Reluctant Heir

by Barbara Miller

  “Lawyers? Plural?” he queried.

  “Of course I sent for my solicitor. He is the one with the interests of Nash and Claude at heart.”

  “This is not a trial but an enquiry,” he reminded her.

  “And you have stacked the evidence in his favor.” She pointed at Gerard as she left the room supposedly in tears.

  In the end no one played cards but sat and watched the chess matches and participated by turns except Emma and Melanthe who were sewing. They were frosty to Gerard because of the incident with Jack. It was a quiet evening but one of intense concentration. Charles had the style Gerard expected, reckless and flamboyant. Against any of the careful Cochrans he never won a game.

  When matched against his grandfather Gerard felt almost as though he was playing his father at chess and it occurred to him that the old man must have taught his father to play. Another connection with the past.

  General Cochran flicked his gaze around the board. “How does my playing compare with General Soutine’s?”

  Gerard considered well before answering. “He will sacrifice any piece to win including the queen.”

  “He was like that on the battlefield.”

  “The chess board is his only battlefield now. I wonder if Napoleon ever played chess.”

  “Only on a very large board,” his grandfather said. “What made you think of him?”

  “Because you play more like Wellington would. Every sacrifice you make is well considered and when your opponent stymies your plan you ‘tie a knot and move on’.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You amend your strategy on the fly and if your opponent does not fall into every trap you set it does not fluster you. Soutine plans too far ahead. That is the flaw both he and Napoleon share.”

  “And did you fall into his traps?”

  “Only to find out what his grand plan was.”

  General Cochran chuckled. “Why do you like chess so much?”

  “Because it’s just a game. It doesn’t matter.”

  The intense gaze bore into him. “Nothing is just a game. Everything matters.”

  Gerard nodded and lost to his grandfather as gracefully as he always had to his father.

  Jack started to model his play after those who won by patient teasing of their opponents with small sacrifices and the setting of traps to which his agile mind quickly tumbled.

  Juliet also set traps and made some brave sacrifices. She usually won, more because her opponents underestimated her than because she cared about the game. Gerard had the notion she was studying them, all of them. To her it was a game within a game. If he married her his career as a pawn might continue the rest of his life but he did not mind at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Everyone was up early the next morning expecting the solicitors to arrive so Nash took the opportunity to call Gerard and Jack into the library to instruct them in gentlemanly behavior. Since this involved introductions to ladies Juliet was called to their aid. Because even Jack took the exercise quite seriously Nash did not get frustrated.

  Gerard had borrowed books from the library but had never spent much time here, his grandfather preferring to conduct business in the smaller estate office at the back corner of the house that looked out on the stableyard. Midmorning the sound of a carriage drew them all to the front window except Nash.

  “Is it the custom for well-heeled gentlemen or even ladies to be peering out the window for company or should they simply wait for the servants to announce the arrival?” Nash asked.

  Jack laughed. “You got us there, Cousin Nash. I should not tell you who it is just for that.”

  Gerard took Juliet’s arm and conducted her back to her chair. “The London man, I take it. No doubt he left yesterday and was detained by the weather, probably put up in Northampton. The timing would be right.”

  “York is much farther,” Nash said. “Probably Father will meet with Mayhew in his study until luncheon. Let us begin the whist lesson if we can play on this table. Since you did so well at chess, Jack, I think you could become a terror at cards.”

  After another hour a footman came to remind them it was time to eat.

  * * * * *

  Over luncheon Gerard had a chance to size up Mayhew. He seemed jovial and in good accord with the general. So why did his grandfather think this whole business necessary? The answer was obvious once he thought about it. If the solicitors accepted Gerard, then Helen and Claude would have to shut up about him. A week ago he would have included Nash in that number but somehow his uncle had come over to their camp and he was glad for it. When it was obvious everyone was finished eating General Cochran rose and instructed them all to go to the library.

  “The whole family should be present,” Helen insisted. “We must wait for Claude to return.”

  “That I shall not. He knew better than to go off on a start when there is family business to be conducted.”

  They entered the library to find a circle of chairs surrounding the large table on which a trunk sat unopened. Gerard recognized it as his father’s even had he not seen the initials stamped into the leather. A flurry of hooves on the drive drew them, including General Cochran, to look out the window and make Nash groan and look heavenward in despair. A post chaise and four stopped in front of the house and unloaded Claude and a black-clad man with a large portfolio under his arm and a pair of pince-nez perched on his beaky nose.

  “Your solicitor? Damn, woman. He looks like a jackanapes.”

  “He is here to protect my interests.”

  Mayhew raised his brows but said, “So long as he does not interfere I have no objection to his presence.” He did seem to take offence though when the other solicitor pulled a chair up to the table and cleared his throat as though he meant to take charge. “I am Roth from the firm of…”

  “Stop,” the general said. “Your presence is at the discretion of Mister Mayhew. If you cause any disruption or speak out of turn I will toss you out the door myself.”

  Having paid the post boys, Claude came in and took a seat near Helen. She smiled at him but it did nothing to lighten his scowl over a sleepless night and probably other difficulties. Still Gerard was impressed that Claude had pulled it off, a man of action after all.

  “This examination is to determine the identity of the applicant, whether he is Gerard Cochran, son of Major John Cochran and grandson of General Alfred Cochran or not.” Mayhew stood. “The first two items are uniforms. Do you recall any distinguishing marks?” He looked toward Gerard.

  “Father had three uniforms. I recall a saber cut on the sleeve of one that was repaired. The other two were worn but not damaged.”

  They pulled out the blue artillery officer’s coat and examined it. “No saber cut,” Roth said and made a note. It was laid on the table along with a second uniform, not the one he had worn at Waterloo, of course. That would have been buried with him. Gerard had no idea how much it would affect him to see these things, so dear yet so sad. He almost wanted to call a halt, tell them to close the trunk and give up any aspiration to replace his father.

  Then he looked toward Juliet and her so sympathetic eyes. Chandler nodded to him as if to say. Go on. Nash was looking lost and Gerard wondered if the emotion of seeing his brother’s things would overcome him. This was not what Gerard had been expecting, that Nash had loved his brother. It made him bite his lip and pull in a breath. He’d had months to get used to the idea. Though intellectually Nash knew his brother was dead, he had not really confronted the truth until now.

  “The next item is a journal. Can you tell me what is in it?” Mayhew asked without lifting the journal into view.

  “His notes on the battles. I was never allowed to read it. It’s covered in scuffed brown leather. No monogram and it has a lock.”

  “It is locked and there is no key.”

  “He would have carried that with him,” Gerard said.

  “Shall we break the lock?” Roth asked.

  General
Cochran’s hand came down on the solicitor’s. “What would be the point? Gerard has never seen the contents.”

  Roth cleared his throat. “The applicant claims wisely that he has never seen it.”

  “The next item is a box of playing cards,” Mayhew continued very much as though this were an auction.

  “The box is wood and the cards well worn.” Gerard could see the familiar items and they brought back a flood of memories—his mother and father playing late at night by lantern light, his mother teaching him whist and after she had died, Tully teaching him the less refined games. “The backs have fleur-de-lis on them. They were a gift from my mother.”

  “They are as described,” Mayhew said with a slight smile.

  “But anyone might have seen these,” Roth insisted.

  “The next item is a chess set.” Mayhew looked about and consulted the list again. “I don’t see it.”

  The general cleared his throat. “We had need of the chess set last night but Gerard properly identified it as his father’s.”

  “That was unconscionable,” Helen said.

  “But a better test than this,” General Cochran said. “He had no idea where the chess set was. It could have been one I had here.”

  “Is that it?” Gerard asked.

  “There is a book.”

  “I do not recall a book. Unless it is a military volume he borrowed from someone I cannot imagine what it could be.”

  “It is a book of poetry,” Mayhew intoned.

  “But that’s absurd,” Gerard said. “Father never read poetry. He called it rubbish.”

  “That is correct,” General Cochran said. “I inserted the book of poetry as a test.”

  “But you don’t read it, do you, sir?” Jack asked in some concern.

  General Cochran’s mouth quirked in a quick smile. “Of course not.”

  “That is all that was in the trunk?” Roth asked. “No papers?”

  “Just some shirts, civilian coats and smallclothes,” General Cochran answered. “Even if we had his saber that might not help since there was nothing remarkable about it.”

  “No doubt lost in the battle,” Mayhew replied.

  The general sighed. “I suppose he may have stored military papers in the locked journal, his commission and such but—”

  “Since this person is in this country without leave I think he should be turned over to the authorities,” Roth said. “No passport for him has been found in the trunk.”

  “What the devil do you mean?” Cochran asked. “Military are exempt from the need for a passport.”

  Helen rose from her chair. “As you have said often enough Gerard was not in the military. Chandler removed him from France illegally. I don’t know who he bribed to let him into this country but this person is French, not English. You can tell by his accent.”

  “Chandler, how did you get Gerard into the country?” General Cochran asked.

  “The same way we got him out of France. We said we were taking home a relative wounded at Waterloo.”

  Juliet cleared her throat. “Besides, Gerard has his passport. My maid should keep you better informed, Aunt Helen.”

  Helen colored at this accusation and sat down.

  “I’m only half French,” Gerard mumbled. “But I can prove—”

  “You cannot,” Roth almost shouted. “You were born in France and should be sent back there.”

  Gerard removed a new bill case from his pocket and extracted a worn certificate he placed in Mayhew’s hands. The solicitor smiled.

  “This is a baptismal certificate from St. Thomas’ Church in Portsmouth for Gerard Cochran, son of Major John Cochran and Mrs. Amilee Cochran.”

  Gerard pursed his lips so that he would not smile as everyone stared at him. Most of them were looks of surprise. His grandfather’s gaze spoke of vengeance at some future date for putting them all through this charade. Nash looked almost amused, Claude angry and Helen murderous.

  ”You little devil,” the general said. “If you had this all along why did you not say so?”

  “I thought someone might claim I’d stolen it.”

  “I did tell you he had papers,” Chandler said. “Recall that I discovered Gerard in Paris quite by accident.”

  “But you went there to inquire for him?” Helen accused.

  “Yes but everyone who knew him thought he had either perished on the battlefield or gone home.”

  “The applicant may have put himself in your path,” Roth insisted.

  “Gerard was very reluctant to even come to meet his grandfather,” Chandler replied. “In truth I had to abduct him to get him out of the country.”

  Gerard glanced toward his grandfather and saw puzzlement on his brow. Later he would ask him why he had not wanted to come. Gerard was glad he had not brought the money belt itself with that damning letter. He was convinced now that General Cochran had not written it and probably did not know it’s import since he could not see that well. If Gerard had his way his grandfather would never know. For if he found out he might think Gerard’s father had believed it and he sincerely hoped that had not been the case.

  Into the lengthening silence Claude spoke. “Has he tried to escape since he has been here?”

  “No but he has fallen in love with Juliet,” Chandler said with a smile.

  So much for keeping their engagement secret.

  “Yet another reason to maintain the imposture,” Helen countered. “Besides, a baptismal certificate means nothing. If his parents were not married he is not the legal heir.”

  Nash’s head came up at this accusation and he looked at his mother as though he would like to throttle her.

  “I have that as well.” Gerard handed another much creased paper to Mayhew.

  General Cochran coughed to cover a chuckle. “Have you played your last card?”

  “Almost,” Gerard said as he saw the hint of a smile on his grandfather’s face.

  “This is a certificate of marriage for the couple in question. The names are somewhat blotched but there is no doubt about Major Cochran’s signature and the date is clear enough.”

  ”And when is it dated?” Roth asked.

  ”More than a year before the baptism.”

  “Enough,” the general said. “I am satisfied that Gerard is my heir. This is finished.”

  Roth gestured wildly. “By his own mouth he speculated these documents might be stolen. In point of fact, he cannot produce a single witness to verify his identity.”

  General Cochran stood. “His face is his witness. No one can look upon Gerard and deny he is a Cochran.”

  Helen glared at Gerard. “He could as easily be another son, a bastard son.”

  “Mother!” Nash leaped up. “Don’t say such things.”

  Juliet stood. “Actually he can produce a witness.”

  “What?” The men all chorused.

  “Juliet, don’t,” Gerard said.

  She turned to him. “But they don’t believe you. Not all of them.”

  “Does it matter so much if I am proven Gerard or not? You said it didn’t matter to you and that’s all I care about.”

  Juliet turned to her great-uncle. “Sir, does it matter to you if he can prove he is Gerard or not?”

  “I believe him already, so does Chandler and you of course.”

  Helen tossed her vinaigrette down in disgust breaking the bottle on the floor. “It matters to me that my son and grandson are going to have their inheritance stolen by this French scoundrel.”

  “I must tell them, Gerard, or she will never shut up about it. You can protect Tully if he is turned out.”

  “Tully?” Chandler asked. “Your groom?”

  “Yes, he was Father’s batman during the war. He had thought me dead and came back here hoping for word of me.”

  General Cochran started laughing and rang for a servant. “He’s the one who brought the trunk.”

  When the butler entered he said, “Send to the stable and have Tully come to the
house. Make sure he hasn’t been mucking a stall or something.”

  “What is so funny?” Helen demanded. “He could be an accomplice.”

  “It’s just like Gerard to have a certainty and not reveal it. Come to think of it, one of his proofs of identity is his reprehensible sense of humor.”

  Tully appeared dressed not in the good clothes he’d bought with Gerard’s largesse but in his worn batman’s uniform. He had been expecting this. How? Juliet, of course. She never left anything to chance.

  “General Cochran, sir.” Tully clicked his heels together.

  “Do you know this young man?”

  “Gerard Cochran, sir. I’ve known him since he was a child.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” the general said.

  “But how do we know Tully is who he says he is?” Roth demanded.

  “I happen to have my military papers right here.” He placed them on the table.

  “Tully, I leave you to wrestle with the solicitors. I think I need a drink.” The general turned at the door. “And Tully?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Why didn’t you come forward before?”

  “I feared my reception, coming home without the major or his son.”

  Helen glared at Nash. “Do something. Say something.”

  Nash stood and extended his hand. “Welcome to the family, Gerard. Such as it is.”

  * * * * *

  Juliet looked around the rose garden, so tame in the sun after such momentous doings in the library. Even though the afternoon was fair they did not ride. First there had been a conference mounted in the breakfast parlor between Helen, Claude and Roth. Cochran, Chandler and Nash later retreated to the estate office with Mayhew. The other ladies went cutting roses accompanied only by Gerard and Jack who wandered off toward the linden plantation to the east.

  “I think they might have included you since this all has to do with you,” Juliet said as she clipped a white rose.

  “I’ve done enough for one day. Recall I’m still wounded.”

  “As though you regard that. Do you think Helen will dare bring any kind of legal action?”

  “Not without Nash’s support.” Gerard held out the basket for her next clipping. “So fortunate he came over to our camp.”