Lady Hartley's Inheritance

by Wendy Soliman

  “Calm yourself, my dear Lady Hartley.” Twining took her hand and patted it as though she was a small child. “Again, our thoughts are in accord; but this claim must be investigated, I’m afraid. There’s no avoiding that. But before we go any further I thought it best to discuss the matter with you. I could have come to Northumberland and saved you the trouble of travelling south, but Salik’s in London, so I think it would be wise for you to meet him and give me your impression.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Clarissa had no desire whatsoever to meet the man.

  “Salik himself is keen to make your acquaintance. However, if you think it will overset you I shall put him off.”

  Clarissa took a moment to reason the matter through. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “I feel sure I shall know, as soon as I look at Mr. Salik, whether or not he’s related to my husband. But what of the will itself? What can we do to authenticate that?”

  “Well, I’ve already had a translation made into English. It’s a simple document, saying just what Salik told me it did. But that in itself means nothing. The next step is to get an expert to authenticate your husband’s signature. To my naked eye it does, I’m distressed to say, look genuine, but I’m by no means an expert. Once we’ve cleared that hurdle we then must — ” Twining leapt up. “My dear Lady Hartley, you look quite unwell. Pray allow me to call a cab to take you back to your hotel. We can continue this discussion when you have recovered from the shock of these terrible revelations.”

  Clarissa took a sip of water and made a huge effort to control herself. This just couldn’t be happening. There must be a simple explanation — some sort of mistake, a misunderstanding, something of that nature! Surely God wouldn’t be cruel enough to deprive her of her land now? Not after all her hard work, and just when she was starting, at last, to enjoy some success?

  “No, Mr. Twining.” To her own ears her voice sounded as though it was coming from a long distance away. “I must know it all. If Mr. Salik’s claim proves to be genuine what happens then?”

  “Well, I fear he will be entitled to take possession of Fairlands, and you will be beholden to him for a roof over your head.”

  “No!”

  Clarissa’s throat constricted, and she was unable to utter more than that one agonised word. For the first time in her life she felt in danger of fainting. She countered the dizziness by forcing herself to hold back the tears that threatened. She refused to cry in front of Mr. Twining. But feelings of anguish and devastation ran riot inside her head, even her supposedly irrepressible strength faltering in the face of such a possibility.

  “Lady Hartley — Clarissa.” Twining stood in front of her, clutching his lapels and clearing his throat noisily. “I know this is not a good time to bring this subject up. I realise too that on the previous occasion when I opened my heart to you my timing couldn’t have been worse. You must, however, allow me to assure you that my love for you has never faltered. If you will consent to be my wife, then I will relinquish my other duties and devote every second of my time to finding a resolution to this problem. As it is…” His words trailed off and he indicated the huge pile of papers sitting on his desk.

  “Thank you, Mr. Twining, but I don’t intend to marry again.”

  “Oh come, come, my dear. A beautiful young lady such as yourself, all alone in the world? That cannot be. You need a gentleman to protect you and look out for your interests. You can’t be expected to find your own way through this mess alone. It would be enough to overset the most robust constitution. Besides, no lady should be expected to trouble her head with such a business. It’s not at all fitting. Only a man could be expected to fully comprehend its complexities.”

  Twining seemed unaware that he was being excessively patronising.

  “Who better than me to look after you? I have, after all, known you for your entire life, and pride myself on understanding your character. No, I won’t accept your answer now, since you’re too overset to think straight. I beg you only to consider the matter when you are feeling calmer. We will talk again at that time.”

  He beamed and attempted to reclaim her hand, but this time she was ready for him and removed it from his reach.

  “I won’t change my mind, Mr. Twining.”

  “You’re in shock and don’t know your own mind at present. You’ll see things differently when you’ve had time for quiet contemplation.”

  “What happens about this supposed will now, Mr. Twining?” Clarissa asked, anxious to deflect his attention away from his marital aspirations.

  “Well, as I said, I’m arranging for the signature to be authenticated. I’ll advise you when that’s been done and we’ll discuss the matter further in the light of our expert’s findings. In the meantime, I would suggest that we move Salik to more comfortable lodgings. He has limited funds, and at present is residing in a very disreputable boarding house. I would suggest that we move him to Durrant’s hotel in Marylebone. It’s convenient and the estate can easily afford it. In the unlikely event that this will does prove to be genuine, I feel persuaded that Salik will look kindly upon your willingness to offer him reasonable lodgings in the interim.”

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Twining, if you think it best. Perhaps you will make the necessary arrangements.”

  “Of course. Now, my dear, at which hotel are you residing? I will call a cab for you.”

  “I’m not in a hotel, Mr. Twining, I’m staying with my godmother.”

  “Are you, indeed?” Twining appeared taken aback. “I wasn’t aware that you had relatives in London — or, indeed, anywhere. But I’m sure it will be a great comfort to have female company at this most distressing time. Now, about that cab?”

  “Don’t concern yourself, Mr. Twining. I have my carriage.”

  Luc’s concentration was interrupted by a brisk knock on his library door. A sense of foreboding overtook him when he looked up and saw who hovered in the aperture.

  “Excuse the interruption, my lord. I’m Agnes, Lady Hartley’s maid.” She bobbed a curtsey. “I was wondering if you knew when Lady Deverill is likely to return home?”

  “Not for an hour or so yet. Is there some difficulty?”

  “Well, yes, I rather think there is.”

  Luc looked at Agnes properly and realised that her old face was creased at least as much with concern as it was with age. “What is it?”

  “Well, my lord, it’s Lady Hartley. I’m most concerned about her. She returned from seeing her legal man above half-an-hour ago. Since then she’s just sat in a chair staring into space and won’t say what’s wrong. I’m right worried about her, and thought her ladyship might know what to do.”

  Luc was already halfway out of his seat. “Let’s see if I can do anything.”

  Luc took the stairs two at a time, Agnes scurrying at his heels. He entered Lady Hartley’s chamber to find her sitting bolt upright and staring straight ahead. She was deathly pale, her eyes dull and lifeless. Luc sat beside her and took one of her hands in both of his. It was as cold as the grave, and he rubbed it briskly between his palms in an effort to infuse some warmth into her.

  “What is it, Clarissa?” he asked, unconsciously using her name for the first time. “What’s happened to overset you so?”

  Taking her hand appeared to draw her out of her introspective state. She blinked at him, as though only just realising he was there. “It’s all gone,” she said flatly. “Everything I’ve worked for is gone.”

  Luc thought she would elucidate. Instead she continued to stare at him and repeat the same phrase over and over again.

  “Run back down to the library, Agnes, and bring back the brandy decanter and a glass. Lady Hartley’s in shock.”

  Agnes did as he asked, and returned a very short time later, out of breath, the decanter and glass in hand. Luc poured a strong measure and placed his arm around Clarissa’s shoulders, the glass to her lips.

  “Drink this, Clarissa. It will make you feel better.”

  “Noth
ing will make me feel better.”

  But she took a sip anyway — and choked on it. Luc patted her back and made her take a taste more. Slowly, a little colour returned to her face, and she appeared to be conscious of her surroundings.

  “Oh, my lady, you gave me such a turn! Are you all right? What happened?”

  “No, Agnes, I’m definitely not all right. I’ll never be right again.”

  “Tell us what happened, Clarissa,” Luc said. “What can I do to be of service to you?”

  “No one can do anything to help me. I’ve lost it all.” In a slow, emotionless monotone, she told them everything that Twining had said to her.

  “Oh, God above, no!” Agnes’s hand flew to her face, and she looked as though she could do with a shot of brandy herself. “It can’t possibly be.”

  “I’m afraid it can, Agnes, and God, it would seem, has very little to do with it.” She shook her head. “Everything I’ve worked to achieve has been for nought.”

  Relating the particulars of her meeting with Twining unlocked the floodgates. Tears poured unchecked down her face. Luc’s arm was still around her shoulders. He pulled her head against his chest and, not knowing what else to do, simply allowed her to cry. She did so — uninhibitedly — thoroughly soaking his shirt in the process. Her wretched sobs echoed round the chamber, demonstrating the extent of her broken heart more eloquently than a thousand words. Luc felt helpless and superfluous, feelings to which he was unaccustomed.

  As Clarissa cried, half-baked suspicions about the wretched business worked their way into his brain. There was something not quite right about the whole sorry affair.

  Eventually Clarissa’s tears dried up and Luc offered her his handkerchief.

  “Thank you.” She offered him a watery smile as she mopped her face dry. “More brandy please.”

  Luc poured her a measure and she knocked it back in one mouthful.

  “She never could take strong drink,” Agnes warned.

  Luc refilled the glass.

  “What will you do now, my lady?” Agnes asked.

  “Until this is sorted out you mean? What I’ve always done, I suppose, Agnes. I’ll work. That way I don’t have to think. Or feel. And if I work hard enough I can fall into bed and sleep without dreaming. It works…hic…I should know, I’ve done it often enough.”

  Luc felt an excoriating anger course through him as he observed Clarissa valiantly try to regain her strength and purpose. His anger was directed toward the perpetrators of this outrage — people whose acquaintance he resolved to make in the very near future.

  “Come on, m’dear, have another sip. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “Are you…hic…trying to get me intoxicated? Whoops!” She giggled as brandy slopped over her hand.

  “Perhaps she should lay down for a little rest, my lord?” Agnes suggested.

  “Don’t want to lay down…hic…oops! Want to be a flutter…blutter…a flutterby. Can I be your butterfly, Lukie? Then I could fly away from this mess.”

  “You can be anything you want to be. It just takes imagination, remember? Come along now, it’s time to rest.”

  The brandy had hit her hard. She was giggling uncontrollably, babbling incoherently about being a butterfly, and she was incapable of standing up. Luc swept her into his arms and headed for the huge tester bed.

  “You can’t…hic…pick me up. I’m too heavy.”

  “Not for me, you’re not.” He carried her effortlessly, as if to prove his point, and set her down on the side of the bed.

  “You want to take me to bed.” She shook a finger vaguely in his direction. “Know all about you. Not to be trusted. Everyone says so.”

  Luc laughed. “Do they, now?”

  “Yesh. I know your game. Don’t think I don’t.”

  “I can manage her now, my lord.” Agnes looked disapproving.

  “Hum, I’m not sure about that. She’s very unsteady.”

  Clarissa obliged him by almost sliding off the bed. Swiftly Luc unwound Clarissa’s golden hair and brushed his fingers through its lush thickness. Then, ignoring Agnes’s outraged expression, he loosened her pelisse and removed it. With a skill born of many years experience he loosened the ties to her gown as well and slipped it from her shoulders. He lifted her from the bed whilst Agnes, rigid with disapproval, pulled the garment away from her mistress’s legs. Clarissa was humming a sad little lament, clearly unaware of what was happening to her. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Luc’s neck, giggling.

  “You’re very handsome, Lukie,” she slurred. “I want to be handsome too.”

  “Oh you are, m’dear. You most certainly are.”

  “Can I be a flutterby too?”

  Clarissa was reduced to her chemise, petticoats, and stockings. Agnes pointedly stated that her ladyship could very well rest dressed as she was, and struggled to pull the covers over her. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Luc was unable to suppress a smile. He lifted Clarissa into bed, surprising himself by taking no more than a fleeting look at her delectable body in its state of semi-undress. He dropped a light kiss on her brow and straightened himself up.

  “You…hic…are no gentleman,” complained Clarissa, before promptly passing out.

  Luc brushed a strand of hair away from her brow and turned to Agnes. “Stay with her; she shouldn’t be left alone in this state. When my mother returns I’ll ask her to share the burden with you.”

  “It’s no burden, my lord. She’s my life.”

  “In the morning I’ll come to see her again. By then she’ll have recovered from the shock and we can discuss how best to resolve this wretched situation.”

  “You’re of the opinion that it can be resolved then, my lord?” Hope flared in the old lady’s eyes.

  “It’s a little convenient, don’t you think, Agnes? This supposed son of Sir Michael’s suddenly appearing just at a time when Twining supposed your mistress to be alone and unprotected in this world?”

  “Well, my lord, since you put it like that, I suppose you could be right. Mind you, I never did like that Twining myself, and couldn’t comprehend why the gentlemen trusted him so implicitly.” She scowled. “He has shifty eyes.”

  Luc choked on a laugh. “Call me at once if she gives you any more concerns. I’ll cancel my plans and dine at home this evening, just in case.”

  “You’d inconvenience yourself to that extent, my lord?”

  “She’s a guest in my house, and whilst here I’m responsible for her welfare.”

  “You know,” Agnes said reflectively. “She loves that land and those sheep above everything. Today is only the second time in her entire adult life that I’ve seen her cry. The first time was when her father died, and I thought then that she’d never stop.”

  “She didn’t shed a tear at the passing of her husband then?”

  “No. Oh, she was sad, but composed, and carried on for the sake of the rest of us.”

  “I see.” Luc absorbed this information without further comment and stored it away for examination at a more appropriate time. “All right, Agnes, I shall be in my library if you have need of me.”

  Chapter Seven

  As Luc made his way to Clarissa’s chamber the next morning, he encountered Agnes heading away from it. She was clutching an untouched breakfast tray and wearing a grim expression.

  “She’s not eaten a thing since yesterday morning, my lord.”

  “That bad, ah?” Luc grimaced. “I’ll see what I can do about it.”

  Luc discovered Clarissa sitting in front of the fire, looking sad but composed.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I’ve brought you some company.”

  Mulligan limped into the room behind his master. With the uncanny sixth sense peculiar to dogs, he seemed to know some sort of crisis had occurred. He settled himself at Clarissa’s feet, rested his head on her lap, and looked up at her through devoted eyes.

  “Thank you. Good morning, Mulligan, darling.” She stroked his
shaggy head.

  “And how are you feeling today?”

  “A little wobbly, but ashamed of myself for falling apart as I did.”

  “Think no more about it.”

  “Just when I thought matters couldn’t get any worse, I find I owe you yet another apology.” She lifted her shoulders. “You know, I seldom have reason to apologise to anyone, but find I must apologise to you for the third time in as many days.”

  Luc smiled at her. “Apologies are quite unnecessary.”

  The door opened and both the countess and Agnes entered.

  “Oh, you poor lamb, how are you today?” His mother bent to kiss Clarissa’s cheek.

  “Better, thank you, aunt, and resigned to my fate.”

  “What do you mean by that, my dear?”

  “Well, if this Mr. Salik really is Michael’s son, and if Michael did wish him to inherit, then I won’t attempt to stand in his way. If it’s proven to be so, then I’ll surrender Fairlands to him and retire to Greenlawns. Who knows,” she added in an over-bright voice, “perhaps Mr. Salik will share my interest in the herd and allow me to continue using his land?”

  Luc and his mother shared a speaking look.

  “Clarissa,” Luc said with infinite gentleness. “You do realise that if Salik proves to be genuine, then you can’t reside at Greenlawns anymore.”

  “Why ever not? It’s my father’s estate and my childhood home. It’s mine now.”

  “No, I’m afraid not. When you married Hartley your property became part of his estate.”

  The abject desolation in her expression moved Luc’s heart. “Yes, I suppose it did. I never stopped to think.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “So I really have lost everything, then.”

  Luc adopted a brisk, businesslike, tone. “Not necessarily. We have yet to prove that this Salik person is who he claims to be. Now then, let’s go over in detail what Twining said to you yesterday. Apart from gaining translations from the Arabic and attempting to authenticate your husband’s signature, what other steps is taking to get to the truth?”

  “Well, he did say that I should meet Mr. Salik.”