by Lynne Graham
‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ Circumspectly she dragged her eyes from him. What did he see? Poor, bullied, plain spinster cousin Claire? He would be surprised how much purpose seethed beneath her composed exterior. Even more surprised perhaps to learn there was a man in her life.
‘Coffee for Dane, Maisie!’ she called into the kitchen.
‘Claire!’ Carter erupted afresh, somewhere in her wake.
She hastened back, rather flushed and harassed, to take a seat in one of the hard, overstuffed armchairs. Mr Coverdale was unfurling papers from his briefcase. ‘Firstly—’ he cast a rather wary glance round the room ‘—there are people present who do not benefit from Mr Fletcher’s last will and testament.’
‘We’re all family,’ Carter said loftily. ‘Please continue.’
The older man sighed. ‘Mr Fletcher had for some time intended that Miss Claire Fletcher be the sole beneficiary of his estate, but a year ago he made alterations to his will. I did seek to reason with him about the terms he included, but to no avail, and I feel it my duty to inform you, Miss Fletcher, that …’
‘The sole beneficiary? The sole beneficiary?’ Celia was repeating furiously.
An expression of rich enjoyment crossed Dane’s faintly bored features and he lowered himself down gracefully into a chair near the window, his air one of strong anticipation.
‘That it is very unlikely that you could combat those terms in court,’ Mr Coverdale completed.
‘She’s getting everything?’ Celia ranted, still not over the first statement, her plump face a blotchy pink.
Carter curled his lip over his aunt’s annoyance. ‘And who more deserving, Celia? Claire was a very dutiful granddaughter. I’m sure no one could argue that anyone else was more entitled. If you listen, however, you will realise that Grandfather didn’t make the bequest without qualification.’
Under the loud backlash of family comment, Claire had paled. A year ago the will had been changed. Her romance with Max had shaken her grandfather up more than he had admitted. She wasn’t disapppointed. In fact, she was grateful not to have received the entire estate. She could hardly feel it was her due. As long as there was still enough for the Morleys, she told herself squarely, and mentally crossed her fingers.
‘Unfortunately Mr Fletcher’s affairs are in quite a tangle and I don’t yet have adequate valuations on the investments my client made out in South Africa. He mortgaged this house to do so. However, I can tell you that—’ the solicitor advanced, affecting not to hear the gasps of surprise ‘—the money does rest in those investments and I imagine that the amount will be a considerable one. Now I shall read the will, if I may.’
Taken aback by the news that the Hall was mortgaged, Claire resolutely attempted to avoid Carter’s meaningful smile in her direction. He seemed expectant, excited almost, as though the contents of the will were already known to him.
‘… being of sound mind do bequeath my estate in its entirety to my granddaughter, Claire, on the condition that she marries one of my grandsons, such choice being an obvious one … He did insist on writing this himself,’ Mr Coverdale murmured uncomfortably, as if the unearthly silence that had fallen and Claire’s shocked stillness had penetrated even his bland good humour. ‘You see, he believed it would take a man to run his business affairs, Miss Fletcher, but Mr Carter Fletcher assured me that you were only holding off from a formal announcement out of respect for you grandfather’s demise. Or am I premature in mentioning the matter?’
Shattered by Carter’s unforgivable machinations to line his own pockets, Claire was incapable of speech.
‘Congratulations.’ Sandra kissed her cheek with newly discovered cousinly affection. ‘It’s by far the fairest arrangement.’
Claire’s teeth sank into the soft underside of her lower lip and she tasted blood. ‘It’s iniquitious … humiliating …’ Her stifled voice wasted away.
‘Claire, you’re overwrought.’ A heavy hand came down to pat her shoulder.
Instinctively she flinched from Carter’s proprietorial hold, too disgusted even to look at him. Well, his visits to their grandfather had certainly paid good dividends! ‘What happens if I don’t marry Carter?’ she asked.
The solicitor looked distinctly uneasy. ‘The will doesn’t specify which of your male cousins,’ he added as if he believed this might be of some help to her.
‘I’m engaged!’ Steve burst out abruptly.
Dane gave up the ghost and laughed with unholy amusement.
Celia rounded on him like a tigress. ‘It’s all very well for you to laugh,’ she snapped. ‘The money means nothing to you!’
Dane dealt her a sardonic smile. ‘Was that your Roller or someone else’s I saw at the cemetery? Good God, none of you are broke except Claire,’ he breathed contemptuously.
‘I shall continue now,’ Mr Coverdale cut in hurriedly before hostilities escalated afresh. ‘There is a small bequest and … an alternative. To my grandson Dane, I bequeath my Bible.’ A pindropping silence fell. ‘To James and Celia, nothing because …’ He hesitated fatally.
‘Nothing?’ Celia screeched incredulously. ‘Because of what?’
The solicitor breathed in like a man girding his loins. ‘Because during my lifetime I on several occasions advanced certain monies to my son James, which he did not repay although I did remind him of the debts …’
‘Come, James.’ Celia arose majestically. ‘Steven! We’re not staying here any longer.’
‘And in the event of my granddaughter Claire pursuing that relationship which I did not approve of and no marriage taking place with my grandson, my estate, is to be sold and the proceeds given to the Temperance Society.’
‘Who shall I serve first?’ Maisie asked as she noisily wheeled in the tea trolley.
Carter cleared his throat. ‘What relationship, Claire?’
She got up quickly. ‘I believe that’s my business, Carter. Please excuse me for a moment, Mr Coverdale,’ she murmured and followed her aunt and uncle’s sweeping departure to the hall.
Steve clasped her hand, his boyish face wreathed with embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …’ he began awkwardly.
‘I didn’t take offence.’ She forced a smile because she liked him. Clearly Celia’s behaviour had mortified him. How often had Adam embarrassed her in front of others? Once too often today, she thought, going down the steps to speak to her aunt and uncle.
‘Oh, it’s not your fault,’ Celia was saying petulantly to her hen-pecked husband. ‘I hated him. He was a miserable, cantankerous old goat and I don’t care if he was your father, James! I never had a polite word from him.’
‘Won’t you stay to dinner?’ Claire pressed unhappily.
Celia spun on her diminutive niece. ‘You have to be joking,’ she said cuttingly. ‘I wish you joy with Carter. He’s an Adam in the making!’
Her uncle squeezed her hand apologetically. ‘She doesn’t mean it, you know. Carter’s a fine young man.’
She watched them depart and then found Mr Coverdale already hovering in the hall behind her. ‘I had finished, Miss Fletcher. If you have any queries, please don’t hesitate to call.’
‘He left nothing for the staff here?’ In her anxiety she double-checked.
‘Unfortunately not. I’m afraid my client was not of a benevolent disposition,’ he said heavily.
What an understatement! Still in shock, Claire glanced into the drawing-room where Carter and Sandra were in close confab. Dane was nowhere to be seen. She suspected him of taking refuge in the library. Striving to calm herself down, Claire went into the kitchen. But what on earth was she going to do?
Her grandfather had removed her from school at sixteen. She had no training for any career. She hadn’t even got to sit her O-levels. Maisie was sitting tiredly by the kitchen table. Claire looked away again, a terrible bitterness consuming her as she tasted the full portent of her grandfather’s selfishness. She did not have a penny of her own to give the Morleys. Would c
eding them that pitiful cottage for the remainder of their lives have been such a sacrifice? How mightily self-satisfied he must have been after penning that will to explode upon all of them but Carter.
She dragged out the vegetable basket and piled potatoes into the sink. It was after five. She might as well start dinner early.
‘Here. I got it from my car.’ A liqueur glass landed on the edge of the draining board. Dane gave her a mocking smile. ‘You need a drink more than you need a cup of half-cold tea. Are you all set to celebrate your nuptials with Carter?’
His amusement struck her as cruel. Yes, in a sense Celia had spoken truly. Dane didn’t have a clue what it felt like to be a charity case or to be humiliated as she had been by that will. Her grandfather had literally proffered a bribe to Carter to marry her.
‘No.’
He lounged with indolent grace back against the old wooden cupboards. ‘Then you’re going to pursue the unsuitable relationship?’ he guessed. ‘You surprise me. I never thought you had the guts to rebel.’
Her cheeks flamed. ‘You’re very frank.’
He shrugged indifferently. ‘I came to tell you I’d give you a lift down to London if you want one, and I’ll fix you up with somewhere to stay,’ he offered casually. ‘Knowing Adam, you haven’t even got the price of your next meal.’
She lifted the potato peeler and resisted an urge to dig it into his lean, muscular ribcage. If only it were that easy. Her hopes had been dashed to smithereens. She had foolishly dared to dream and by doing so had tripled her own disappointment. When was she going to learn? The thought train verged too close to self-pity and she killed it stone dead. There would be no farm for Max, no home that she could finally call her own. Thanks to Adam, Max was on the dole queue, sacked without a reference because he had dared to offer her marriage and that hadn’t fitted in with Adam’s plans.
How could she go to Max now, penniless, with only a few shabby clothes to her name? What prospect did she even have of supporting herself? She had no qualifications, no marketable talent outside the domestic sphere. She would be a millstone round Max’s neck.
Yet for so long she had dreamt of making Max’s dream come true and sharing that dream with him. Rigid with self-discipline, totally unaware of Dane’s sharply assessing scrutiny, she noticed Maisie quietly tidying up in the pantry, and her selfish absorption in her own predicament left a nasty taste in her mouth. At least she had health and youth on her side. The Morleys had only the expectancy that a lifetime of service would lead to an easier old age. And now even that was to be denied them
Carter’s peevish voice sprung her from her depressing introspection. ‘What are you drinking, Claire?’
Dane expelled his breath. ‘Oh, put the lid on it, Carter. You were always a dead bore. You don’t need to labour the point the way you do,’ he drawled.
Ignoring Carter, Claire glanced hopefully at Dane. ‘You’ll stay to dinner?’ she urged. ‘It won’t be anything special, of course, but …’
‘Shall I send my chauffeur out for some steak?’ Dane interposed calmly. ‘We could all do with a decent meal. I’ll go and tell him.’
Carter’s mouth worked convulsively as Dane breezed past him. ‘Who does he think he is?’ he finally managed.
‘He was being practical,’ she countered with unwitting defensiveness. ‘He knows what the housekeeping budget is like here and I assume he’s hungry.’
‘I wasn’t talking about Dane’s appetite!’ he parried shortly.
Claire continued doggedly to peel potatoes. ‘I didn’t suppose you were, Carter, but I really don’t have anything else to discuss with you,’ she stressed coldly.
Impervious to hints, he murmured with an air of self-restraint. ‘I’ll speak to you later.’
Claire managed to smile at Maisie. ‘I think it’s time you went home. You must be exhausted. I can manage fine.’
Alone then, she pictured a life sentence of Carter and abandoned the picture with a shiver. The assiduous toadying with which he had paved his every visit here to Adam had made her stomach heave. Now resentment hurtled fiercely through her in addition. The will doesn’t specify which of your cousins. The solicitor’s deadpan aside produced a humourless smile on her mouth. As if she was ready to barter herself to anyone for money! Unless it wasn’t a real marriage … the insidious thought crept in. In an illuminating flash she saw the possibility of solving all her problems in one fell swoop.
Maisie and Sam would be secure. She could be with Max without being a burden. No, it was a fantastic notion, born out of sheer despair, and there was only one possible candidate. Dane. He was Adam’s grandson, too. But Dane would think she was crazy. The idea of even approaching him on such a mission plunged her sharply back to cold reality.
She flushed guiltily when he reappeared to dump a carrier bag on the table. ‘I like beef Stroganoff,’ he informed her, oblivious to her blushes as he departed again.
Dane always spoke with the assurance and habit of command. Even in his normal garb of jeans, the aura of power and unspoken expectations clung to him. But then from birth Dane had had everything he wanted. He was bound to be pretty selfish and spoilt by the fashion in which women pursued him. Her weary mouth down-curved. Who the heck did he think was going to toil over a hot stove to make his wretched meal? But why should he think? Used as he was to servants, it would not occur to Dane that he was creating hassle she could well do without.
The atmosphere round the table in the icy cold dining-room was tense. Dane ate with unblemished appetite. Carter, who looked upon anything remotely different in the food line as suspicious, poked his food round his plate, and Sandra was too busy trying to flirt with Dane to notice what she was eating.
‘Is it OK if I stay tonight?’ Dane enquired lazily. ‘I’m jet-lagged and I don’t feel like another journey.’
Claire nodded politely. ‘That’s fine.’
Another two beds to make up, unless he expected his chauffeur to sleep in the car! She trailed worn, thin sheets from the airing cupboard and trekked into the bedrooms. The rooms were so cold her breath was fogging in the air, and she went downstairs again to fill hot-water bottles that would take the chill off the rarely used beds. Then she lit a fire in Dane’s room. He was sure to be finding it colder than anyone else.
By the time she had done all that and embarked on the dishes, she was practically asleep standing up. When Carter came in and demanded to know where Maisie was, she nearly screamed at him. Slowly she counted to ten. ‘It’s late, Carter. I sent her home hours ago.’
‘Leave those, then. It’s time we talked.’
Setting the last dish to drain, she dried her hands. ‘Sorry, I’m going up to bed. It’s been a very long day.’
His mouth narrowed in exasperation. ‘For everybody, Claire,’ he rebuked condescendingly.
A fuse blew, Claire planted her hands on her hips. ‘Has it been? Were any of the rest of you involved in making beds, cleaning this wretched house or making meals? Has one of you so much as lifted a finger? Sandra and you arrived two days ago, and neither of you have done a single thing,’ she condemned. ‘Who do you think has been doing it? The fairies? The past week has been one long, relentless slog for me. I haven’t been sitting around sipping tea. I’ve been serving it. I wouldn’t marry you either, Carter, not if you went down on your bended knees and begged. I’m sorry your little plan has failed at the last ditch,’ she lied in a shaking voice. ‘Goodnight, Carter.’
She swept past his turkey-red face and mounted the stairs, hearing his shocked murmurings to his sister in the hall below. Well, she wasn’t ashamed of herself! Whatever the future held for her, she wasn’t going to be used by anyone again!
She recalled the social worker who had ferried her up here thirteen years ago. ‘You’re a very lucky little girl,’ that lady had said innocently. ‘You still have a family and you’re going to live in a lovely big house. I expect you’ll have lots of fun there.’ And Claire could still remember the coldness
of the non-existent welcome mat, the lady’s uneasy, almost guilty departure.
On the surface, the passage of time had changed very little. However, she was a grown woman now, not a frightened, dependent child and if she didn’t fight, no one else would do the fighting for her, Automatically she readied herself for bed.
‘You’ll be taken care of. I’ve seen to that,’ Adam had pronounced piously weeks ago.
Taken care of? By what right had he chosen to reach out from beyond the grave to demand that she marry a man who didn’t even have the saving grace of respecting her? And she owed Carter nothing. Neither he nor his sister had even tried to ease the burden of nursing their grandfather. But oh, yes! they all had time to attend the funeral and none of them had the smallest interest in what happened to the Morleys. For the first time she appreciated that Maisie and Sam’s future was dependent on what she herself chose to do and the lunatic idea that had occurred to her earlier suddenly didn’t seem quite so fantastic any more.
Her hands shook with suppressed rage as she buttoned her robe. After all these years was she to let the Morleys go from this house penniless? Things might have been different had she been allowed to train as a secretary … or something. She could have helped them financially then. Instead, she had spent the past seven years being nothing more than a glorified servant. God knows, there weren’t even jobs out there for qualified people—what hope did she have? And Max? Being fired hadn’t helped his prospects. He’d done nothing to deserve such treatment. Neither had Maisie and Sam. Adam owed all of them more than that. If she married Dane, the terms of the will would be fulfilled. It would cost him nothing, yet it would mean so much to everyone else concerned.
What harm would it do just to mention the idea to him? You’re a coward. She glowered at herself myopically in the mirror. You could at least try. So what if he laughs? When are you likely to see him again?
Buoyed by a courage that was three-quarters desperation, she left her room and crept down the corridor to knock on Dane’s door. His quiet answer encouraged her in.
