With that done, I turned to the post. My mother’s letter was on top. After speaking with Delaney, I’d forgotten all about it. At some point—soon—I’d have to tell her about my move. I had no illusions she’d receive the news with any pleasure. She’d worked so hard to marry me into that illustrious family, walking away from them would strike her as a sign of idiocy. Well, it was done now. She’d have to accept it.
Enclosed in her letter was a bank draft for a tidy sum. Interesting. I knew Mother was coming to England for the Season, as she insisted on bringing my younger sister out to London society. Apparently one disastrous marriage in the family wasn’t enough to discourage her. I wondered why she’d sent money ahead, and scanned the letter.
Oh, dear. “As the time approached for Lily’s debut I found myself far too occupied to travel with her to England, yet Lily was so insistent upon having a London Season, I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”
Odd, she’d never had any trouble telling me no.
I read further. “It occurred to me since you should now be out of mourning, you could introduce your sister to society. We would have needed your sponsorship in any event, so I see no reason for my presence. Instead, I have enclosed a bank draft, which should cover a new wardrobe for Lily, and any expenses you should encounter, and I have sent Lily to you with your aunt Henrietta. I’m sure you’ll be delighted to see them.”
Aunt Hetty? She was sending Lily with Aunt Hetty? Not that I’d mind having her visit. Quite the opposite in fact. She was my father’s sister, younger by ten years, and had lived with us since our Akron days, after her husband died of influenza. She’d still been young at the time, but rather than remarry she chose to live in our home. She even came with us when we moved to New York, and was one of the few things that made that city bearable. She was always friendly and outspoken, never giving up her small-town ways, which often embarrassed my mother as she tried to break into New York society.
Which was why I found it hard to believe she’d put Lily in Aunt Hetty’s care for a trip across the Atlantic. Hetty would strike up a friendship with anyone. Heavens! Lily was as likely to spend the crossing playing cards with the stewards, as meeting what my mother would term, the “right” people. I mulled over the arrangement. Mother must be very busy indeed.
The letter went on to give the name of their ship and expected arrival date—in three days! She also professed all her love and that of my father. I stared at the signature for several minutes. Had this really been written by my mother? What had happened to her? In my season, the only time Mother ever left my side was when I was dancing. Yet here she was leaving me in charge of Lily’s debut. And with no exacting instructions as to whom she was to marry. Was she leaving that for me to decide—or, heaven forbid, to Lily? Since there was no mention of these details, I’d have to wait and see what Lily could tell me.
On one point in the letter I had to agree; I’d be delighted to see both my sister and Aunt Hetty. Goodness, I’d better get busy. I should make some social calls immediately, and let it be known I was back in town, and would soon have my sister and aunt with me. And I should deposit that bank draft as soon as possible.
I buttered a slice of toast and opened the next letter, this one from my solicitor, requesting a meeting at my earliest convenience. Since Mr. Stone’s office was near my bank, I penned a quick reply, stating I could be there in an hour’s time, and had Jenny send it off with the kitchen boy. As that was the entirety of my correspondence, I settled in to enjoy my breakfast when I heard an imperious voice at the door.
“Of course she’s at home. Where else would she be at this hour?”
Fiona?
I scrambled from the desk and rushed to the front hall. A tall, elegant woman with mounds of chestnut hair, topped with a plumed toque, was staring down her rather long, narrow nose at Mrs. Thompson.
“It’s quite all right, Mrs. Thompson,” I said, moving forward to greet my friend. “I’m delighted to see Lady Nash.”
Fiona swung around at the sound of my voice, her green eyes sparkling. “There you are.” I took her outstretched hands and guided her to the drawing room.
“Have you developed psychical abilities?” I asked, as we settled ourselves on the sofa. “How on earth did you know I was living here?”
“Well, I didn’t until five minutes ago, when George told me you were his new neighbor. How could you let me hear of it second-hand?”
I instantly realized my faux pas. George is Fiona’s brother. Fiona has long been my dearest friend. Oh, I’d written her letters while stuck at Harleigh, telling her how I longed to leave my in-laws. But once I leased the house everything happened so quickly I neglected to tell her I’d actually done it. Of course she felt slighted. “I’m so sorry, Fi. I should have sent round a note, but I’ve only been here a few days, and—did you just say five minutes ago?”
“Yes, I was having a spot of breakfast with George, when he mentioned you’d moved in here, so I rushed right over to see you.”
“So you just left him at the table?”
She let out a snort of laughter, which completely contradicted her image as a perfectly polished lady. One of the things I loved about Fi was just how unladylike she could be in private moments. “Well, I suppose I did. Simply dropped my toast on my plate and ran out.” She looked at me in wonder. “Do you know, I quite believe he expected that reaction? Probably gave me the news so he could rid himself of my presence and get back to his newspaper.” She waved a gloved hand. “But forget George. Now that I’m here, tell me, when did you become so adventurous? You spoke of moving to town, but I can’t believe you did it.”
“Oh, Fi, it was well past time to be out on my own. I’ve been living as a guest, in what used to be my home, for far too long.” Heaving an exaggerated sigh I lowered my voice several octaves. “I’m the elder countess now, you know.”
Fiona wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That title only applies if you and Delia are in the same place.” Her gaze darted around the room. “She isn’t here, is she?”
I chuckled at her panic and shook my head.
“Whoever devised that term had no respect for women. It makes you sound so old.”
“And useless. Delia managed the house. Graham managed the estate. I had no purpose, nothing to do. Even visiting was out of the question as I was in mourning. The very moment I could decently leave the house I came to town to meet with an estate agent. And here I am.”
“Good girl.” Fiona reached out and squeezed my hand. “And how clever of you to have your own money.”
I chuckled. “The credit goes to my father. He set up this account although the Wynn family resented it at the time. They were rather offended at the idea of a wife having independent means—not the English way, you know.”
“Well, I’m glad your father had such foresight, and that you can be independent.”
“It’s quite a heady feeling, but I will have to be careful. The account has to produce an income for Rose and me, and it will hardly allow for extravagant living. Although”—I couldn’t help grinning here—“I did just receive a lovely check from my mother yesterday, which I was about to go and deposit when you arrived.” I stood and smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt. “And I’m afraid I have an appointment with my solicitor. I hate to cut our time so short, dearest, but the only way I can get there on time is if I send for a hansom right now.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Fiona said, rising to her feet. “My carriage is outside. I’ll drop you at your solicitor’s office. I must run an errand or two myself. They won’t take long, but if you haven’t completed your business by the time I return, I’ll wait for you.” She waved away my protests before I could even make them. “No, no. I haven’t seen you for months, Frances. I’m not letting you get away from me so easily.”
We left the house a few minutes later. I gave Fiona’s driver the direction, and half an hour later, I was walking into Mr. Stone’s office, still smiling at one of
Fiona’s jokes.
I’d always liked Mr. Stone. He was of my father’s generation and worked with him on my marriage settlement. Once Reggie’s parents had died, I preferred to work with him on any legal business pertaining to the estate, rather than use the family solicitors. A young clerk led me into Stone’s lightly paneled and carpeted office, where he came around his desk to greet me, a warm smile on his round face.
“Good morning, my lady,” he said, taking the hand I offered in a firm grip. “Thank you for responding so quickly to my message. Please take a seat.” He directed me to one of two upholstered guest chairs facing the desk. “Would you care for tea?”
“Thank you, no,” I said, as I seated myself. Surprisingly, he took the chair beside me rather than the one behind the desk. We passed a few pleasantries back and forth. Then he leaned forward, focused on the carpet a moment, and released a sigh. Oh, dear, this was not going to be good news.
His gaze returned to mine. “I have some unfortunate information to relate to you, my lady. Your brother-in-law seems to feel the funds your father set aside for you should belong to the Wynn family.” He paused to let the words sink in.
“That doesn’t surprise me, Mr. Stone, but how has this come to your attention?”
“He’s filed a suit in court to claim the money.”
“What?” This did come as a shock. “He can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid he is, and before I say another word, I must assure you he has no hope of success in that claim. The documentation is clear, and states the account is for your personal use.”
His assurance did ease my anxiety somewhat, but I was still confused, and appalled. “If that’s true, why would he attempt such a thing? What can he hope to gain?”
“Such suits take time, and can also become public. He may hope to reach a settlement with you, so you may avoid inconvenience, or a scandal.”
“I would think he would be even more eager than I to avoid a scandal. As to inconvenience, what manner of inconvenience can this cause me?”
He sat back and sucked air in between his gritted teeth, then pressed his lips into a scowl. A knot tightened in my stomach. “Just tell me, Mr. Stone.”
He released his breath. “Your bank account has been frozen until such time as the documentation can be reviewed by the court.”
My astonishment must have shown on my face because he held up a cautioning hand before I could reply. “I will file a response immediately, asking the court to dismiss the case, due to lack of grounds, but it may not be successful. Your brother-in-law is a peer, and that does carry some weight.”
My account frozen. And for how long? I had little money left at the house. How would I pay the staff? Or Mr. Stone for that matter? “How can I ask you to do anything about this, when it seems I have no money to pay you?”
“You will have, I assure you. Sooner or later your account will be back in your hands. Now, why don’t I fetch that tea for you, and we’ll discuss our options.”
It didn’t take long to discuss those options as they were few. I absolutely refused to consider paying Graham off to make him drop his claim. The account had been greatly diminished after negotiating the lease on my house—thank goodness that transaction had happened before it was frozen—but even if I had a fortune, I would never reward Graham for his behavior. So Mr. Stone would file his brief, and if that didn’t work, I would somehow have to learn to live without money until the court made a ruling. A daunting prospect but after striking out on my own, I did not want to turn to my father for help.
Between the police looking into Reggie’s death and Graham freezing my account, I’d had just about all the bad news I could take. My head was still spinning when I stepped out of the office building and walked to Fiona’s carriage. She gave me a bright smile when her footman assisted me inside. “Perfect timing, my dear.” The smile disappeared when she saw my face. “My heavens, Frances. What happened?”
Oh, dear. Perhaps it was the influence of Mr. Stone, but I should school my expression to be less transparent. Although it didn’t matter at this point. I needed someone to confide in, and no one was a better confidante than Fiona. I revealed all while the coach took us through the busy streets to Fortnum’s. Her astonishment grew with each word.
“The rotter! The absolute rotter! Well, thank goodness for your mother’s check.”
I clutched her hand as my stomach did a little flip. “I’d forgotten all about that check. Fiona, I’m saved. Well, I’m almost saved. The money is supposed to pay for my sister’s wardrobe and our expenses.”
“I remember your mother, dear. I suspect she was more than generous. It should stretch to pay your staff, and household expenses as well. At least for some little while.”
“I didn’t mention the check to Mr. Stone.” I worried my lower lip between my teeth as I considered this problem. “How can I deposit it if I haven’t an account?”
Fiona tapped on the little door in the roof, and when the coachman responded, she gave him a new direction. “We’re going to your house?” I asked, confused.
“Robert should still be there,” Fiona stated, referring to her husband. “As things stand, perhaps he should cash the check on your behalf. He can deposit it into our account, then withdraw the money for you. I think all your transactions should be in cash for the time being.”
“That sounds rather like subterfuge,” I said, searching for alternatives and finding none. “And I must say, I admire the workings of your mind.”
Fiona’s husband, Sir Robert Nash, was indeed still at home when we arrived, but on the point of departure as we met him in the hall. The smile lighting his pleasant face upon greeting me, changed to a look of surprise, as Fiona linked her arm in his and turned him back into the drawing room. I muffled a laugh at the sight of this slender woman steering the taller, much sturdier, figure of her husband. Once we explained my situation, he agreed with her assessment. “The man’s a rotter,” he growled. “You’ve already dug that family out of a hole once. If they’re back in dun territory now, it’s Graham’s own fault.”
In all fairness, I couldn’t let that stand. “Well, actually it’s Reggie’s fault.”
“But hardly your problem,” Fiona pointed out, removing her hat from the artwork of her hair, and leaving it on a table near the door. “Come, let Robert take care of this business, and you and I will finally have that tea and gossip we spoke of this morning.” Fiona guided me to a seat while Robert departed for his bank.
It didn’t take long for the tea to provide the desired effect, and I began to see my situation more clearly. “I suppose I should wait to see if Mr. Stone is successful in having the case dismissed, before I tell my father what’s happened. I’d rather not involve him if the matter can be resolved soon.”
Fiona nodded. “You’re afraid he’d become upset.”
“No, I’m afraid he’d let Graham take the money, then tell me to give up the house and return to New York with Rose. He isn’t aware I’ve moved out on my own yet.”
“Would he really do that?” She wore a look of alarm. “I’d hate to see you leave England.”
“I assure you I wouldn’t like it either. Rose is British, and I want her to grow up here, and to be honest, I don’t want either of us to live under my mother’s influence. Rose would be polished and primed until she became so artificial, she wouldn’t have a single thought that didn’t come from my mother’s head. And as for me”—I suppressed a shudder—“I’m not ready to have my mother select my second husband.”
“Hmm, will there be a second husband, do you suppose?” Fiona took a bite of a biscuit and waggled her eyebrows in a wicked way. I had to laugh, but held up a restraining hand.
“Don’t even think about it. Someone else has been controlling my life for as long as I can remember; first my mother, then my husband, then my husband’s family. Now I finally have a chance to take control, and while it is a bit frightening, I quite like it.”
“Point taken,
but as a matter of reference only, you should be aware that with the right man, marriage can be quite wonderful.” At my glare she held up her hands in surrender. “And that is all I’ll say on the matter. Now about your sister. What do you have in mind for her?”
“Nothing yet, but since she’ll be on my doorstep in a matter of days, I’d better make some plans.” I rolled my cup between my hands as I tried to put my thoughts in order. “Of course I’ll be paying calls to let everyone know I’m in town, and my sister will be joining me. I’m sure that will trigger some invitations.” I looked up at my friend. “At least I think it will. Graham and Delia implied my living alone might raise a few eyebrows and cause me to be dropped from some guest lists. Would you agree?”
Fiona frowned as she considered my living situation. “I suppose that is possible with a few of the sticklers, but you are a widow so many people won’t bat an eye at your living alone. However, once your aunt arrives, even the sticklers won’t object. An older woman in your household should provide all the respectability you could want.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “You have never met my aunt.”
“Your aunt could be completely mad and it wouldn’t matter.” She wagged a finger at me. “You know I’m right.”
Indeed I did.
“Well, that’s settled. When does your sister arrive?”
“The day after tomorrow. So I only have Thursday to make calls.” I began ticking off items on my fingers. “I still need to get the house in order. I haven’t arranged for a carriage. Now I have to take Lily to the modiste, and I should update my own wardrobe as well, if I’m not to embarrass her. Goodness, I do have a great deal of work ahead of me,” I said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.
A Lady's Guide to Etiquette and Murder Page 4