The first one she will deal with immediately, and then she will deal with Reginald Pennick.
Ollie has never celebrated Christmas before, and thus has no expectations. The Chadwick family tradition for generations has governed every detail of Christmas morning. The merry Chillington-hall band—cousins and uncles and aunts and special friends and honored neighbors—arise early and gather in the Greatroom around an enormous Christmas tree decorated with candles, handmade ornaments, tiny packages, and real snow brought in by the servants. Mrs. Chadwick, they are told, is not feeling well and is resting in her room, but she wants them to carry on without her. As usual, the guests will take turns opening a special gift from the old woman, and then they may open gifts from each other as they see fit.
The servants pass out breakfast pastries and mugs of hot tea as everyone argues over the order of gift-opening. Three female cousins win the debate—no one knows how—and they go first, expressing mild pleasure at the garments Mrs. Chadwick has given them. Herbert Eaton, the Times reporter who wrote the first stories about Anne and Oliver, unwraps a new fox hunting gun, hoisting it aloft for everyone to see.
With dramatic flair, Gordon lifts his gift—an envelope humorously bound by an oversized ribbon and bow. “It’s not a new gun, I’m sure of that,” he says to faint laughter. Anne watches him delicately unwrap the bow and open the envelope, building the suspense. What could Mrs. Chadwick have picked out for Gordon?
Gordon’s slender fingers slip into the envelope and remove a thin sheaf of papers. “My, my—I wonder what this could be,” he says. Ollie is bouncing up and down with anticipation. Such a mysterious and unusual gift! It must be something special.
It is clearly a document, folded once. Gordon unfolds it, turns the front page right-side up, and begins to read. Everyone leans forward, awaiting a grand announcement. Gordon flips to the second page, holds up one hand and says, “Hold on, now—just a minute.” He reads more. And then his face whitens. He glances at Anne, then quickly turns away.
“Gordon, what is it?” Anne asks.
Gordon stands quickly, folds the document and awkwardly addresses the group. “If you’ll excuse me. Anne, please see that the party continues.” He leaves the room.
The group is silent, staring at Anne. “Well, then—I suppose we’ll have to wait to discover what that was all about. Who is next? Elizabeth, I believe it is you.”
Chapter 11
In her bedroom, Mum sits on the sofa, waiting. The servants have cleaned up the room and made the bed. She can hear heavy footsteps on the creaking floor of the hallway. Closing her eyes, she smiles faintly.
Will he knock?
The door flies open and Gordon lunges into the room, his ashen face now red with anger. “I want you to explain this!” he exclaims.
“I’ve been expecting you. Please close the door and then come and sit down,” Mum says calmly.
Gordon slams the door and stomps to an overstuffed chair. He slaps the document onto a table and slumps into the chair’s soft cushions, comically sinking down further than he had expected.
Mum smiles and says, “Now then—I imagine you came to thank me for my gift? How sweet.”
“Maybe I should remind you of the terms of our arrangement,” he says, then takes a breath, trying to calm himself. “When I approached you with news of Anisa and Ali, you agreed to give me a sum of money to finance an expedition to rescue them.”
“I paid you. It was a lot of money.”
“And I honored my promise. I brought them home.”
“You also insisted that I make a rather sizable donation to the Evangelicals to further their work. I considered that extortion, under the circumstances, but I paid.”
“It was a good cause. Do I have to remind you that it was my missionary work with them that made it possible for me to find your granddaughter and great-grandson?”
“Unfortunately, as I looked into the matter of this donation, I discovered that only a small portion of that money was ever turned over to the Evangelicals. Guess where it went?”
Gordon shifts his weight. His eyes dart excitedly around the room before focusing again on Mrs. Chadwick. “All right, I took the rest. So what? I was the one taking all the risks. They helped me arrange transportation, that’s all. You can’t tell me it wasn’t worth the money to get your family back.”
“And you call yourself a man of God!”
“I have saved hundreds of souls from eternal damnation!”
“Maybe you should work on your own soul. I fear it’s at risk.”
“None of this has anything to do with that document,” Gordon says. He picks it up, unfolds it, stares at the front page. “‘Last Will and Testament of Emily R. Chadwick.’ As I read this, I see that you’ve taken Anne out of your will.”
“That’s not entirely true. After I’m gone, she’ll receive about £3,000 per year. That’s quite a comfortable living. After all, she is my granddaughter. I wouldn’t want her to be cast out into the streets. But I think I see your point. If you should marry her, as you intend to do in a few months, you will no longer be marrying into my money. Isn’t that it?”
“We had an arrangement. I told you I was in love with Anne and we wanted to marry. You gave me your permission!”
“Ahhh—I see. Of course, it never would have occurred to me that your interest in marrying Anne was motivated by her being the Chadwick heiress. I’m just an old woman, the simple wife of a wealthy man—is that what you thought? An easy touch?”
“You can’t do this!”
“Let me say this as plainly as possible. You still have my permission to marry Anne if you wish. The two of you can share her £3,000 per year. As for Ollie, he will get everything else when he’s thirty. Until then, he will receive funds from a trust account managed by my attorney.” She pauses, then says, “You know, I don’t like you. I don’t like anyone who attempts to make money off another’s misfortune. I don’t like liars.”
“I rescued her.” Gordon thumps his chest with his forefinger. “And Ollie! Don’t forget that. You wouldn’t have Ollie if it wasn’t for me.”
“Is there anything else?” Mrs. Chadwick says dismissively.
“You would do this to your own granddaughter to punish me? That is the most despicable… What do you have against Anne? From the very beginning you’ve disliked her. Yet you fawn all over Ollie.”
“Anne is my granddaughter. Period. As a co-conspirator with you, she deserves no more than her annual stipend. The moment I met her, I knew that the two of you were in this together. I believe your rescue was a sham. From Ollie’s descriptions, their life was no prison. The way she feigned affection when she met me was transparent. I think the two of you have been waiting for the old woman to croak so you can get your hooks into my money. Just like her mother.”
“Oh, I see. No woman is ever good enough for a Chadwick man, is that it? All women are predators, just after your money.”
“Chadwick men have a weakness for selfish women. I even had to protect my own husband, God bless him, from such connivances. Men are fools.”
“So Anne is guilty of being the daughter of her mother.”
“She’s guilty of selfishness and conspiracy.”
Gordon stands and begins to pace nervously. “I can’t believe this. All right—I admit that at first I saw a pot of gold here. When I learned that Anisa was a Chadwick, I thought I could turn that into a few pounds. But the truth is, I fell in love with her.”
“Then marry her. And get a job.”
“I may just do that. In the beginning I probably would have married her for the money. But now—you’re wrong about me. I love Anne. And she is a wonderful woman. She has never said one word about an inheritance. I honestly don’t think she would miss it! We never once talked about it, that’s the truth.”
“Maybe you’d like to tell me about the year you spent in prison in Madrid. Was it for fraud, or something else?”
Gordon sits down, suddenly contrite
. “That was before I found God. Jesus changed my life. Do you think that’s not possible?”
“I think it’s unlikely.”
“Then I have no recourse but to prove that I love your granddaughter despite your money.”
“And how will you do that?”
“By marrying her. Forget your bags of money. My book is due to be published late summer. I expect it will earn a great deal of money.”
“Oh—perhaps I didn’t mention it,” Mrs. Chadwick says coyly. “Last month, at about the same time I changed my will, I bought the publishing company. George C. Boothby & Sons, I believe, is that right? It seems we’ve decided not to publish your manuscript after all. It just, what can I say, lacks credibility.”
Gordon slumps into the chair like a deflated balloon. “Of course, you can keep the advance payment, don’t worry about that. I hope it isn’t all spent.” Mum coldly smiles at the speechless Gordon, who appears utterly defeated. “Would you like some hot tea?”
Gordon’s life has completely unraveled. “You are a mean, hateful woman.”
“I am justice,” she responds. “Justice can seem cruel.”
He stands again with an unconvincing posture of defiance. “I will marry Anne despite your malicious scheming.”
“Are you quite sure that Anne will want you?”
“What? Of course. She loves me.”
“Hmmm—I wonder what would happen if she were put to the test.”
“What do you mean?”
“Perhaps you didn’t read the entire will.” She takes the document and turns several pages. “There is a provision here that allows her to regain some of her inheritance—half of my estate, to be exact, the other half going to Oliver. But there are two conditions that must be met. The first one is that she must not marry you—in fact, you are named right here,” she says, pointing to a line on the page and smiling. “The second condition is that she must marry someone else and remain married for ten years. You see, it occurred to me that I may be wrong about Anne, though it isn’t likely. And if so, then here is the remedy. I believe that ten years of a sustained marital relationship is beyond the ability of most opportunists who would marry her for the money. And a fair sentence if she wants to earn her inheritance. I wonder what will happen when she learns of this provision. Will she still choose to marry you, knowing of a certainty that she will lose her inheritance for good?”
Gordon cannot respond.
Checkmate.
Mrs. Chadwick breaks the uneasy silence. “Gordon, I know you hate me. And I greatly dislike and distrust you. But I don’t want you to think of me as unreasonable.” Gordon has to laugh at this. What could be more unreasonable than the plot this scheming woman has set into action? “Despite your dishonorable motives, I do appreciate having my great-grandson brought home. Because of this I am inclined to make you an offer.”
Gordon sits up, shifts to the edge of the chair. What is she up to now? “Let’s say £30,000 for your trouble. That’s in addition, I might add, to the outrageous sum I’ve already paid you. But now that I have Oliver, I can probably justify this as an investment.”
“You will give me another £30,000? You must want something else.”
“Here are my terms. I am prepared to give you a bank note for £10,000 immediately. If you accept the money, you must leave tonight without speaking to anyone, trusting me to explain your reasons as I see fit. You must leave England by New Year’s Day and move to, oh, Paris would be nice. Or Madrid. You can be a missionary if you wish. But you must completely stay out of England for at least four years. You must let me know the address of your residence. Then on the last day of each year for the next four years you will receive another £5,000. Provided, of course, that you have honored our agreement.”
Mrs. Chadwick reaches into a handbag and removes a bank note, handing it to Gordon. He takes it, studies it, looks up at the old woman. He stands, paces thoughtfully, and finally approaches her with eyes like slits in a mask.
“All right. I accept.”
Her expression and posture do not change, but inside Mum is quivering with delight. She sees Gordon’s decision as proof of her suspicions. Yes, he has shown that he is driven by the money. The payoff is a trivial sum to guarantee that Ollie is free of Gordon’s influence.
Through the immense maze of Chillington-hall it is easy for Gordon to make his escape unseen by others. A waiting carriage whisks him into the foggy night.
As Gordon bumps along the frozen road to London, Mrs. Chadwick carefully places the Last Will and Testament on the hallway floor outside Gordon’s room where Anne will see it and think that Gordon accidentally dropped it there. Like a spider waiting for a fly, the old woman waits and watches from a door at the far end of the corridor.
As Mrs. Chadwick had hoped, Anne at last approaches Gordon’s room and knocks on the door. As Anne waits outside the vacant room, she sees the folded document on the floor, recognizing it as the ‘gift’ Gordon had received that morning. She looks at the first page, then hides it beneath her shawl and takes it into her own room next door.
Mrs. Chadwick returns to her bedroom. About ten minutes later there is a knock on her door. Lying in bed, the old woman calls out, “Come in, please!”
Anne enters and approaches the bed. “I’ve not been able to find Gordon anywhere. Do you know where he is?”
“Sit down my dear.”
Anne defies the command. “Gordon received a gift from you this morning that seemed to trouble him. He flew out of the room and I haven’t seen him since.”
Mrs. Chadwick notices that Anne does not immediately ask about the Will, a sign of her deviousness. “It’s time we talked, my dear,” she says. “I confess there is something that I’ve been hiding from you. Only today did I get confirmation of some very disturbing news about Gordon.”
“What is it?”
“I know how much you love Gordon, but there are some things about him that you didn’t know. I’ve done some investigation, and this morning I confronted him with what I learned.”
“Tell me—what is this all about?”
“I learned that Gordon has a wife in France.” Mrs. Chadwick can be a convincing liar when she has a plan.
Anne is shaken. “That’s impossible,” she says. “He would have told me, I’m sure of it.”
“He has kept it a secret for years. Several times he has asked for a divorce, but his wife has never agreed to it. I grew suspicious about his behavior some time ago and hired a man to investigate. The so-called ‘gift’ I gave him this morning was a document that proved he was married. He immediately came to my room to admit it and confess his love for you. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I will never be able to trust that man now that I know he deceived me.”
Anne looks at Mrs. Chadwick suspiciously. Why did the old woman lie about the gift? “This is terrible,” Anne says. “What will happen next?”
“Gordon could not confront you with this until he settled his personal affairs. He is returning to France. He said that he believes his wife is now ready to grant him a divorce. In fact, his wife had written him just last week expressing a change of heart. Gordon wants to settle this matter legally, then return and ask your forgiveness. He still wants to marry you.”
“He does?”
“If you ask me, I’m against it. But I won’t stand in your way. I just ask you to consider the consequences of marrying a man like that.”
Anne stands up and walks to the mirror, too preoccupied to notice it is broken. She turns with an amazing calmness and looks at Mrs. Chadwick. “You would still let me marry Gordon?”
“My dear, how could I stop it? You are both adults.”
Anne walks back to the bed where she stands stiffly, staring at Mrs. Chadwick who waits for a response. Is Anne thinking about the Will? Is she taking the bait?
“A man like that—you’re right. I love him so much. But how could I ever trust him again?”
“There would be consequences,” Mrs. Chadwick
says again. So many consequences, which Anne must be considering right now. Will she choose love… or money?
“This is very hurtful,” Anne says, though her expression doesn’t show any pain. “And disappointing. I can’t forgive those kinds of lies. If he calls again, I will not see him. I will never marry him.”
Her anderun survival skills seem to have engaged. She cannot let any man have power over her. Survival means using any advantage, taking what you can get.
“A beautiful woman like you will find a good man, my dear. An honest man. Choose wisely, and you will be rewarded, I’m sure.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll get over it. I think I’ll go to my room now, this hasn’t been easy for me.”
“That’s fine, dear. Go now.”
Anne leaves. Mrs. Chadwick has her confirmation. She was right on both counts. Anne, too, is drawn to the money. She had never mentioned finding the Will, never confronted the lie about the gift. Still, Anne is a Chadwick, and if she can turn herself around, find a good man, and stay married…
Anne walks slowly down the corridor toward her room, traversing a large balcony that overlooks the foyer. Herbert Eaton, the reporter, standing below, writing a note to himself. He is not unattractive—a bit pale and shallow-chested, perhaps, but well-scrubbed and lacking the oily, slicked-back hair that Anne dislikes. He is pleasant enough, and during her interview for the Times article he was courteous and attentive.
As Anne studies him, he suddenly glances up, eyes brightening as he catches her shape in the half-shadow. “I say, there you are,” he says, hurling his voice upward. “Did you find Gordon?”
“I’m afraid not. He appears to have abandoned me.”
“What a pity. I wonder if you would like to take some air. All those pastries have fogged my brain.”
“I’d be delighted.”
The time for mourning has passed.
Chapter 12
With a heart aching unbearably for his son’s companionship, ‘Abdu’llah had set out weeks ago for Mashhad to visit his son, Jalal, at the madrisih. But the Turkoman had raided his caravan and only thirty of them had survived. ‘Abdu’llah’s arm was badly injured and has now turned septic. In a nearby village he seeks a physician but finds that the only man with any experience in medicine had been captured by the Turkoman—except for a young man of twenty, Assaf, who tends to the animals.
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