The Shadow of Langley Hall

by Dilys Xavier

  A niggling fear stirred in the pit of Catherine’s stomach. Was this man in any way related to Sir Hugh? She turned back to her cousin.

  ‘You seemed to be having quite a discussion with Mr Carlisle,’ she remarked, in a deliberately off hand way. ‘Did he tell you why he was here? I’m suspicious of the reason he gave me. Did he indicate that he was connected to the family in any way? Did he know Cousin John, or was that just an excuse to come here and have a look around?’

  ‘Yes, he really does look like the old man, doesn’t he?’ Louise said, ignoring Catherine’s questions, ‘except for those distinctive grey eyes. Although he has the same droopy eyelid, but lots of people have that little problem.’ She gave a girlish giggle. ‘Maybe he’s related to Elizabeth. That would be a turn up for the books, wouldn’t it?’

  Catherine stared at her with a feeling of consternation on hearing Louise voice her thoughts about Richard Carlisle. If what her cousin had implied was true, then her days as mistress of Langley Hall could be numbered. The thought filled her with dread. I don’t want to be put out of this lovely house, she thought. It’s my home; no it’s more than my home, it’s my very life. Where would I live, where would I entertain my friends, and where would I end up if I lost my claim to the estate? It did not bear thinking about.

  ‘He’s quite handsome, isn’t he? Maybe you could marry him, instead of Peter.’ Louise’s giggle and flippant remark cut into her miserable thoughts.

  ‘And why should I do that?’ she retorted, icily. ‘At least I won’t have any trouble with Peter, but that man ... no thank you very much. He’s probably too accustomed to having his own way. Besides, you know I have no intention ...’ She left the sentence unfinished.

  ‘Even so I think he fancies you.’ Louise sighed softly. ‘Surely, you noticed the way he looked at you.’

  ‘Well, he’ll just have to keep on fancying me, won’t he?’

  ‘Who was that fellow - from some firm called Carlisle Enterprises?’ Peter asked, when he joined them. ‘Did you invite him back to the house? I’m pretty sure Cousin John didn’t have any connection with a business by that name.’

  ‘The man seems to have invited himself.’ Catherine’s voice rose as she turned on Peter. ‘You make it your business to find out who he is and why he came here.’ When he demurred, she snapped, ‘I’m worried. And you’ve got as much to lose as I have if I don’t inherit this place for some obscure reason. You can forget about marriage for a start. I won’t need you around if I lose the estate.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, what is the matter with you? There’s no need to take your frustration out on me.’

  As the conversation became more heated, Louise made an excuse to leave them alone. After she had gone, Peter called a waiter and asked for another drink.

  ‘Look, arguing about things isn’t going to help. I’ll make some enquires about the man, and if need be we can hire a private detective to have a poke around.’ He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I know a few guys who can rough him up a bit if he gets too clever.’

  ‘What do you mean by rough him up?’ Catherine felt her heart contract with fear. ‘Don’t you dare involve any of your so-called business associates in this affair. You can be so stupid at times, Peter.’ She spat out the words. ‘Sometimes I wonder why I agreed to Cousin John’s suggestion that we marry in the first place. The only good thing about marrying you is to stop other bounty hunters, like that ... that damned Australian from getting their hands on the place.’ She gave him a shove. ‘Go and organise the reading of the will.’

  After he had gone, Catherine made her way to the cloakroom. She looked in the gilded mirror to check on her make-up and nodded approvingly. Black suited her complexion. Louise was right, Richard Carlisle had made no attempt to hide the fact that he found her attractive. Although, maybe he showed a natural interest in any desirable woman; after all he was a good-looking man and very sure of himself. He probably saw every female as a potential bed-mate. She frowned at the mirror as she pictured his handsome face, and then angrily snapped off the light before returning to the hall.

  As she walked back into the room a servant announced that the solicitor was waiting in the sitting room. The will held no surprises. Cousin John left most of his possessions to Catherine, with a few small bequests to some old friends and the R.S.P.C.A.

  After the last of the guests had departed, Catherine mounted the stairs to her apartment. She was disappointed that Cecile had not been able to attend the funeral, but her friend was somewhere in the south of France and had evidently left her mobile at home, or deliberately switched it off so that her other admirers could not interrupt her holiday. I daresay she’ll contact me when she comes home, Catherine decided, and we’ll go out for lunch somewhere nice, to celebrate my good fortune. She smiled, thinking, She’ll be delighted that Cousin John left me enough money to buy a Lotus Elan.

  On the other hand, Peter had not seemed so pleased about her windfall. He had expected to be a beneficiary too, but she reasoned that John Sinclair had probably made his will long before Peter became involved with the affairs of Langley Hall.

  She recalled the day she had learned that Cousin John was seriously ill. He had complained of pains in his abdomen for some considerable time, but he was convinced it was just a digestive problem until he had sought medical advice.

  When his illness was eventually diagnosed as terminal, the doctor insisted that he cut back on his workload. Peter Hamblyn had come along just at the right time and since he had the necessary experience, Cousin John had suggested that he should help with the running of the estate. The court had agreed to the arrangement and so there was no need to call in anyone outside the family.

  ‘You’ll need to consider the long term implications of my demise,’ Cousin John had said, at the time. Then to their amazement he had suggested a marriage of convenience and went on to remind them that it had been common practice amongst titled families for generations. He had looked from one to the other. ‘First and foremost, you aim to keep the estate in the family. If you’re married it will eliminate some of the problems and it might be in the best interests of you both. Think about it, anyway.’

  Catherine had a long talk with Josie Billings, her confidante, about the idea, and then sat down with Peter to work out a suitable arrangement. Catherine was fond of him, but didn’t love him. However, that didn’t matter. He was a personable man, dressed well, and knew how to conduct himself at a social gathering. They had agreed to certain conditions, and she had been reasonably content with the arrangement at the time.

  She and Peter had continued to postpone the wedding because the sense of urgency dissipated with every day Cousin John remained alive. He had not succumbed to his illness within a few months as the doctor had predicted. And then suddenly he was dead. Although they were expecting him to die it still came as a shock and now they would have to renegotiate the situation regarding the estate.

  The court would have to be convinced that Peter was capable of managing the place on his own, and that could be a problem. He seemed competent enough, and everything was running smoothly, but she was rather concerned about who he was involved with outside the estate. If there were any irregularities concerning his own business interests it might go against him. She considered that maybe she should employ a private detective to check things out, just in case, for the last thing she needed right now was a threat to her position in the estate and house.

  When she had confronted Peter about his newly acquired car shortly after he came to Langley Hall, he was dismissive. But she was determined to know how he could afford it.

  ‘You were complaining that your business was on the point of collapse a few weeks ago and yet you’ve just bought yourself a late model Jaguar. That seems rather strange to me.’

  ‘I’ve got a new deal going,’ he had replied, with a smirk. ‘Things will only get better from now on. I’ve cleared up most of my overdraft so I decided to buy something more in keeping with my improved
lifestyle.’

  His answer had not satisfied her and so she continued to worry. Her fears were compounded when she saw him talking animatedly to a scruffy looking character in a delivery van parked outside a local pub. And now, as she changed into her riding habit, she decided to ask him to be more explicit about his affairs.

  She wasn’t going to take any chances now that this man, Richard Carlisle, had made his sudden appearance at the manor. I’ll have a word with Josie, Catherine decided, as she made her way to the stables. She’ll probably say I’m worrying for nothing, but I can’t be too careful. Not at this stage, anyway.

  *

  After Catherine walked away Peter topped up his whiskey, yet again. He wondered why Cousin John’s death had affected her so adversely. Not only that, but she also seemed overly concerned about the estate and their intended marriage lately, and today she was particularly touchy. Although she was very fond of their cousin, for whom she had shed a few tears by the graveside, he did not think her outburst was related to his death. He could only put it down to one thing - the sudden appearance of Carlisle, and his resemblance to the old man.

  He wandered into the reception hall and stopped in front of the portrait of Sir Hugh. Catherine was right of course – there was definitely a distinct likeness, but as far as he was concerned the odds against the man being related to the Williams family were extremely high. Nevertheless it would not hurt to talk to Catherine and set a hard and fast date for the wedding. Richard had taken more than a passing interest in her and he did not want to take any chances that she might be attracted to him. The last thing he needed now was competition; something or someone coming between them at this stage.

  Their agreement wasn’t set in stone, but they had settled on certain parameters and it was workable. He sank down on a nearby sofa as he considered what they had come to term as their arrangement. Catherine had been adamant - no sex. She wanted to wait to see how things turned out first. She assumed that she would be able to get the marriage annulled if the union had not been consummated. But Peter was convinced that he could overcome that obstacle.

  He recalled the first time he had seen her at a family gathering. They were both in their teens, and she was a beauty even then. He had been completely smitten and had determined to seduce her, but she was just as resolved not to lose her virginity. He had fantasised about her for weeks after, and not until he became involved with someone else was he able to put her out of his mind. But now ... if anything went wrong now, things would be different.

  ‘Yes, my fine lady,’ he murmured, taking another sip of whiskey. ‘Now, I know much more about you and I’ve got a lot more patience. You’ll change your mind about having a more intimate relationship.’

  At that moment his mobile rang. Peter listened to the voice of the caller for a moment and then snapped, ‘I thought I told you not to phone me today. It’s my cousin’s funeral.’ He listened to what was being said for a few moments and then interjected. ‘Look, I don’t need to be told every time someone scratches a van, okay? There’s a panel beating shop on the industrial estate, get them to fix it.’ He listened again. ‘No, the insurance probably won’t cover it, but get it done anyway. I’ll drop by in the morning, okay?’

  He switched off the phone and downed the rest of the whiskey in one gulp. Things were getting a bit out of hand. Murphy and his roughneck companions were becoming too demanding, too cocksure of themselves. He’d have to remind them who had bankrolled the operation. Who had provided the means to set it all up. Who was in charge. And if they did not come into line, then he would let them get on without him.

  ‘I’ll have enough to do here, anyway,’ he murmured, getting to his feet.

  Yes, he decided, he was in a reasonably good financial position to call it quits - even if it meant taking a loss on the vehicles. Almost at once he recalled how he had faced the prospect of bankruptcy only a few years ago. Everything seemed to collapse at the same time. He had experienced severe money problems, and the bank manager had refused to extend his overdraft and had even threatened to take him to court.

  Then the Inland Revenue had begun to badger him. It was: ‘No Mr Hamblyn, that’s not possible, Mr Hamblyn, we don’t make the rules, Mr Hamblyn.’ Oh, yes, they claimed that they wanted to help him, but ... but it was more than their jobs were worth to bend the rules or give him time to sort things out.

  ‘Bloody lot of Jobsworths,’ he muttered. Then he laughed. ‘But they won’t get their greedy little hands on what I’ve got stashed away. No sir.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  Richard unlocked the Saab, slipped in behind the wheel and drove away from Langley Hall deep in thought. It had been an eventful morning. Several snippets of a conversation had caught his attention and in particular the words spoken by a couple of guests discussing the future of Langley Hall. One casual remark by an elderly man stuck in his mind.

  ‘I find it rather strange that they’ve never traced Sir Hugh’s daughter. Surely, someone could have tracked her down,’ the dapper man, with the pencil thin moustache, had said. ‘Unless she left the country, of course.’

  ‘Maybe she decided that love was enough and didn’t want to be found, hmm?’

  ‘But, who in their right mind would turn their back on all of this?’ the dapper man had gestured at the elegantly furnished room. ‘Women, bah; all they think of is love, and that it’s the be all and end all of everything. I’ll tell you one thing, love soon flies out the window when the bills aren’t paid.’

  ‘We’ll probably never know the whole story. It’s my guess they didn’t want her to be found. Of course she might be dead.’

  ‘You could be right, but she’d only be in her sixties now if she’s still alive. I wonder if she ever had a family.’

  ‘Well, unless Elizabeth or her heirs miraculously turn up Catherine stands to inherit the lot on her thirtieth birthday.’

  ‘And apparently that’s not far away.’

  The men had changed the subject when a drinks waiter approached, but it had given Richard something to think about. So he was right about Catherine; she was in her late twenties, and by all accounts she must be desperate to retain the house. Then he recalled seeing a large, wooden plaque bearing a coat of arms and a crest in the hall. It bore the motto, ‘Quid Nunc’. He wondered where he had seen that before and what the words meant.

  Then he thought of his mother. Her name had been Elizabeth, but of course that was not an unusual name. She had never talked much about her family, although he knew her maiden name was Williams, but that was a very common surname.

  He wished he had asked more questions while she was still alive. She had said something about marrying below her station and against her father’s wishes, but he had taken little interest at the time. Richard had once asked where she had been born, but she had a delightful way of ignoring his questions when it suited her, so he never found out. He was still quite young when her aunt died and bequeathed everything to his mother. The inheritance had proved to be a godsend, providing them with a home of their own and the means to give him a good education.

  He pulled his mind back to the present as he stopped at a red light. He glanced sideways at the truck driver on his left, noticing that the man’s face reminded him of Peter Hamblyn. He wondered if their paths had ever crossed previously, and although he vaguely recalled having seen him somewhere, he was unable to remember where or when. Louise Finnigan was probably right about him; he seemed hardly the right person for someone like Catherine. He smiled at the memory of her. I wonder what she looks like in the altogether, he mused. Quite something, I should imagine.

  The overwhelming feeling that he had some kind of family connection to Sir Hugh returned with renewed intensity. Maybe it was only a hunch, but it was worth investigating. However, he had precious little to go on, just his uncanny likeness to Sir Hugh, and a mother called Elizabeth. He laughed aloud. It was a preposterous idea - that his own mother was the errant privileged daughter – but it intrigue
d him. More than that, it excited him.

  Nicole looked up from her computer as he entered the office, a warm smile lighting up her rather homely face. She had been hired when his previous secretary, Helen, had decided to move on. It had been a good choice; Nicole was not only very efficient, but happily married with children - and he didn’t fancy her one bit. That had been one of his main problems in the past. He would choose an attractive woman as a secretary, then become sexually involved with her as well. When the first flush of excitement waned, he usually realised he had made a mistake. She in turn would not apply herself as diligently as he required and that would lead to misunderstandings. So she would be replaced and the cycle would be repeated. But not anymore; he had finally learned his lesson.

  ‘Hello, Nicole. Everything under control?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ After she had brought him up to date on the morning’s events, she casually enquired where he had been. ‘It’s not like you to turn off your mobile and not tell me where you are.’

  Richard chuckled. ‘You’re not going to believe this, but I spent the morning at a funeral and Langley Hall.’

  ‘Isn’t that the manor where the late Sir Hugh Williams lived?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the one,’ he replied, and went on to explain how he had been caught up in the funeral cortege and on a sudden whim had gone back to the house. ‘I can’t really explain why I did it, and on top of that I think I put a few noses out of joint by going there. Catherine Lowstoffe, the old man’s stepdaughter, seemed rather piqued because I’m sure she guessed I had gate-crashed the buffet.’

  ‘What’s the place like?’