“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 that 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.
Back in the carriage Englebert sat close with his arm around her shoulder, pretending to be fatherly; yet his rapid breathing gave him away. He was aroused by her closeness. Christabel felt numb and incapable of any feeling or speech and lay back against his arm feeling his hard fingers pressing against her. At that moment she did not care what he did; her life was in pieces and she was an easy target for all of the predators around her.
***
Without the safety net of Mrs Hudson and Stephens around, Englebert felt emboldened. Christabel was homeless and penniless. The young ward had been the subject of his lust and fantasy for years and now she was practically his. His cock was already stiff within his trousers and his hand slipped up to her breast. At first her body stiffened, it was after all the hand of Englebert Williams, but as he squeezed and fondled her in the confines of the carriage, she started to feel strangely aroused. Feeling her nipples start to respond and harden beneath his touch the older man felt encouraged. She closed her eyes and imagined Mr Crawley’s face before her.
"My poor Christabel. You don't need to worry about a thing. You are safe with me. Now how about a little kiss for your guardian?" Reaching across he straddled her with his leg, pushing his groin against her, his face red and close; lips wet and open.
His mouth was upon hers; greedy and slippery. It was not like the kiss of Charles; it was firm and demanding and she felt a little repulsed by the wetness of his mouth; his soft tongue slobbering against her own. His hand was upon her skirts, reaching up towards the top of her stocking and towards the flesh of her exposed inner thigh. Grinding his crotch against her leg, he let out a low moan as he quickly reached his climax and almost immediately pulled away from her. Flopping back into the carriage seat he sprawled, red faced and sweating; all his sexual cravings spent.
Luckily the drive home was short and a kiss and fondle were all that he had time for. Still, the experience had left her a little breathless and had done nothing to ease her desire, even if it was just Englebert.
“Now my dear, this morning has been a shock to you. I suggest you go and lie down to rest for a few hours and then you will feel a little better. I will wait in the house for you and perhaps we can take dinner together a little later to discuss our plans?”
Christabel flinched at the emphasis on ‘our’ plans. She needed time on her own, time to think, and all of this was impossible with Englebert constantly whispering in her ear. “Don’t come in Englebert, I will be fine. I don’t want anything more disturbing today. Go home, and perhaps we can talk later in the week. I just want some time on my own.”
Englebert shrugged and removed his arm, in a few weeks she would have nowhere else to go and would depend entirely upon him. He could afford to wait. “Not a problem, my dear, but I will call on you tomorrow to see how you are doing. Do not worry and try to rest. I will look after you.”
Kissing her hand, he helped her out of the carriage, his hand patting her bottom as she navigated the steps to the stones, and he continued to watch until she was safely inside. She looked so young and beautiful, so vulnerable. Soon she would be all his!
***
Hannah greeted her young mistress in the hallway, and as soon as the front door was closed Christabel burst
into tears. The two women headed quickly upstairs to the safety of her bedroom and out of earshot of the servants; although they would soon hear of her plight and all of the gossip when Stephens and Hudson returned.
“Oh Hannah; what am I going to do? Even Mrs. Hudson will have more money than I shall. Englebert is coming to see me tomorrow and shall ask for my hand, I know he shall! And I won’t be in a position to refuse.” Christabel sobbed gently on the bed whilst Hannah cradled the poor girl in her arms.
“There must be another way my love; something will happen. If Mr. Williams does propose marriage then you will have to tell him it is too soon after Charles’s death, that you are still grieving. That will put him off for a while; at least to give you time to think.”
“But I have no other options Hannah. This Mr. Crawley has dashed any hopes that I might have had.”
“What is he like?” Hannah’s question was innocent but caused Christabel to blush.
“He’s quite young.”
“And attractive?” Hannah smiled at the young woman’s reaction.
“Hannah – we hardly know the man; he may be an imposter for all we know. Edward certainly hinted at the fact and even suggested that he and Arthur were colluding together and possibly had something to do with poor Charles death.”
Hannah frowned “Surely that is Edward speaking out of anger; he has no proof of this?”
“Nothing concrete, but it is strange, Edward was almost accusing poor Arthur of being involved in some kind of fraud. We know that he has gambling debts and who knows what else? I don’t particularly like Arthur, but I can’t imagine that he would be mixed up in all of this, even if he does need the money. Charles did leave him a more than generous provision in his will. Oh Hannah, I don’t know what to think!”
Sitting down on the bed next to her mistress, Hannah looked thoughtful for a moment. “Sometimes people say hurtful things under pressure, but if it is true about the money, then it does appear strange. I will keep my ears open in the servant’s quarters, you know how they love to gossip and just maybe someone has heard something. If your husband’s death was suspicious, then it may affect the content of his will; who knows what might happen?”
Leaving her young mistress to sleep, Hannah made her way back downstairs. She had heard Stephens and Hudson enter the house and the kitchen would be full of idle gossip. Maybe she would hear something to Christabel’s advantage.
As soon as she entered the kitchen, the buzz of voices quieted. Like the young mistress, she too, was an interloper and was not trusted by the older members of staff. Although polite, Mrs. Hudson was always stiff towards her and Stephens was a man of few words. As Christabel’s personal maid she didn’t have many dealings with the general run of the household and could keep herself much to herself for most of the day, but at mealtimes she would join the rest of them, taking her seat at the end of the table and making polite conversation.
Mrs. Hudson was now seated in front of the kitchen fire, sipping on a nip of brandy, her feet propped up on a small stool. The woman wasn’t old, perhaps late forties or early fifties, but she often complained of this pain or that ache and her feet seemed to be constantly swollen and giving her grievance. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she had been crying again, the two younger kitchen maids standing around her wide eyed. Mrs. Hudson had obviously been recounting the tale of the morning events.
Hannah was surprised that the woman still seemed to be grieving for her late master; she had considered the woman to be quite cold and heartless, without much feeling; perhaps she had been wrong. She thought the housekeeper would be celebrating her good fortune, but perhaps she had not told the good news to the rest of staff, and both were keeping their windfall a secret.
“We were just saying, Miss Simpson, what a shame it is for the young mistress. A terrible business on all accounts.” Mrs. Hudson was not interested in the mistress, only in further tittle-tattle and Hannah was not going to add to their gossip.
“It is indeed Mrs. Hudson.”
“So what is the young mistress going to do now that we have a new master?”
Hannah frowned “Nothing is for certain yet, Mrs. Hudson. There are still a number of legal procedures to go through and who knows what might happen?” She had already said too much and stopped. There was enough idle gossip around.
Mrs. Hudson sighed; she was not going to get anymore out of Hannah and changed the subject. “Well I suppose we had better look to making some lunch. I, for one, am in need of some sustenance after such a morning. Look lively Ruth, Daisy, there’s potatoes to be peeled and onions to be chopped.”
The two young kitchen maids immediately started to prepare for their chores; they were simple yet honest girls and were ruled with a rod of iron by the steely Mrs. Hudson.
“Oh, Mrs. Hudson, I quite forgot.” Fishing a crumpled envelope out of her apron pocket, Daisy handed the letter over to the older woman. Mrs. Hudson studied the envelope carefully, her expression suddenly changing to one of shock.
“Who brought this?” She almost barked at the poor, timid girl. The envelope had no postage stamp and only her name was written in a scrawled ink on the front of the envelope. It had obviously not been delivered by the postman.
“A young man called this morning and he asked me to give you this and to say that he would call back later today.”
“His name?”
The young girl was visibly shaking. “I don’t know Mrs. Hudson; he didn’t say.”
Dismissing the girl with a cuff around the ear, Mrs. Hudson stuffed the envelope into her apron pocket and looked around. All eyes were watching the scene.
“Well, what are you all gawping at? Daisy, Ruth, get on with your chores, or it will be time for supper, let alone lunch. I must go and speak with Mr. Stephens.”
All through lunch, Mrs. Hudson was quiet, which was most unlike her. Hannah wished she could find out what was in the letter, but it would be almost impossible. The young girl had mentioned that the young man might call back – she would keep on the lookout.
After her own lunch, she took a tray up to Christabel. The young girl was wide awake and sat up in bed – she looked relieved at the sight of her maid and some color had returned to her cheeks. Hannah chatted whilst Christabel ate, telling her the news from below stairs.
“What if Mrs. Hudson’s young man and Mr. Crawley are one in the same?”
Hannah shook her head. “I doubt it, he was with you at the solicitors all morning and besides, Mrs. Hudson would have spoken to him then, surely?”
Christabel thought hard. “I suppose so. It doesn’t make sense and yet, he was the first to leave. He did seem in a hurry. I thought it was because Edward was getting angry, but maybe it was something else, maybe he left early to come here?”
“But how on earth would Mrs. Hudson know Mr. Crawley?”
Shaking her head, the younger woman sighed “We shall both have to be vigilant Hannah, and see what we can find out.”
Chapter Four
By the time Hannah returned downstairs a couple of hours had passed. Returning the young mistress’ luncheon tray to the kitchen, she was about to retire to her room for a while when she heard someone weeping. The sound was coming from a small room at the back of the kitchen that was kept for the sole use of Mrs. Hudson. Hannah hovered outside the doorway, wondering what to do. The housekeeper was prickly at the best of times, but she sounded so upset. Knocking gently, Hannah opened the door slightly and peered inside.
Mrs. Hudson was sat at her desk, the one where she usually sat every evening with a tot of brandy, pouring over the household accounts. Now she sat, miserably hunched over the dark wood, a letter crumpled on the surface and an old sepia photograph in her hand. On seeing Hannah, she sat up quickly in an attempt to pull herself together, quickly pushing the letter and photograph inside one of the desk drawers.
Despite her obvious discomfort she scowled fiercely at Hannah; annoyed that someone had witnessed her moment of weakness. "Yes Miss S
impson, is there something I can help you with?"
Hannah sighed. Why did the woman always have to be so cold towards her? They should be comrades in arms rather than enemies. "I just thought I heard something Mrs. Hudson and I wanted to check, to see if you were all right?"
The woman blew her nose on a delicate lace handkerchief that didn't look very practical and looked at Hannah through cold blue eyes. "Of course I'm all right. I'm perfectly all right. Why shouldn't I be?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you Mrs. Hudson." Hannah felt suitably chastised and closing the door behind her, stepped back upstairs. Something was definitely wrong and she had to find out what it was. Mrs. Hudson was not easily upset and it all seemed to be too much of a coincidence. Could there possibly be a connection with Lord Montgomery’s death? She would have to bide her time.
Later that afternoon, when the kitchen was quiet, Hannah ventured back downstairs. Both of the kitchen girls had gone off into town, having been given their half day leave early; there was not much work to be done with only the mistress at home now. Mrs. Hudson was at the market, sorting out the menu for the week, while Stephens was in the master’s room, organizing the clothing to be stored, donated, or thrown away.
Crossing over the empty kitchen, Hannah hesitated outside the door of the housekeeper’s room. Her throat was dry and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. Normally, she would not dream of prying into someone else's business, but it was something she had to do for the sake of her poor mistress.
Placing her head near to the door she listened carefully; all was quiet within. Glancing around to make certain she was alone, Hannah pushed slowly on the door.
There were no windows in the room and at first it was difficult to see. Opening the door wider to let in more light, she crossed over to the desk. What if it were locked? She would have risked being caught for nothing.
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