by Ali McNamara
‘So that would be Violet and her family?’
‘Exactly.’
I think about this. ‘You said Violet had two sons. So it’s the eldest son we should be thinking about here – David?’
Benji nods. ‘Initially.’
‘And did he have any children?’
‘No, David died young of tuberculosis.’
‘Oh, what about George, then? Did he have any children?’
‘I believe so – at least one.’
‘So where are they now?’
‘That, I’m afraid, is where this puzzle annoyingly has its missing piece – in the form of George’s child.’
‘But there must be a record of their birth.’
‘Frustratingly, I can’t find one.’ Benji looks like he’s taking this as a personal failure.
‘Then how do you know there is a child? I say “a child” but how old would they be now? We’ve spoken about so many generations that I’ve lost track of how old they’d be.’
‘Difficult to say exactly how old, because even though there is a limited window of procreation for woman, in theory men can sometimes father children until they’re well into their seventies, sometimes even beyond that.’
‘Benji, try to keep on track please,’ I encourage him.
Benji nods. ‘So if George fathered a child with his wife, Louisa, then we’d be looking at a window of about twenty years.’
‘Twenty years!’
‘Yes, remember there was a lack of contraception back then, so women were having children commonly into their forties – especially if they had a big family. They didn’t always survive, but I’d say we’d be likely looking for a baby born in the late 1940s to early 1960s.’
‘But that’s a huge span of time, Benji. They could be, what, as old as seventy now or as young as fifty?’
‘Yes, as long as the child we’re looking for was conceived with his wife. But as I’ll go on to in a moment, I think it’s likely it was. However, what this child and any offspring of this child all have in common is that they as direct descendants of Mary would have more of a right to the castle and the title than you and Charlie do.’
I drain the last of my lemonade while I think.
‘But you said you couldn’t find any traces of them? Why not, if you can trace all these other Chesterfords?’
‘Strictly they’re not Chesterfords – none of them ever had the family name, for obvious reasons when you hark back to Clara’s sister, Mary.’
‘But why does the family tree stop at George? And how do you know he had a child if you can’t find any records of them?’
‘Because of this.’ Benji holds up an old newspaper clipping, yellowed with age and beginning to curl around the edges. ‘I found this in one of the family record books when I was researching for the tour guides. It was in with some information on staff in the castle at that time. Here,’ he passes me the paper, ‘read what it says.’
I take the clipping from him, looking at the photo from the article first. It’s a photo of a man, a woman and a baby. They are standing on a large expanse of grass with the castle in the background. I’d say from their dress the photo was taken in the late forties, maybe the early fifties. I begin to read what the copy says underneath the photo.
George Edwards (Chief Footman) and his wife, with their newborn baby after the fire.
‘Fire?’ I ask, looking at Benji.
‘Read on,’ Benji says.
The Chesterford family and their staff are thanking their lucky stars that a fire that began in the library of the castle last month was quickly intercepted by Chief Footman, George (above), and two of his fellow staff. The fire, which is thought to have been ignited by an incorrectly extinguished cigarette left burning in an ashtray, is said to have wiped out over half of the family’s extensive collection of books, and a wall that possessed records dating back some fifty years of many of the castle’s staff. The current Earl said, ‘We are incredibly grateful to George and his team for extinguishing the fire as quickly as they did. Without them, it might have gone on to cause significantly more damage to the many priceless works of art that we have here at Chesterford.’
‘So this is George?’ I say, looking at the faded photo again. ‘And is this the missing child?’
‘It could be. There’s no record of a child anywhere else that I can find, possibly because the castle records were destroyed in the fire. But this is our George, and in this photo he has a newborn baby. It could be the first of many or the only one. Like I say, for some reason official records seem to stop around now for George and his family. There’s nothing in the later census records for any of them, and the previous one doesn’t include a child.’
‘But if this child is still alive,’ I hold up the newspaper clipping, ‘then the chances are they are the rightful heir to Chesterford Castle?’
Benji nods. ‘Either them or possibly even their children. So now, Amelia, it falls to you to make the difficult decision.’
‘It does?’
‘Yes, somewhat like Clara, your ancestor before you, you have to decide whether to come clean about this new line of Chesterfords or keep quiet and retain the castle for yourself, and the title for your son.’
Thirty-nine
‘There’s no way I can keep quiet about this, can I?’ I say to an expectant Benji, as I pace about the top floor of the tower. ‘It wouldn’t be right.’
‘Clara did,’ Benji says pragmatically. ‘She knew it was in her best interests to keep quiet about Mary.’
‘Well, Clara and I are very different breeds of Chesterford then. I can’t possibly take away someone’s right to all this.’ I gesture out of the window at the castle below. ‘If this isn’t rightfully mine and Charlie’s, then we’ll have to move out.’
As I’m saying this, an awful feeling of dread begins to spread right through me.
‘Are you sure?’ Benji asks. ‘You’re doing great things here, Amelia. Perhaps you are the right Chesterford to take the castle on.’
I turn away from the window to look at Benji.
‘Do you want to go back to the estate?’ he continues. ‘What about Charlie? You’ve told me several times how well he’s doing since he came here. Is it in his best interests to make him leave his new home and move elsewhere again?’
I think about Charlie now. Benji is right, he’s been doing incredibly well since we came to live here; he’s definitely happier, and he’s doing so much better at school. By making him move again I’d likely be affecting his future too, not only my own.
‘Perhaps you should think about it,’ Benji says softly. ‘And you’re forgetting one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘We don’t even know if George’s baby is still alive. I hate to sound morbid, but the fire the newspaper is referring to took place in 1952. That baby would be around sixty-seven years old now – things happen.’
‘That is morbid, Benji,’ I tell him. ‘You spend too much time reading about death.’
‘I speak only the truth,’ Benji says, shrugging.
‘Even if they have passed away,’ I concede, ‘they might have had children of their own, so then one of them would be the rightful Chesterford heir.’
Benji sighs. ‘All right then, even if either the baby or one of their imaginary children is still alive, the chances of me finding him or her are minimal. Remember how long it took me to find you – and that’s when I actually wanted to.’
I stare hard at Benji, and he returns my gaze with one just as steely.
‘I like you being here, Amelia,’ he says. ‘A lot of people like you being here. You’ve done a tremendous amount of good, not only to the castle but to yourself and your family, too. If you want my opinion, I think you should forget all about this diary, all about Mary and her offspring, and continue doing what you already are – making sure that this castle remains here for another few centuries to come. That’s all any Chesterford has ever aimed to do, and I think makes you the be
st person to look after this castle that there could ever be.’
‘Thank you, Benji,’ I say, blinking back the tears that have formed in the corner of my eyes. ‘That’s a lovely thing for you to say, really it is, but I need to think about this. The Chesterfords seem to be a mixed bunch – some of them honourable people, some of them not so much.’ I think about Clara again. ‘But what I do know is that I am an honourable person, and what you’re asking me to do goes against all my principles.’
‘I know that,’ Benji says, ‘but I beg you to give this some serious thought, Amelia. What you decide won’t just affect you and Charlie, it will affect everyone else in your castle family as well. You should consider them, too, when you make your decision.’
‘Are you okay, Mum?’ Charlie asks me later when he’s getting ready for bed. ‘You’ve been very quiet tonight.’
After Benji dropped his bombshell, I spent the rest of the afternoon pacing around the castle trying to decide what to do. I knew what the right thing was; but like Benji had pointed out, was that the best thing for everyone?
On my travels I’d watched Joey toiling happily in the gardens, Tom studiously polishing a mahogany table until you could virtually see his reflection in it, Dorothy in the kitchens making iced cup-cakes for everyone’s tea because ‘Master Charlie had asked so nicely for them’ and Tiffany cheerfully in charge of the office while Arthur was away. I’d even stood and watched some visitors wander around the Great Hall, and I’d enjoyed for once their funny comments and often naive observations at what they found there.
Everyone had been doing what they always did. But what had struck me today for the first time was how happy everyone was doing it.
‘Come and sit down,’ I say to Charlie, patting the sofa next to me. ‘I want to ask you something.’
‘Yes?’ Charlie says cautiously as he sits down. ‘What have I done?’
‘You haven’t done anything,’ I tell him. ‘I’m not going to scold you. Now we’ve been living here at Chesterford for a while, I want to ask you how you like it.’
Charlie still looks a tad suspicious, but he puts on his ‘thinking’ face. ‘I like it,’ he says succinctly. Then he looks at me as though that should be enough.
‘You like it, is that all?’
Charlie nods. ‘What more do you want? It’s cool living here – much better than the flat was.’
‘Yes,’ I smile, ‘it is a little bit better than the flat.’
‘I like the people we live with, too. Because we’ve moved around a lot, we’ve never really made many friends, have we? I mean, I’ve made friends at school, but you don’t make many friends, Mum, and I think you have friends here at the castle, friends that make you happy.’
‘Yes, I think I have friends here too.’ I’m touched Charlie is thinking about me in this.
‘Actually, the people we live with here feel like more than just friends; they feel like my family. Because I’ve never really had much of those either, have I?’
‘No, I don’t suppose you have.’
‘I mean, I know I must have some family somewhere, but we don’t ever see them, do we? And I know I have a dad, but I never see him either.’
To Charlie’s credit, he doesn’t say this last part at all accusingly. He just states it as a fact.
‘No, I’m afraid you don’t. I’m sorry about that.’
‘It’s okay.’ Charlie shrugs. ‘Now we live here I sort of have a surrogate family, don’t I?’
I’m surprised Charlie even knows the word surrogate, let alone how to use it in the correct way.
‘I have Dorothy and Arthur, who are sort of like a granddad and grandma to me, and I have Joey and Tiffany, who are like a big brother and sister. Benji is like my fun uncle and Tom . . . ’ He hesitates for the first time. ‘Well, I think if you like him as much as he likes you, he might become my new dad in the future.’
My cheeks immediately flush a shade I can only imagine is a bright crimson. ‘What makes you say that?’ I try to ask as casually as possible. ‘Has Tom said something to you?’
‘Not really, but I know he likes you – a lot. Sometimes when we’re together he asks me about you and stuff.’
‘Oh, does he?’
‘Yeah, just things like what you like and if you ever talk about him.’
‘I see.’
‘But only in a good way,’ Charlie insists, seeing my face. ‘Don’t be cross with him, Mum.’
‘I’m not cross. I like Tom too; very much, actually.’
‘Good, because I don’t want to have to leave here and go somewhere else. I like living at Chesterford Castle, and most of all I really love my new family.’
I tuck Charlie up in his bed and kiss him goodnight. Then I wander through to the lounge and stare out of the window at the sun setting over the beach.
What Charlie said tonight has affected me in several ways. Not just what he said about Tom, flattering though that was, but mainly what he said about having a brand-new family.
From the day Charlie was born I’ve tried to give him everything, and until I became a single mother and we had to move out of our big house and into a series of council flats, I thought I’d been doing pretty well at it.
Even then I tried to not have him want for anything, as difficult as that was. But what I haven’t been able to provide him with, and what I realise he’s been longing for all this time, is a stable home and a family. And now it seems that Chesterford Castle has given him both of those things.
What right do I have to take that away from him?
But what right do I have to take it away from someone else?
Forty
‘Did you read it?’ Benji asks me the next morning. ‘The diary, I mean.’
‘Of course I read it. I was up until the early hours reading it.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘I think we should be talking about this somewhere no one else can hear us.’
I guide Benji away from the kitchen where he and the others have just had their breakfast. Charlie had also joined them this morning, but I hadn’t really felt that hungry, so I’d politely declined Dorothy’s kind offer of pancakes, fruit and maple syrup.
‘Perhaps I was a bit harsh on Clara,’ I tell him, when I think we’re safely out of earshot. ‘It appears she did feel some remorse for her course of action, and she did talk very kindly of both Mary and her children, and how she wouldn’t see them go without.’
‘See, I told you. She did the right thing for her . . . ’ Benji looks hopefully at me.
‘I know what you’re hinting at, Benji, and I’m sorry to inform you that I still haven’t made my final decision yet.’
‘Oh.’ His face falls.
‘I think we should at least try to find this child of George’s, and then I’ll decide what to do next.’
‘Based on what? Whether he or she needs to inherit, or is even worthy of inheriting, an ancient castle by the sea in Northumberland?’
‘No, not that at all. I don’t know what I’ll base my decision on, but I think we have to find them before we do anything else.’
‘All right then,’ Benji concedes. ‘I’m guessing you want me to be the one to do the searching?’
‘Would you? But before you start I think I may have something else for us to go on.’
‘What’s that?’
‘This.’ I hold up the velvet pouch that we’d found in the cellar along with the diary.
‘What’s that?’ Benji asks.
‘It’s a brooch.’ I tip the cameo on to the palm of my hand. ‘I think it must have belonged to Clara. It was with the diary, locked away in the chest where we found lots of her other things.’ I’d thought at the time that it was odd that servants’ clothes were packed away with Clara’s things. Now I realise they probably belonged to her sister, Mary.
‘It looks expensive,’ Benji says, examining the brooch.
‘Tom thinks it might be worth quite a bit, but I’m not concerned with
that right now. What is important is that Clara mentions this brooch in her diary. She says she had two pieces of jewellery commissioned: one, this cameo, was carved into a likeness of her. The other was a pendant and bore a likeness of her sister. Clara kept the brooch, but she gave the pendant to Mary on a chain, claiming it was a thank-you gift for being her lady’s maid. She insisted to Mary that if she was ever in need she should sell the pendant and use the money. But Mary apparently was so moved by the gesture that she promised to keep it for ever and pass it down through her family, so they would all know the kindness of Clara, Countess of Chesterford.’
Benji stares at me with a wrinkled forehead, trying to take all this in. ‘Yes, I remember reading that. But because I didn’t know we had the brooch, I didn’t see it as important at the time. So if a matching pendant to this was passed down through Mary’s family, and has never been sold, then the new heir would probably own it now?’
‘Yep, that’s what I’m hoping.’
Benji nods. ‘This is good. If we do need a way to clarify that we’ve got the right person, we can see if they have, or someone in their family has the pendant. But I still maintain we have to find them first,’ he insists. ‘And that is not going to be easy.’
‘If anyone can do it, you can, Benji. Please?’ I gaze imploringly at him when he still looks doubtful. ‘I know you don’t really want to, but for me?’
‘All right then,’ he begrudgingly agrees. ‘But I want it on record that this is against my better judgement.’
‘What are you two in cahoots about?’ Tom asks, suddenly popping up next to us and making us both jump. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d be jealous seeing the two of you whispering away to each other.’
