The Shadow of Langley Hall

by Dilys Xavier

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Didn’t you know that Richard’s acquisition of Langley Hall has been the main topic of conversation in this part of the world for the past few days?’ When Catherine shook her head, Cecile continued. ‘The local papers splashed the news about Sir Hugh’s long lost grandson all over the front page.’

  ‘I haven’t seen a newspaper for days.’

  Cecile continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. ‘And then to top it off someone at the hospital leaked a story that you had tried to commit suicide.’ She reached out to touch Catherine’s hand. ‘Sorry, but that’s how it goes, and I felt it right to tell you.’

  ‘And I suppose Richard has been interviewed by all and sundry,’ Catherine said, trying to keep a touch of bitterness out of her voice. ‘I imagine that he’s being feted by all the locals.’

  ‘Actually, he’s kept a very low profile.’

  ‘Did you know what he was doing?’

  ‘I only knew as much as I had already told you,’ Cecile replied. ‘That he had researched his family background and was determined to claim the inheritance if it were legally his.’ Then she went on to explain how he had found the documents at the last moment and made it to the courts in time. ‘He had all but given up when he failed to receive a response to his enquiries, and I know that he didn’t wait until the last moment on purpose. It was a case of no option.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Cecile looked her straight in the eye. ‘You know wouldn’t keep anything from you if I’d known. After all our friendship means a great deal to me.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘Richard had no reason to hide anything. Maybe he didn’t tell you about it because he didn’t want to cause you any unnecessary distress. If it had come to nothing then ... it’s just the way things worked out.’

  ‘Are you pleased for him?’

  Cecile hesitated before answering. ‘Yes, and no. I’m pleased that he found out about the missing links in his life, but that’s all. I’d much prefer you remain at Langley Hall. It won’t be the same without you.’ She paused as if searching for the right words to say. ‘I don’t think that I’d like to visit the place if you’re not there.’

  ‘So if Richard asks you to become his ... whatever, you wouldn’t live there?’

  ‘No. Oh, no.’

  Cecile’s unequivocal answer brought a faint smile to Catherine’s face. She sighed gently.

  ‘I don’t know why, but that makes me feel a lot better about things. Not that I’d begrudge you any happiness, but ... well, you know.’ She picked up the menu. ‘Now that we’ve cleared the air we’d better order.’

  ‘What are you going to do now?’ Cecile asked. ‘I mean what are your immediate plans.’

  ‘I’m going to visit Louise for a couple of weeks. Spend a bit of time away everything and everyone associated with the manor. It’ll give me time to decide on my future.’

  ‘I’ll take you to the airport if you like,’ Cecile said, in an effort to lighten the conversation.

  ‘Thanks anyway, but I’ll catch the ferry and take my time driving over to Kerry. I’ll be less dependent on Louise that way.’ She placed a hand on Cecile’s arm. ‘Will you take a message to Richard? Tell him I’ll discuss the hand-over of the estate when I return from Ireland.’

  *

  Richard had no idea that his newly acquired status would generate so much interest. It seemed that someone had phoned the newspapers within hours of the claim being ratified and they had started knocking on his door within hours. He had been inundated by requests to be interviewed and had instructed his solicitors to say he would make a statement for the press in due course. Of course, that had not stopped reporters from plastering his photo, and that of Sir Hugh, all over the local papers.

  The editor’s column expressed surprise that everything had been finalised so quickly, and cited numerous other instances where claims had not been resolved for years. Apparently the unorthodox manner in which the application had been presented caught everyone by surprise and this had actually worked in the Richard’s favour. No one had time to dispute the petition before it had all been finalised according to the law.

  The next edition carried a photo of Catherine and the story of her hospitalisation. The writer speculated about her collapse and hinted that she had tried to commit suicide. Concerned that they might think he had been responsible for her dilemma, Richard contacted his solicitor and sought his advice, and then he rang Cecile. She assured him it was just an accident and that Catherine was going to be all right. All he knew about Catherine’s state of health when he rang the hospital to enquire, was the usual: ‘Comfortable, and as well as can be expected ...’ answer. The next time he phoned they said she had gone home. Rather than cause any unnecessary distress he had not tried to contact her at Langley Hall.

  And now, as Nicole placed a letter in front of him, he pulled his mind back to the present and the need to address the pressing business at hand. The solicitor had finished preparing the lease for the new premises and wanted his signature in order to go ahead. He tapped the letter with his finger.

  ‘I’ll get onto this straight away. I’d like it wrapped up as soon as possible. We don’t want anything to go wrong at this stage of the proceedings.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘And we’ll need to go and have a look for some new furniture and fittings. Can you pencil a date into the diary when I’m free?’

  The rest of the day went by like a whirlwind. Once again, Richard marvelled at how things had changed over the past few months. Business was booming, his love life was better than he could ever remember, and now Langley Hall was his too. He had already received a letter from the golf club congratulating him on his succession to the baronetcy, and even the national newspapers were clamouring for an interview because of the romantic turn of the story.

  On top of that Cecile was pressing him to take a break. She had proposed a weekend away, somewhere in Wales of all places, but he had too much to contend with at the moment. He had begun working all day Saturday and Sunday mornings just to keep abreast of the work.

  I’ll have to get some help soon, he decided, as he closed the office on Sunday morning. This is getting too much. Maybe I can promote Nicole, and find someone else to take over her current responsibilities. She’s very competent, she knows how the business operates, and she can handle most of the office work. He smiled to himself. I think she’ll be delighted, and she’ll be bound to appreciate the extra money.

  The Wheatsheaf Inn car park was filled to capacity, which meant that the bar and dining room was crowded too. Rather than join a queue he decided to have lunch at the golf club. The place was almost deserted and he was served within minutes. As soon as he finished eating he slipped quietly away so that he would not be enticed into joining someone for a game.

  As he climbed into his car a sense of embarrassment swept over him as he realised that he had forgotten to share his good news with Agnes Frobisher. He should have contacted her days ago, told her who he was, and of his decision to claim his birth right instead of allowing her to read about in the newspaper.

  I can’t arrive empty-handed, he mused, and backtracked to a van parked on the side of the road and bought a large bouquet of flowers.

  Agnes opened the door to his rapid rat-tat-tat on the ornate knocker and gasped, ‘Glory be, it’s Richard.’ She ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ over the bunch of flowers, then led the way into the kitchen. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea.’ As Richard sat down she lifted the lid off the cake tin. ‘I must have known you were coming. I’ve just iced this chocolate cake.’

  She had evidently not read the newspapers or listened to the local radio station because she made no mention of his change of fortune, so he would have to break the news to her himself. He waited until she had poured the tea and then he gave a nervous cough.

  ‘Mrs Frobisher … er … Agnes …’ When she looked at him he cleared his throat noisily. ‘I ... that is ...’


  ‘Come on young man, what is it?’ Agnes demanded, in a bantering tone of voice. ‘Come on, get to the point.’

  He hesitated and glanced around the room as if looking for inspiration. Then he noticed the photographs of his mother and father were still propped against a vase on the sideboard where she had placed them during his the previous visit. Picking them he placed them in front of her and pointed to two figures standing side by side.

  ‘These are my parents’ he said, quietly. ‘Your brother is my father.’

  ‘Oh, glory be,’ Agnes said, the colour draining from her face. ‘You? You’re Dickie’s boy? Glory be. I had a feeling there was something familiar about you when you were here last time, but I couldn’t have imagined you were Dickie’s son.’ She picked up the photo and looked closely at him. ‘You’re more like your mother than Dickie.’

  ‘So it would seem.’

  Agnes motioned him back to a chair. ‘Now tell me, how did you find out?’

  Richard explained how he had traced the family connection, and how the manila folder had come to light when the builder discovered it behind the old dresser that had been fixed to the wall. He apologised for keeping his identity a secret by explaining that he thought it best not to say anything until he was certain that he could prove their relationship. Then he went to speak about his feelings; how he had been completely overwhelmed by the discovery of his mother’s past and his great sense of relief to learn he belonged somewhere.

  ‘But surely Elizabeth wouldn’t have kept that from you?’ Agnes said, in a surprised tone of voice. ‘What purpose would that achieve?’

  ‘She probably expected me to find it immediately after her death, along with the insurance policies and what have you. But, somehow or other that particular folder ended up behind the bureau. Her letter to me was dated two days before she died. She made it clear that she intended me to find everything about my right to the inheritance it as soon as I went through her personal papers.’

  ‘So why didn’t you then?’

  ‘Why didn’t I do what?’

  ‘Go through her things properly?’

  ‘I did. I sorted them out, stored them in cardboard boxes and put them up in the attic. Maybe she put the folder in the bureau so that I would find it straight away, but I’ve only used it as dumping ground for circulars and the like. Somehow or other it got pushed out the back and fell onto the floor behind the bureau.’

  ‘So finding like it like that was truly providential, wasn’t it?’ When Richard agreed she smiled. ‘So now tell me the whole story from the time you went to Cousin John’s funeral.’

  It was late afternoon before he had explained everything to his aunt’s satisfaction, and when he had finished she laid a hand on his arm.

  ‘So I’ve got another nephew. What a lovely surprise.’ She disappeared into the sitting room and returned with a bottle of sherry. ‘We’ll have a drink to celebrate.’

  As he prepared to leave, Agnes took hold of his hand.

  ‘It’s been lovely to find Dickie’s son after all these years. I’m sure he would have been proud of you.’ Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘And I’m so happy that everything has worked out so well.’

  ‘Now, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to have a get together so that you can meet all the rest of your family.’ When he protested, she shushed him. ‘You’d be surprised at how many relatives you’ve got, and I’m sure they’ll all be pleased to learn they’re connected to the new Squire of Langley Hall.’

  She hugged him close as he said goodbye and kissed her cheek. Before he drove away Richard promised to keep in touch and accepted her invitation to lunch on the following Sunday. He glanced at his watch; it was too late to go back to the office now, and anyway he had to share the news with someone.

  Cecile opened the door with a surprised look on her face when he rang the doorbell.

  ‘I was just about to run a bath and have a good long soak,’ she said, kissing him lightly. ‘You’re just in time to scrub my back.’

  ‘That sounds like a good idea,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘But first let me tell you where I’ve been and what’s happened.’

  When he finished relating the experience, Cecile clapped her hands.

  ‘Oh, that’s lovely, I’m so pleased for you. After all those years of not knowing anything about your family, it must be wonderful to get such a warm response from your closest relative.’ She poured him a large Calvados and a whisky for herself, then lifted her glass. ‘Here’s to your Aunt Agnes, the rest of your family, whoever and wherever they are.’

  ‘And here’s to us,’ he said, raising his glass. Then he grinned. ‘You’re not in a hurry to have that bath are you?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  When Catherine had assured herself that Leslie Johnson had everything under control she phoned Louise and told her when she expected to arrive. After stowing her bags in the boot of the rotary valve Mazda she casually threw a coat over the back of the passenger seat and slid in behind the wheel. Now convinced that a few weeks away from the place would help take her mind off things, she was looking forward to visiting her cousin in Ireland. And of course there was no reason to hurry back, for there was in no urgency to hand over the estate to Richard Carlisle. Maybe she would stay longer than planned.

  The trip down the M4 to Fishguard was uneventful and although the sports car ate up the miles, she was not tempted to match the speed of the other vehicles that sped past her on the outside lane. She stood on the deck of the ferry as it cleared the harbour and watched the shoreline recede into the distance. Only when the squawking seabirds wheeled around and flew back towards the mainland did she notice how the boat was embraced in peaceful silence.

  The harbour side hotel sign blinked a welcome as she cleared the customs check control point on the other side. Yes, she thought, it would be better to spend the night here rather than drive across the country in the fast fading light. The next morning dawned bright and clear, and by the time she had finished breakfast and booked out of the hotel, the traffic had thinned out. She enjoyed a trouble free run across to County Kerry, and when she swung into her cousin’s farmyard, she was not overly tired.

  Louise welcomed her warmly and fussed over her, helping with the luggage and needlessly explaining where everything was again and again. When her husband, Seamus, came in from the field he gave her a big hug and seemed genuinely pleased to be able to say how well she looked. Within days much of the tension that had oppressed her recently began to subside. Her cousin tried hard not to speak about the inheritance, but eventually it became the topic of their conversations. However once it had been addressed Catherine had to admit that it was a relief to share her concerns and feelings with someone who cared about her.

  They were sitting in the kitchen enjoying a cup of coffee a few days after she arrived, when a horn blast interrupted their conversation. Within minutes Seamus burst into the room.

  ‘Come and have a look at this horse, Catherine. It’s a beauty,’ he said, excitedly.

  She followed her cousin’s husband outside. Parked in the drive was a 4WD vehicle and an expensive horse-float with the top half of a side door open. A thoroughbred stamped its hooves as the groom tried to hold it steady for everyone to see.

  ‘Liam is going to put this fellow to stud,’ Seamus said, by way of explanation.

  Catherine looked at the horse and then at the well-dressed man who had crossed over to where she stood.

  ‘Hello,’ he smiled, warmly. ‘You must be Catherine Lowestoffe.’ As he spoke his eyes wavered as if he was tempted to study her more closely. Then he held out his hand for hers. ‘Liam Kelly.’

  She looked him over as she returned his greeting. He had the typical good looks of a healthy Irishman. His deep blue eyes seemed to twinkle beneath a tuft of dark hair that hung over his forehead and gave him the air of a cheeky schoolboy. He seemed to exude strength and she could imagine him coping easily with any unruly or stubborn horse.r />
  ‘How soon will he be ready to cover a mare?’ she asked, fondling the creature’s muzzle.

  Liam did not hear her question because he had been distracted by a message on his mobile. He made a face at the instrument, shoved it back into his pocket and then turned back to her.

  ‘Seamus tells me that you have quite a few horses of your own,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a couple jumpers out of training at the moment that still need exercising. I’d be happy to let you ride them if you wish.’

  ‘That’s kind of you,’ Catherine said. ‘Louise has boasted about your success on the racecourse. I think there are very few things more exciting than watching your own horse win a race.’

  ‘Yes, I agree with you; I’ve had the good fortune to enjoy that many times over the years,’ he said, motioning to the groom to close the door again. ‘Matter of fact, I have a two-year-old running in the first race at the Curragh next weekend. To be sure and she’s a handy little filly; should give them a run for their money.’ He paused and then added. ‘You might like to honour me with your company.’

  ‘I’ll ... think about it,’ Catherine said, smiling, but feeling somewhat unwilling to encourage him, for she had no intention of becoming involved with anyone during her sojourn with Louise and her family. In fact, the thought of letting a man into her life at this time was something she did not want to entertain. As if sensing her mood, Liam tipped his hat, climbed into the cabin of his vehicle and waved goodbye.

  But if she thought he was going to be put off that easily, she was mistaken. He knocked on the door just after breakfast the next morning and called out a cheery hello.

  ‘Tis a lovely day for a canter over the moors, and then I thought it might even be better if my neighbour’s delightful visitor would come too.’ The corner of his mouth turned up as he smiled. ‘Will you give me that pleasure?’

  ‘Well, I ...’ She hesitated for a moment and looked at Louise who was nodding her head vigorously behind his back. ‘Okay, just give me five minutes to get changed.’