present raised an eyebrow, and the mouth of Lewis twitched in silent agitation as he licked his lips in anticipation before starting to read aloud.

  “I testify that this is the last will and testament of Lord Charles Arthur Montgomery, made on the fifth day of the month of June in the year of our Lord Eighteen hundred and seventy-two....”

  Christabel held her breath as he spoke. Eighteen hundred and seventy-two was five years ago. Charles had promised that he was going to change his will once they were married, to ensure that she would be provided for in case anything should happen to him. He had obviously not expected to die within two months of their marriage and thought that he had plenty of time to make any necessary amendments in her favor.

  What came as a shock to Christabel was a relief to Edward and Anne, and she could almost see the smirk on both of their faces as they silently anticipated throwing the young interloper out of the house.

  “To my faithful servant, Mr. George Stephens, I leave the sum of two hundred pounds, and to my loyal housekeeper, Mrs. Pearl Hudson, I also leave the sum of two hundred pounds.”

  Mrs. Hudson looked as she would faint again and dabbed at her eyes as Stephens lowered his head. It was more money than both could have ever hoped for and would help them in their retirement.

  “To my cousin, Mr. Arthur Chadwick, I leave the sum of three hundred pounds.” The man coughed politely and Christabel wondered if he was pleased or not.

  “I doubt that will cover his gambling debts,” Edward added.

  Arthur shuffled in his seat and gave nothing away, his face poker straight and white.

  “To my brother Mr. Edward Montgomery...” Lewis paused for effect.

  “Well go on man!” Anne placed her hand on her husband’s knee to silence him.

  “To my brother, Mr. Edward Montgomery, I leave the sum of one thousand pounds, my father’s gold watch and chain, and ...”

  “One thousand pounds and a gold watch and chain, what are you talking about man; have you lost your senses?”

  “And to my son, Mr. Andrew Peter Crawley, my rightful heir, the remains of my estate including all land, properties, and associated assets.”

  There was a collective intake of breath as Mr. Lewis spoke the words and the young man lifted his head slightly, his back and shoulders stiffening. Only the ticking clock disturbed the silence. Edward stood for a moment unable to move as Anne looked at him in horror. Christabel wondered if he was having a heart attack, his eyes bulging with inner rage.

  “My son, my son! What on earth are you talking about man? My brother had no son-you are talking gibberish. Let me see those papers!” Snatching the document from the old man’s hands, Edward scanned the words, breathing heavily under the dark suit. “You, sir, are an imposter and a fraud” He pointed wildly at the young man, the papers dropping to the floor around his feet.

  “Lewis, what is the meaning of this? Why did you let my brother sign such a document, if in fact it is his signature? Was he out of his wits?” Stooping to pick up the sheets he slammed them back onto the green leather of the desk. The old man remained calm.

  “Mr. Montgomery, I can assure you that the late Lord Charles was fully compos mentis when he made this will and that his desire was for his estate to be passed to his son.”

  “But he has no son man! This man must have had some sort of hold over Charles, it’s obvious.”

  The young man rose to leave. “Where do you think you are going man? I think you have some explaining to do! This is a farce Mr. Lewis. Charles’ estate belongs to me!”

  The old man shook his head. “I’m afraid not Edward, but you do have one thousand pounds and a gold watch.”

  Turning to face Arthur Chadwick, Edward reached across the seats and pulled the man up by the collar. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had something to do with this Chadwick. Was it you? Did you put this man up to it? Are you taking a greater share in Charles’ estate?”

  The poor man looked on in fright as Edward dropped him back into his seat. Edward demanded an explanation, but the young man bowed his head towards them and left the room quickly before Edward could compose himself.

  With threats of legal action and a contest of the will, Edward and Anne left in a sudden flurry of black silk, her face as white and pale as her husband’s was dark and thundery.

  Arthur Chadwick was the next to leave. Rising from his seat he placed a hand on Christabel’s shoulder. “If there is anything I can do...” His concern for once appeared genuine, but she did not look him in the eye.

  “Lady Montgomery does not need your help.” Englebert removed the stray hand from her shoulder. “I have been her trusted guardian for these last five years and I will continue to remain so.”

  The two men continued to argue for a while whilst Christabel sat numb and deaf to her surroundings. All she had to live on was the small allowance from her late father’s estate and the money from the sale of his house. That and the good will of Englebert. The money would stop in a couple of year’s time and then she would be totally reliant upon him.

  Stephens and Mrs. Hudson sat in silence; they had plenty to say to each other but had to hold their tongues. They rose together and made their excuses. They needed to get back to the house as soon as possible and stated that they would walk; the fresh air would do them both good. Besides, once outside they would be free to gossip.

  Tugging gently on her arm, Englebert pulled Christabel to her feet. “Come my dear, I will take you home. We can discuss what can be done then. Lewis this is a ridiculous situation, is there anything that we can do?”

  The old man smiled sadly. He had witnessed every emotion known to man at the reading of a will and nothing came as a surprise to him. He felt desperately sorry for the young widow. Charles had mentioned changing the will, he was to have done so on his return from the fateful business trip and to make at least some provision for Christabel should anything happen. Now it was too late; well almost.

  Wiping his glasses on a handkerchief he sighed. “Of course, the family can contest the will; they always have that option. I am sure that Edward will not let things rest as they are. But it is a lengthy and costly process and there are no guarantees. It would be difficult to prove that Mr. Crawley was not, in fact, the son and heir of the late Charles. I have seen the birth certificate and have kept the secret, in confidence, for the past twenty-four years. It might be worth talking to Andrew Crawley – maybe some arrangement can be made for Lady Montgomery; she is after all his step-mother by law?”

  The words shocked Christabel and she leaned further on the arm of Englebert for support. The young man, the one who had caused her to blush in the church; the man she had fantasized about naked could be her step-son? The idea was too farfetched to contemplate. If only Charles had been up front with her about this matter, she wouldn’t have minded. To find out like this was too great a shock.

 
; “What do we do now? Should we return to the house? Has Christabel still a right to live there?”

  Lewis suppressed a yawn. He was getting too old for all of this. Perhaps it was time to retire? Families with their secrets and petty squabbles; he had seen enough. “It will take weeks before all the paperwork has been completed and ownership transferred to Mr. Crawley. If there is a contest of the will, then it will take longer. I suggest that you carry on as normally as would allow. I will speak to Andrew Crawley myself about his plans and see what can be done for Lady Montgomery. Now I’m afraid I must leave, I have another appointment to attend to.” It was a lunch appointment with his son and he needed good food and wine after such a stressful morning.

  Back in the carriage Englebert sat close with his arm around her shoulder, pretending to be fatherly; yet his rapid breathing gave him away. He was aroused by her closeness. Christabel felt numb and incapable of any feeling or speech and lay back against his arm feeling his hard fingers pressing against her. At that moment she did not care what he did; her life was in pieces and she was an easy target for all of the predators around her.

  ***

  Without the safety net of Mrs Hudson and Stephens around, Englebert felt emboldened. Christabel was homeless and penniless. The young ward had been the subject of his lust and fantasy for years and now she was practically his. His cock was already stiff within his trousers and his hand slipped up to her breast. At first her body stiffened, it was after all the hand of Englebert Williams, but as he squeezed and fondled her in the confines of the carriage, she started to feel strangely aroused. Feeling her nipples start to respond and harden beneath his touch the older man felt encouraged. She closed her eyes and imagined Mr Crawley’s face before her.

  "My poor Christabel. You don't need to worry about a thing. You are safe with me. Now how about a little kiss for your guardian?" Reaching across he straddled her with his leg, pushing his groin against her, his face red and close; lips wet and open.

  His mouth was upon hers; greedy and slippery. It was not like the kiss of Charles; it was firm and demanding and she felt a little repulsed by the wetness of his mouth; his soft tongue slobbering against her own. His hand was upon her skirts, reaching up towards the top of her stocking and towards the flesh of her exposed inner thigh. Grinding his crotch against her leg, he let out a low moan as he quickly reached his climax and almost immediately pulled away from her. Flopping back into the carriage seat he sprawled, red faced and sweating; all his sexual cravings spent.

  Luckily the drive home was short and a kiss and fondle were all that he had time for. Still, the experience had left her a little breathless and had done nothing to ease her desire, even if it was just Englebert.

  “Now my dear, this morning has been a shock to you. I suggest you go and lie down to rest for a few hours and then you will feel a little better. I will wait in the house for you and perhaps we can take dinner together a little later to discuss our plans?”

  Christabel flinched at the emphasis on ‘our’ plans. She needed time on her own, time to think, and all of this was impossible with Englebert constantly whispering in her ear. “Don’t come in Englebert, I will be fine. I don’t want anything more disturbing today. Go home, and perhaps we can talk later in the week. I just want some time on my own.”

  Englebert shrugged and removed his arm, in a few weeks she would have nowhere else to go and would depend entirely upon him. He could afford to wait. “Not a problem, my dear, but I will call on you tomorrow to see how you are doing. Do not worry and try to rest. I will look after you.”

  Kissing her hand, he helped her out of the carriage, his hand patting her bottom as she navigated the steps to the stones, and he continued to watch until she was safely inside. She looked so young and beautiful, so vulnerable. Soon she would be all his!

  ***

  Hannah greeted her young mistress in the hallway, and as soon as the front door was closed Christabel burst into tears. The two women headed quickly upstairs to the safety of her bedroom and out of earshot of the servants; although they would soon hear of her plight and all of the gossip when Stephens and Hudson returned.

  “Oh Hannah; what am I going to do? Even Mrs. Hudson will have more money than I shall. Englebert is coming to see me tomorrow and shall ask for my hand, I know he shall! And I won’t be in a position to refuse.” Christabel sobbed gently on the bed whilst Hannah cradled the poor girl in her arms.

  “There must be another way my love; something will happen. If Mr. Williams does propose marriage then you will have to tell him it is too soon after Charles’s death, that you are still grieving. That will put him off for a while; at least to give you time to think.”

  “But I have no other options Hannah. This Mr. Crawley has dashed any hopes that I might have had.”

  “What is he like?” Hannah’s question was innocent but caused Christabel to blush.

  “He’s quite young.”

  “And attractive?” Hannah smiled at the young woman’s reaction.

  “Hannah – we hardly know the man; he may be an imposter for all we know. Edward certainly hinted at the fact and even suggested that he and Arthur were colluding together and possibly had something to do with poor Charles death.”

  Hannah frowned “Surely that is Edward speaking out of anger; he has no proof of this?”

  “Nothing concrete, but it is strange, Edward was almost accusing poor Arthur of being involved in some kind of fraud. We know that he has gambling debts and who knows what else? I don’t particularly like Arthur, but I can’t imagine that he would be mixed up in all of this, even if he does need the money. Charles did leave him a more than generous provision in his will. Oh Hannah, I don’t know what to think!”

  Sitting down on the bed next to her mistress, Hannah looked thoughtful for a moment. “Sometimes people say hurtful things under pressure, but if it is true about the money, then it does appear strange. I will keep my ears open in the servant’s quarters, you know how they love to gossip and just maybe someone has heard something. If your husband’s death was suspicious, then it may affect the content of his will; who knows what might happen?”

  Leaving her young mistress to sleep, Hannah made her way back downstairs. She had heard Stephens and Hudson enter the house and the kitchen would be full of idle gossip. Maybe she would hear something to Christabel’s advantage.

  As soon as she entered the kitchen, the buzz of voices quieted. Like the young mistress, she too, was an interloper and was not trusted by the older members of staff. Although polite, Mrs. Hudson was always stiff towards her and Stephens was a man of few words. As Christabel’s personal maid she didn’t have many dealings with the general run of the household and could keep herself much to herself for most of the day, but at mealtimes she would join the rest of them, taking her seat at the end of the table and making polite conversation.

  Mrs. Hudson was now seated in front of the kitchen fire, sipping on a nip of brandy, her feet propped up on a small stool. The woman wasn’t old, perhaps late forties or early fifties, but she often complained of this pain or that ache and her feet seemed to be constantly swollen and giving her grievance. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she had been crying again, the two younger kitchen maids standing around her wide eyed. Mrs. Hudson had obviously been recounting the tale of the morning events.

  Hannah was surprised that the woman still seemed to be grieving for her late master; she had considered the woman to be quite cold and heartless, without much feeling; perhaps she had been wrong. She thought the housekeeper would be celebrating her good fortune, but perhaps she had not told the good news to the rest of staff, and both were keeping their windfall a secret.

  “We were just saying, Miss Simpson, what a shame it is for the young mistress. A terrible business on all accounts.” Mrs. Hudson was not interested in the mistress, only in further tittle-tattle and Hannah was not going to add to their gossip.

  “It is indeed Mrs. Hudson.”

  “So what is the you
ng mistress going to do now that we have a new master?”

  Hannah frowned “Nothing is for certain yet, Mrs. Hudson. There are still a number of legal procedures to go through and who knows what might happen?” She had already said too much and stopped. There was enough idle gossip around.

  Mrs. Hudson sighed; she was not going to get anymore out of Hannah and changed the subject. “Well I suppose we had better look to making some lunch. I, for one, am in need of some sustenance after such a morning. Look lively Ruth, Daisy, there’s potatoes to be peeled and onions to be chopped.”

  The two young kitchen maids immediately started to prepare for their chores; they were simple yet honest girls and were ruled with a rod of iron by the steely Mrs. Hudson.

  “Oh, Mrs. Hudson, I quite forgot.” Fishing a crumpled envelope out of her apron pocket, Daisy handed the letter over to the older woman. Mrs. Hudson studied the envelope carefully, her expression suddenly changing to one of shock.

  “Who brought this?” She almost barked at the poor, timid girl. The envelope had no postage stamp and only her name was written in a scrawled ink on the front of the envelope. It had obviously not been delivered by the postman.

  “A young man called this morning and he asked me to give you this and to say that he would call back later today.”

  “His name?”

  The young girl was visibly shaking. “I don’t know Mrs. Hudson; he didn’t say.”

  Dismissing the girl with a cuff around the ear, Mrs. Hudson stuffed the envelope into her apron pocket and looked around. All eyes were watching the scene.

  “Well, what are you all gawping at? Daisy, Ruth, get on with your chores, or it will be time for supper, let alone lunch. I must go and speak with Mr. Stephens.”