Bannerman Manor.
“No way,” I said in surprise. “These people are relatives of yours?”
“That’s what the letter says, and what the name of the manor would indicate,” Miles replied.
“But of course,” I considered. “There have to be more Bannermans out there! At one time, there were enough to warrant the size of the estate.”
“Going by the address, I’d say the relation goes further back than that,” Miles replied.
“With a house that size, they’re probably not seeking an opportunity to inherit, like Alfred Sullivan and George Frank,” I noted.
“Even if they were, they’d find their efforts to be no match for our combined abilities,” Miles remarked.
“That’s the truth,” I said. I took great comfort and satisfaction in that. “So… what’s the occasion? And what’s with the last name?”
“At some point in history, the heir to the Bannerman estate must have been a woman,” Miles replied.
“How did they find you?” I wondered. “It wasn’t through the genealogy site. Your results won’t be back for a couple more weeks, at least.”
After much urging on the part of Aunt Louise, and considerable discussion between ourselves and Grandma Polly, Miles decided to oblige, and register. As long as Grandma Polly chose not to do the same, there would be no inconsistencies in DNA to concern ourselves with. That was one of the benefits, I suppose, to having such an incredibly narrow family tree over the past century and a half. The downside, was the ease with which such a narrow tree could die off. If Miles didn’t return to take the place of Second-Miles, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. Miles was content with sharing my family, and starting one of our own someday, but he was still curious to know if he had any extended family out there, as he once did. Apparently, he did.
“News travels, as they say,” Miles answered. “The Carlisles’ public relations and house manager discovered the Foundation’s existence through an online search. She found ample information to link the Bannermans of Cedar Oaks, to the Bannermans who once lived at Bannerman Manor, and whom Sir Edmund Carlisle is a descendant of.”
“This is really amazing,” I declared, as he set aside the letter, then accepted the fork I still held, and half the platter. “How do you feel about it?”
Miles thought about that as he helped make a dent in the mountain of cake.
“Intrigued. I’d like to do some research of our own before we accept, but… if everything checks out, I’d like to take them up on their invitation.”
“Well then, assuming everything checks out, we will,” I replied.
I could only imagine what would happen, when we did.
Chapter 2
I woke to the tapping of keys, and the click of the laptop mousepad. Much as I wouldn’t mind a few more hours of sleep, curiosity insisted I open my eyes.
Instead of finding our room lit dimly by the glow of the laptop screen, it was illuminated softly by the sunlight that filtered between the slats of the blinds. It wasn’t nearly as early as it felt, after all.
“Did you find anything?” I asked, as I rolled over to look at Miles.
“I did,” he smiled.
“Then tell me,” I said curiously. I sat up, despite Night’s protests, the better to see the screen Miles turned toward me.
“This is Bannerman Manor, today,” Miles said. “Or perhaps I should say, in modern times.”
“Wow,” I commented, as I eagerly took in the details. “I wouldn’t say it looks like our estate, but it does look like an estate. Oh my goodness, is this the grounds?”
“It’s a garden, on the grounds,” Miles replied, as I studied the gorgeous roses, paved paths, and ancient looking statuary.
“It’s beautiful,” I approved. “What else did you learn?”
“Tours are offered to the public, on Wednesday and Friday afternoons,” Miles answered.
“Really?” I asked in surprise. “Don’t the Carlisles live there? Either that, or they don’t value their privacy, much.”
“The tour isn’t all encompassing,” Miles elaborated. “The manor isn’t as large as the House of Bannerman, but it’s still too large to manage in a couple of hours.”
“Who is this?”
“Ashley Fairgrave,” Miles answered, as I studied the smiling girl in the photo. She was probably in her mid-twenties, with blue-gray eyes. She wore her ash-blond hair in a shoulder length bob that fell just short of touching the lapels of her navy suit coat, and looked imminently capable. “She’s the Carlisles’ public relations and house manager.”
“So the Carlisles don’t live there?”
“They do,” Miles replied. “But, they also have a house manager.”
“Is that sort of like a caretaker?” I wondered.
“I suppose it might be,” Miles said. “She responded to the email we sent last night.”
“Do we fall under public relations?” I was a little surprised.
“Perhaps, but she assures us Lucinda and her son Edmund are looking very forward to our visit.”
“So we are going,” I said.
“Those were her words, or theirs, I suppose,” Miles replied. “Not mine. I’m not ready to pack up and leave, just yet. I’d like more information first. I’m sure we both would.”
“After what happened to Grandma Polly’s son, daughter-in-law, grandson, and then us, the thought of a Bannerman family reunion holds as much apprehension, as it does appeal. But, as you pointed out last night, our combined abilities are more than adequate to foil any plot waged against us.”
“Exactly, and google maps confirms the existence of Bannerman Manor,” Miles pointed out. “There are a number of legitimate articles about both it, and the public tours, which backs up the information on the website, and in the letter we received.”
“Hm. It’s kind of out in the middle of nowhere,” I remarked.
“I’d personally prefer not to walk to the nearest town, but by car it’s about fifteen minutes.”
“So what do you know about Lucinda and Edmund?” I asked. “What else did Ashley Fairgrave say in her email? And did you sleep at all?”
“In reverse order, yes, I slept. I also showered, shaved, walked the dogs, and I’m ready to head down to breakfast, whenever you are. So I propose answering your other questions as best I can, while you get ready, yourself. It’s Sunday, and not only do we have church services and class to attend, we’re having dinner with your family, after.”
“I accept your proposal,” I swiftly replied. I hurried to fulfill my end of the agreement, as Miles talked, read the email out loud, and then we both talked. We also had breakfast, went to church and class, then joined my family for dinner.
In the warmth of the midday sun, the icicles outside the dining room windows dripped steadily. Green points punctuated the flowerbed below, a sure sign the bulbs refused to wait any longer for spring. There might be more snow before its arrival, but at the rate it was melting, there wouldn’t be much left on which to build.
After we were all seated at the table with our drinks of choice, Dad said a prayer, we filled our plates, and lunch officially began.
“There’s no snow on the driveway,” Tryon hinted, with a glance at Miles. “Me and Ed shoveled it all off, yesterday.”
“Did you,” Miles smiled. “Then I suggest we try out the hoop, after we finish eating.”
“Yeah!” Tryon declared enthusiastically, and immediately set to work emptying his plate.
Ed quivered with excited anticipation, which left me wondering if he intended to play, too. His sister Lacey, clearly did not. She sat decorously beside my sister’s chair, every inch the lady, with a small pink bow behind one ear, and coordinating nail polish on both front and back paws.
“It’s wonderful having you back in town again,” Mom remarked.
“Yeah, it’s great,” I said, as I glanced at Miles. I hoped she’d take it well when she found out we were planning to leave the country
, soon. “We, uh, kind of have some news, though.”
Mom froze for a moment, then her suddenly piercing blue eyes locked onto me.
“You do. You have news?” she asked. If that was as nonchalantly as she could muster, it wasn’t very.
“Well… yes,” I said, feeling confused, and rather concerned.
“And what is this news?” my mother asked a little too calmly, as she looked from me, to Miles. I looked at him, too. I saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes, but probably all anyone else saw, was sympathy. What on earth was going on here?
“Yesterday, we discovered I have family that until then, we knew nothing about,” Miles said. Mom slapped her hand over her mouth, and he hurried on. “The relation is distant, dating from before the first Delevan Bannerman emigrated to this part of the country.”
“That’s really something,” Dad replied. He sounded genuinely intrigued. Mom looked as though she found the concept difficult to grasp.
“What?” I finally demanded. Mom looked at me and blinked, then waved away my one word expression of utter confusion.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” she declared.
I wasn’t sure what to say. Telling her that wasn’t the truth, probably wouldn’t go over well. Telling her the dog said we’d have a baby when the time was right, wouldn’t either. Not that she wouldn’t find it assuring. She’d be fully assured I lost my mind!
“Well, it’s… pretty exciting,” I said. “Even though Miles and I will make our own relatives someday, when we have kids, which we intend to do after we graduate.”
My sister made a strangled noise, which I chose not to acknowledge, and I continued.
“It’s kind of cool to know Miles’ family tree isn’t bare of branches, after all. Even if they are distant.”
“It is, it’s wonderful,” Mom agreed supportively, with a warning look at my sister. “How did you find them? Was it through the genealogy site?”
“No, Miles’ results won’t be in for at least a couple more weeks,” I replied. “And we didn’t find them.”
Crumbs, intentional or otherwise, were multiplying around my little brother’s chair. Ed swallowed hard, as he looked longingly from those, to my Mom.
“They found us, actually,” Miles said. “They wrote, and invited us to come visit.”
“That’s great,” Dad said approvingly.
Mom bit her lip as she watched Ed, and looked conflicted.
“Do you… let your dogs have crumbs?” she directed to Miles.
“I can’t say as we have crumbs,” Miles answered honestly.
“And why’s that?” Doreen asked, with an ornery gleam in her blue eyes. I felt like rolling mine.
“There’s no mess to clean up, if you don’t make one to begin with,” I replied.
It had nothing to do with Miles’ superpowers. And that was the truth!
“It’s up to you, what house rules to apply,” Miles said. “One thing to consider, though… they’d make great vacuums.”
Ed nodded. Ug! But I do not have to have an explanation for everything. I just don’t!
Apparently he nodded often enough, that the novelty wore off. Mom’s response was a nod of her own.
“Alright, Ed. And Lacey, you can help if you like.”
Ed immediately set to work ridding the floor of crumbs. Lacey considered the offer, then declined with a slight lift of her chin. She was much too refined for such work.
“Tell us more about your family,” Mom got the conversation back on track. “You said they found you, but not through the genealogy site.”
“How did they find you, then?” Doreen’s blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Ashley Fairgrave, the public relations and house manager for the Carlisles, found us through an internet search,” Miles replied, but Doreen’s eyebrows knit.
“How do you know you can trust her?”
“Anika and I have more research to do, before we pack our bags and board a plane,” Miles answered. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind helping us with that.”
For just a moment, Doreen’s eyes began to glow, and her blond curls bounced with enthusiasm.
Then, she reassumed her pre-teen nonchalance.
“Yeah, sure. If you want,” she said, as if it mattered not to her, either way.
“We do want,” Miles replied. “If there’s anything we absolutely must know, I’m confident you’ll find it.”
Doreen’s façade of indifference crumbled, and her eyes lit proudly.
“I will,” she promised.
“You said the Carlisles,” Dad prompted.
“Right, at some point in time there failed to be a male heir,” Miles replied. “It could have happened more than once. Despite the change in name, Bannerman Manor remained in the family.”
“Bannerman Manor,” Mom said, as she tried to imagine it.
The way my sister was focusing one eye on her lap, chances were good, she managed to sneak her iPad to the table.
“How do you know it stayed in the family?” Doreen challenged. “Maybe it was sold.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Miles conceded. “That is one possibility, though if that’s the case, the Carlisles don’t seem to know it. But, unless the property was sold, the owner died and left no heir, or a woman inherited and there was a divorce prior to the Married Women’s Property Act in 1882, then they’re probably right,” Miles answered.
“Property Act?” Doreen frowned.
“Until that time, any property belonging to or acquired by the wife, automatically became the sole property of her husband,” Miles replied.
“You’re kidding,” I said in surprise. “I mean, I know you’re telling the truth, but oh my word!”
“This was in England,” Miles added. “The US was somewhat more progressive. Most states recognized the wife as having a separate legal identity, and the right to control her own earnings and property, decades earlier than that.”
“What kind of nincompoop would ever think they didn’t!” Doreen’s eyes blazed.
“Those who agreed with you, came to outnumber those who didn’t, and the laws were changed,” Miles reiterated.
“Better late than never,” Mom decided.
“So if a Bannerman girl inherited the family estate before 1882, then got a divorce, her husband got to keep it?” Doreen demanded. “What if it was his fault?”
“Divorce was incredibly difficult to obtain, but yes,” Miles replied. “Not only the wife’s property, but any children they had would also be considered his. She would be left with nothing. It’s appalling, but fortunately, the laws were eventually changed.”
“Thank goodness,” Mom said with feeling. “But—how on earth do you know all this?”
Miles considered the question, then half-smiled.
“I recall my sister discussing it at length.”
Mom looked confused, but only briefly. Then she laughed, and rolled her eyes.
“That’s right, how could I forget? You were around back then, of course you’d know,” she said, and laughed again.
“Miles is really smart, and knows a lot,” I decided to add. Lest she calm down, and wonder again how on earth he managed to know that obscure fact. “He’s spent a lot of time studying history.”
Doreen practically snorted with laughter.
“Isn’t that the truth,” she shot him an ornery glance.
“Since your sister said it, it must be,” Miles smiled back.
“Bannerman Manor isn’t as big as the estate, but it still looks like a really cool place,” I decided to take back the conversation. “Show them the website.”
“Yes, dear,” Miles smiled. He removed his phone from his pocket and opened the webpage, then handed it to Mom. She and Dad both looked with interest.
“It’s gorgeous,” Mom declared, as they studied each photo.
“What an opportunity, to make the acquaintance of family you never knew you had,” Dad remarked.
“I’m looking forward to i
t. If everything checks out,” Miles said, with a glance at Doreen. She lowered her raised eyebrow, and got back to her iPad.
“We are,” I agreed. “We also know to be careful, after being the targets of a would-be usurper of inheritance.”
“More than one, and more than once,” Mom recalled. She and Dad both looked troubled by the reminder.
Doreen waved her hand, and we all looked at her as she read from the iPad she was no longer hiding.
“Sir Edwin Carlisle, of Bannerman Manor, died twelve years ago, at the age of sixty-three. He left behind his wife Lucinda, and their son Edmund. That was thoughtful of him, not to insist they come along,” she scowled. My sister wasn’t likely to forgive the British for their past transgressions, any time soon. “Here’s a picture of them… it matches the one on the website. They donate a lot to a children’s hospital, and have a big fundraiser every year, which they pay for themselves… I don’t think they’d do all that, if they were poor. Or in debt.”
“Wow,” I said. I was impressed. “That’s a lot you uncovered there, in what, a couple of minutes?”
“Very good, Detective Doreen,” Miles praised her, and she looked pleased. “Your web skills are unparalleled.”
“As everyone’s so fond of reminding me, I’m young,” Doreen replied a tad resentfully, with a glance at our parents.
“And as you’re so fond of reminding me, I’m not,” Miles smiled, and Doreen giggled.
Mom laughed. Because she thought he was joking!
“There’s a lot of articles about them,” Doreen added. “If this is a con, it’s a really long one. I feel comfortable concluding they do exist. They’re proud of the Bannerman connection, too. Sir William Bannerman—he was a knight, and his wife, Lady Frances—who owned absolutely nothing, and had no rights—had an only daughter, Evie. She married the son of Baronet—whatever that is—Sir Douglas Carlisle the second, and Lady Nora. Ooh, but they got married in 1901. So I guess Douglas Carlisle the third, could forget about snatching the family home out from under her.”
Ashes of Roses Page 4