Second Chance with the Shifter (Stonybrooke Shifters)

by Leela Ash

  What was she thinking? Arthur Chadwick was a drunken fool, and Edward had been right to dismiss him. She hadn’t known about the requests for money and it didn’t sound like something Charles would do, but then what did she know of his affairs, or even of his life before she had met him? He had been a private man and they had talked little of the past.

  Christabel rubbed at her temples; it was all too confusing to think about it now. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she still hadn’t eaten; a gnawing ache in her abdomen. She was sure to find some leavings in the kitchen. There was no need to wake Hannah; she could fend for herself for once.

  Slipping on her robe she lit one of the small lamps by the side of her bed and carried it carefully across the bedroom, onto the landing, and down the great staircase. The house was different at night; quiet and watchful. Everything was silent except for the old grandfather clock that ticked steadily at the foot of the stairs.

  Crossing the hall, she opened the door leading down to the lower staircase and kitchen. She paused when she heard the sound of voices. Mrs. Hudson and Stephens were still awake and talking quietly below. It wouldn’t do for the servants to see her in her night attire and she almost closed the door again, but stopped abruptly at the mention Charles’ name.

  “I tell you Mrs. Hudson, there is more to Lord Montgomery’s death than meets the eye. I have been in this family for over forty years and have known Charles Montgomery since he was a boy. There was nothing wrong with the man; he was as strong as an ox. There have been some ill goings on Mrs. Hudson, make no mistake, but what can be done?”

  There was a pause in the conversation whilst Mrs. Hudson reflected on Stephens’ words. The death of Lord Montgomery had hit her hard and she struggled to keep her emotion at bay. “Surely not Mr. Stephens, it was an accident by all accounts and either way, who would do such a thing?”

  “Well that’s the thing Mrs. Hudson, whom indeed?”

  The door at the top of the stairs squeaked as Christabel tried to close it. She had heard enough and wanted to retreat back upstairs to her bedroom.

  “Who’s there?” The voices below stopped, pausing to listen at the sudden sound. Christabel wanted to turn back and run for the safety of her room, but Stephens would be at the top of the stairs before she had fled across the hallway. Despite his age, he was quite agile and how would she explain running away like that? There was only one thing to do, she would just have to bluff her way through the situation.

  Opening the door wide, she walked carefully down the steps. The pair stood up as Christabel entered the kitchen. The fire had been lit and the room was cozy; a bottle of Charles’ favorite brandy stood half empty on the scrubbed kitchen table, along with two glasses filled part way with the amber liquid. Christabel looked away and pretended not to notice. After all, it had been a long day.

  “Sorry to disturb you both. I was looking for something to eat; some cold leavings from today’s meal perhaps?” Mrs. Hudson nodded without speaking and walked to the pantry to fetch her mistress a plate of food.

  “I’ll bring up a tray to your room, madam. Will that be all?” She was being dismissed by Stephens and knew it. This wasn’t her territory and it was clear that they didn’t like her invading their space and wanted rid of her as soon as possible.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”

  Stephens held the door back open for her. “I would advise you madam to return up to your room or you will catch your death of cold dressed only in your night wear. I will bring the tray up shortly.”

  Christabel pulled the dressing gown tightly around her. It was difficult to be dignified dressed in her nightgown and rob. She suddenly felt like a child. There was a silence as she headed back up the stairs. They would wait until she was out of sight before they started talking again. Christabel felt weary. Now she had no doubt something terrible had happened to Charles, but what?

  The late meal that was eventually brought up to her room consisted of little more than cold meat and bread, but she dared not argue or ask for anything else. The pair were too formidable and she, in turn, too afraid to speak up. Suddenly the night had turned menacing around her and the shadows that lurked in the room were now dark and evil. The once quiet house seemed noisy, as if every creak and groan of the house was bemoaning the fate of Charles Montgomery.

  She slept very little, and when she did her dreams were dark and full of images of the grave. Charles appeared to her at the foot of the bed, his face somber and racked in pain. Opening his mouth as if to speak to her, a maggot crawled from between his lips, followed by another, and yet another, until his whole face was crawling with the white bugs. Waking with a start she sat up in terror, her heart thumping hard within her chest.

  Something was not right, yet she wondered what she could do about it? By this time tomorrow she might not even have a home, let alone a husband! It was the one day she had been dreading; even more than the funeral. Charles’s will was due to be read and with it, her fate for the future sealed.

  Chapter Three

  The Last Will & Testament of the late Charles Montgomery was due to be read at the offices of Lewis and Lewis, located in Middle Temple Lane. Although it was only a fifteen-minute walk, Englebert had offered to take her in his cab, and whilst she would rather not sit alone with the man, she did not feel up to walking and had politely accepted. Besides, she had asked Stephens and Mrs. Hudson to ride with them; Mr. Lewis had asked that they attend, thereby implying that something had been left to them both in the will.

  Although she did not like either of her servants, Christabel was pleased that they had been remembered, if even in a small way in the will; it would be something to show for their years of loyal duty to Charles.

  They were shown into a large room that was paneled with dark oak and matching furniture. A very large and grand desk, inlaid on the surface with dark green leather, stood by the window and dominated most of the room. Dark, overstuffed and rather well worn leather chairs were dotted around the room; their seats shiny from the wear of countless backsides, and several wooden backed chairs were arranged in two neat rows in front of the desk, ready to seat them all.

  Old Mr. Lewis was seated behind the desk and must have been at least in his eightieth year. His white hair flopped lazily over his collar and his tortoiseshell pince-nez hung from the bridge of his nose. Christabel wondered if he were asleep.

  Edward and Anne had already arrived and sat on the front row; as if by sitting in the prime seats they would be the first to hear the lawyer’s words as soon as the contents of the will was read. Although Anne still wore black, the clothes were different from those she had worn at the funeral and obviously newly bought in celebration of their anticipated future wealth. Edward looked smug; he had waited long enough for this moment and had feared that it would never happen. Soon he would be in possession of the family estate and able to clear his own debts. As the second son, he had been in receipt of a yearly allowance, but it was not enough to cover both his and Anne’s lavish expenses. He had no head for business and had lost money in dubious schemes abroad that had lured him with the promise of tripling his investments but in reality had left him with less than nothing. But that was all behind him now.

  The door opened and Arthur Chadwick slunk in to the room. He had obviously had a late night and looked disheveled, as if he had been sleeping rough, the smell of alcohol and stale tobacco clinging to his clothing.

  “I’m surprised you dare show your face, Chadwick,” Edward spoke without turning to acknowledge the man, and Arthur sat in silence behind the main group.

  As soon as they were all settled, Edward cleared his throat, anxious for the formal proceedings to start. The will was scheduled to be read at eleven the morning after the funeral and the large clock on the wall showed that there was still five minutes to wait.

  “Lewis old man, can we get down to business. Surely, we don’t have to stand on ceremony now that we are all here?”

  The old man jum
ped at the sound of his name and if he had not been actually asleep, then was most certainly in a light doze. The glasses slipped from his face as he fumbled to right himself. Peering over the top of his pince-nez he looked along the row of seats; counting as he did so. “I must wait for the appointed time. You see there is one other person to arrive. We shall have to wait until the appointed hour of eleven.”

  Edward was silent for a moment; his ruddy cheeks now crimson. “What do you mean another person? We are all here man. Wake up Lewis, there is no one else.”

  At that moment the door opened and in walked a young man. Christabel let out an audible gasp; it was the man she had seen in the church and again at the side of Charles grave. He wore a somber and cheap looking suit and looked awkward as all eyes turned towards him.

  “Good morning Mr. Crawley, I’m glad you could make it. Now do please be seated.”

  As the young man took the seat nearest to the door, the clock on the wall started to chime eleven. It left Edward open mouthed, the words on his lips silenced for once.

  ***

  Christabel could feel her heart start to pound. The enigmatic stranger was also a benefactor of her husband’s will! She wondered why he had never mentioned the handsome young man to her. She imagined him naked and immediately blushed; the same strange ache returning to her breast.

  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 t
hat 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.