by Dilys Xavier
When the couple were informed that the job was theirs they hugged each other with delight. At Catherine’s suggestion Ruben took them on a guided tour of the gardens and introduced them to Dave, while Josie prepared morning tea. Leslie had already made it clear that they were free to take up their responsibilities almost immediately if necessary.
By the time they were ready to leave, all the details had been worked out.
Feeling quite exhausted by the headache that had persisted all morning, Catherine remained seated on the sofa while Josie accompanied the couple to the door and said goodbye. Before going companion upstairs with Josie to check out the area set aside for live-in staff, she gulped down another couple of painkillers, but they seemed to have little effect.
They discussed what furniture and fittings to leave, and Josie promised to arrange for a few things to be moved to another part of the house. As they returned to the ground floor Catherine laid a hand on the other woman’s arm.
‘Oh, Josie, I’m going to miss you around the place. I couldn’t have coped without your help.’
‘Thank you dear.’ Josie patted her hand. ‘I’ll stay until the Johnson’s settle in if you like; after all they’ll be here in a few days.’
‘And what about Ruben?’
‘Well, I know he’s missing his family, but he’ll probably be able to stay for a few more days.’
When Josie left the room Catherine phoned Cecile to tell her the news, but she had to be content with leaving a message on the answerphone. Before replacing the receiver she rang the surgery to make an appointment to see her doctor, and then spoke to Fergus Miller, the senior partner of Braithwaite and Hutchinson, the solicitors.
‘I’ll have everything ready to sign when you come, tomorrow,’ Fergus said, as Catherine reminded him of the date. ‘Leave it all to me. It’s just a formality; there won’t be any problems. You’ll be in and out of the place in ten minutes.’
She checked with Ruben Lombard before leaving the next morning. Leslie Johnson had phoned the previous evening regarding the possibility of stabling his own horses on the premises and she wanted the older man to handle the situation.
And now as she listened to the doctor arrange for an x-ray, just in case there was a hairline fracture of the skull, a feeling of unease swept over her. She was tempted to mention this anxiety to the consultant, but she reasoned that it was all due to her concern about the inheritance. And no amount of pills would change that situation. However, the sensation heightened as she was shown into the solicitor’s chambers. This is silly, she thought. Fergus is a family friend, so why am I nervous of seeing him?
‘Ah, good morning, Miss Lowestoffe … er … Catherine.’ His voice sounded ominous and she had the impression that he was trying to conceal something from her. He gestured at an empty chair. ‘I’m afraid I have some rather unpleasant news for you. Something unexpected has transpired.’ He looked down at his hands and then back at her. ‘I have received a letter from James Farleigh, the solicitor acting on behalf of a Mr Richard Carlisle. He has informed me that a claim has been made on the estate of Langley Hall, that it has been examined, notarised, and witnessed, according to the requirements of the law.’
Catherine felt her heart stand still and her mouth go dry.
Fergus Miller shuffled the papers on his desk as if searching desk for something. It was obvious that he was trying to cover his discomfort. Then he picked up a document and cleared his throat noisily.
‘I’ll just refresh your memory by reading the will again.’ He paused and then raised his voice.
‘This is the last will and testament of me, Hugh Bernard Williams, baronet, of Langley Hall, revoking all other wills and testaments previously made by myself.
I give and bequeath to my only daughter, the Lady Elizabeth, the whole of my estate and chattels. Should she be deceased or not returned home by the time of my death, then I bequeath the same aforesaid to her heir or heirs in equal parts, should they be found.
In the event of her death and having no issue then I bequeath all my worldly goods to my stepdaughter, Catherine Lowestoffe, on the date of her thirtieth birthday, having allowed sufficient time for my natural heirs to come forward to claim their inheritance, should there be any found living.
Should my daughter, the said Lady Elizabeth, or her heir or heirs, come forward to make a claim, then I leave to my stepdaughter, the said Catherine Lowestoffe, the following.
That is to say, the Langley Lodge, my collection of Chinese paintings, and those horses of her choice, plus one fifth of my shares, so that she can continue to live in the manner to which she has been accustomed at Langley Hall. Until such time, my stepdaughter, Catherine Lowestoffe, shall be entitled to remain living at Langley Hall.’
Catherine made no comment; she knew the words of the will by heart.
Fergus Miller looked up from the document for a moment and then continued.
‘It would seem that Richard Carlisle has only recently learned of his relationship to Sir Hugh and his right to claim the inheritance.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘And of course there is no point in disputing the will; it would be waste of time and money. It’s been signed and witnessed according to the law.’
‘But how ...’ Catherine began and then stopped.
‘Mr Carlisle has suggested that you should be allowed three months to vacate the main house, and of course there is no problem about your residency at the Lodge.’ Fergus Miller glanced at her over the top of his glasses. ‘If there are any problems concerning these matters, I’m sure they can all be worked out amicably.’
Catherine mumbled a reply as the solicitor gathered all the relevant papers together.
‘I shall require your signature on a few documents in due course,’ he said, climbing to his feet. ‘Nothing to worry about. I’ll get my assistant to phone you when they’re ready.’ He clasped his hands in front him like an awkward schoolboy. ‘I don’t know what to say, Catherine. Nobody could have envisaged the sudden appearance of an heir, especially at this late stage. It must come as a terrible shock to you.’
‘I ... I,’ Catherine began and then lapsed into silence.
Fergus Miller’s face reflected the sadness he expressed, but it did nothing to ease her pain. In an attempt to mollify her, he suggested that his secretary could make them a cup of tea or perhaps provide something a little stronger. She waived aside his offer and stood up.
He accompanied her to the door and shook her hand. ‘Now, if there are any problems you ring me straight away.’ His voice sounded a trifle husky as he bade her goodbye.
Unable to respond, Catherine nodded mutely. She paused outside the building and pressed both hands against her temples as the throbbing pain pounded against the inside of her skull. Her head felt as though it was about to explode. Almost blinded by the headache, she stumbled to the car park and climbed laboriously into her car and slumped behind the wheel. When she finally felt well enough to drive she made her way slowly back to Langley Hall.
Josie looked up in alarm as Catherine staggered into the house and collapsed on the sofa.
‘Oh dear, what’s the matter?’ Josie cried in alarm. She sat down beside Catherine and slipped an arm around her shoulders. ‘What’s happened?’
‘The house,’ Catherine gasped. ‘I’ve lost the house.’ She laid her head on the older woman’s bosom and began to weep. ‘I’m going to lose my home.’
Slowly and with great patience, Josie coaxed the details from her. Catherine related her meeting with the solicitor, and the man’s final remarks about her tenure at Langley Hall and her ownership of the Lodge. She confided her fears of the past few weeks; how she’d had a premonition of impending loss since the day she had met Richard Carlisle. The day they buried Cousin John.
‘What’s going to happen to me now,’ she wailed. ‘I don’t want to live in the Lodge. I couldn’t bear to be so close to this house knowing someone else was living here. It’s been my home for as long as I can remember.’
She clung to her friend’s hand. ‘Oh, Josie, what am I going to do?’
It was quite some time before Catherine felt calm enough to drink the coffee Josie had made, and when Ruben came in and asked what was the matter, she broke down again. Fighting back the tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks, she repeated what she had told Josie. He was dumbfounded, but quickly offered to do anything he could to ease the situation. His personal remedy to overcome adversity was to do something physical.
‘Come down to the stables with me,’ he suggested. ‘The horses need a bit of attention. If you feel up to it you could take Duke out for a ride. The fresh air will clear your head and help take your mind off things for a while.’
The moment Catherine swung her leg over the gelding and trotted out of the yard she knew it had been sound advice. The late afternoon sun cast shadows across the field, highlighting the ploughed furrows and the rabbits that hopped amongst the rows ever ready to dart back into the surrounding hedges. It was a scene she had witnessed so many times before, and one she had expected to enjoy for the rest of her life. But now everything had changed in a matter of hours.
Duke turned his head to look back at her enquiringly as she sniffed noisily. She patted his neck and whispered an endearment. Then without consciously thinking about it she began to talk to the animal - pouring out her thoughts and feelings in a desperate attempt to understand what had happened to her world. The gelding cocked his ears backward as though he were listening to every word, and occasionally made small snickering sounds as if he understood what she was saying.
‘What will I do, Duke,’ she moaned, sniffing again. ‘I don’t know where to go, or what to do. I have enough money to last me a lifetime, I’m still young enough to start again, but I don’t want to leave my home. It’s my home, not Richard Carlisle’s.’
The horse skittered sideways as she banged her fist down on the pommel.
‘How could he do it to me?’ she cried. ‘Just a few more days that’s all I needed. It’s my birthday tomorrow; once I turn thirty no one could have taken it away from me.’ She tugged a tissue out of her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Blast Richard Carlisle. Why did he have to come on the scene and spoil everything?’
She banged the pommel again. A sneer formed on her lips as she contemplated how he would probably make a mess of things; he had no idea how a grand house operated. He wouldn’t know how to entertain properly, or who to invite, or what was expected when the grounds were opened to the public for local festivals. She sniffed again. It was a disaster just waiting to happen. But why should she care.
The horse cocked one eye at her as if he had read her thoughts. Then snorted when she cried out loudly, ‘But, I do care Duke, I care very much.’
By the time she returned to the yard, Ruben was already saddling up another horse.
‘I was getting a bit worried about you.’ His voice carried a note of concern. ‘You’ve been gone a long time and it’s getting late.’
‘It’s all right, Ruben,’ Catherine said, ‘I just needed to be by myself for a while. I’ve been having a conversation with Duke. Horses don’t talk back or try to give advice.’
Josie called out to her as she entered the house. Cecile had phoned to say that she would visit that evening. Although she still felt betrayed, Catherine needed to find out whether her friend had been privy to Richard Carlisle’s intentions, or if it was all in her mind. But she did not wish to discuss the matter now. She just wanted to be alone.
Unwilling to take a chance that she would be disturbed she phoned Cecile, pleaded a headache and the need to go to bed early. Her friend made some sympathetic remarks and then asked what plans she had for her birthday.
‘Let’s go somewhere nice,’ she said, before Catherine had a chance to say it was the last thing on her mind at the moment. ‘We can have lunch at that new Italian restaurant. I’ve heard the food is excellent. How about we meet in the bar at twelve?’
Unwilling to appear unappreciative, Catherine reluctantly agreed. After they said goodbye she wearily climbed the stairs to her apartment. Slumping down on the sofa, she rubbed her temples and reached for the bottle of painkillers that the doctor had prescribed. She shook a couple of pills into her hand, popped them into her mouth and took a sip of water.
‘I hope these work a bit better than the last lot did,’ she muttered.
Still carrying the glass she pushed back the window drape and stared out over the estate. It all seemed so peaceful; if only she could feel the same. She glanced at the empty tumbler in her hand and then at the decanter of whisky; it seemed to beckon her from across the room. Pouring a generous measure into the glass she took a sip and then carried it back to the window.
The alcohol only exacerbated her headache, so she swallowed another couple of pills. The sun was just peeping over the horizon when she walked unsteadily away from the window, but by that time the whisky decanter was half empty and so was the bottle of painkillers.
Catherine felt her legs begin to buckle under her. She reached out a hand to steady herself, but the walls seemed to be have taken on a strange shape and were now slowly forming into a vortex. Somehow or other she managed to stagger into her bedroom, but as she collapsed on to her bed she felt as if she were descending into an abyss. Somewhere from deep inside her a cry for help tried to make itself heard. Then everything went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Richard stopped lathering his face and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was getting ready for his date with Cecile when realised that the outcome of his claim to the inheritance might affect her relationship with Catherine. Then he reminded himself that there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. He knew that Cecile was very loyal to her friend. She had never shared any gossip nor divulged anything about Catherine’s private life and had not even said anything about her role at the manor.
His own knowledge of the woman was sketchy and had only been gleaned from their limited social contact. I wonder what she’s really like under that cold exterior? he mused. Was she naturally aloof, or was it a cloak to hide some past hurt? Cecile had intimated that they had been friends since childhood and he wondered how they had formed such a close bond. They seemed so ill matched: Almost opposite ends of a spectrum.
He frowned at the mirror and as he started to draw the razor down one cheek he wondered what might have happened had he not succumbed to Cecile’s blatant overtures when they were brought together at the dinner party? Would he have contemplated pursuing Catherine? She had certainly looked very attractive, albeit in a cool, detached way. But of course it did not matter now. His personal life seemed centred on Cecile and he found it hard to imagine dating another woman. He smiled, pleased by the thought. Yes, she really was very special.
In a short while, he arrived at Cecile’s place. She opened the door as he reached out to ring the bell, accepted his gentle kiss on the cheek and led him into the sitting room. Then she pulled him down onto the sofa beside her and tucked her feet up under her in a gamin like pose.
‘Right, now tell me what’s happened.’
‘I thought we’d ... er ... have dinner first,’ Richard said, a trifle awkwardly. ‘I’ve booked a table.’
‘I’d like to know now.’ Her voice had a slight edge to it. When he hesitated she continued. ‘I spoke to Catherine this afternoon. She didn’t say much, except to mention that she’d hired an estate manager. However, she sounded very tired, almost exhausted, and I’m concerned that she has learnt about the inheritance and that it has had a very detrimental effect on her.’
‘She didn’t mention it?’
Cecile’s ‘No she did not’, was short and sharp. Then she brusquely reminded him that she was still waiting for an answer. Richard seemed lost for words for a moment and reiterated what he had already told her about making the deadline with hours to spare. Then he outlined the conversation he had with his solicitor and the arrangements that had been made regarding the take-over of La
ngley Hall. She listened in silence. When he stopped talking, she uncurled her feet and turned to face him.
‘So you have no idea whether she’s been informed or not of your successful claim?’
‘No. I can only assume that she has been notified, but I ...’ He stopped and shrugged. ‘I’m pretty sure that my solicitor has been in touch with hers, but other than that ...’ He stopped again.
‘I don’t know what to say, Richard, I really don’t.’ Cecile said, quietly. ‘I suppose I should congratulate you, but somehow or other I find it hard to do so under the circumstances.’
‘I can appreciate that, and I can also understand your concern for Catherine.’
Cecile made a funny little noise that he interpreted as a sign of approval. She climbed to her feet and took two glasses out of the cabinet and poured them both a drink.
‘Why don’t you cancel the booking? I can prepare something to eat, and we can have a quiet evening together. I think you should tell me what your plans are now that Langley Hall is yours. How does it fit in with your business interests? Will you go ahead with your planned expansion?’
‘That’s too many questions to answer at the moment.’ Richard said, passing a hand over his forehead. ‘I’ve been extremely busy organising the move to the new premises, hiring equipment and trying to keep tabs on things to give much thought to anything else.’ He tried to smile, but it looked a trifle forced. ‘I really don’t know what I’m going to do at the moment. Try me in a week or so.’
‘Okay, bring your glass into the kitchen and we’ll talk while I’m cooking.’
Later that evening, when Richard had unburdened himself about his concerns for her, for Catherine, and for his new role as Squire of Langley Hall, Cecile suggested that he should stay the night. She reminded him that he had consumed nearly quarter of a bottle of Calvados plus a couple of glasses of wine. They tumbled into bed and curled up together, both content to sleep in each other’s arms rather than make love first.
