Fashioned for Love

by Anna Hartman

  My darling Rosalind,

  If you are reading this letter it means that I didn’t have time to finalise my plans and that you, my darling girl, will have to make some quick and tough decisions.

  I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I also hope you have found this letter on time. You know me better than anyone and loved my old briefcase ever since you were a little girl, always pestering me to give it to you, so there was no better place for this letter. I knew you’d find it.

  The truth is, I’ve known for a while that I am not well and may not have that long, I did not want to worry your mother or stop you following your dreams, so I was working very hard to put my affairs in order before I pass on But if you are reading this letter, it means I ran out of time. And here’s what I think you should do.

  I have made some unwise business decisions, taken bad advice and I have recently discovered that I have been deliberately given some very bad advice by people I trusted. I have lost a lot of money because of it but even if I hadn’t, the upkeep of Langley House would eventually be too much for me or any individual for that matter. It is a huge estate, way too big to be a family home especially as I cannot see you ever moving in with a husband and lots of children, and it’s fine. I need to you to be happy and express yourself through fashion or whatever it is you end up doing. You are talented and smart and I believe you will make a huge difference in your field.

  However I also believed that old beautiful houses should be loved and enjoyed by generations to come so I have been in talks with Brockley Graham, the hotelier. We have discussed his company leasing the property and most of the land for 30 years and converting the house into a hotel.

  I’m sure you’ll like him when you meet him, he is a smart and shrewd businessman, but also very fair and honest. Once the agreement has been finalised I would like you to personally supervise the conversion of the house into a hotel and I would like to make sure that the groundskeeper's cottage is done up first to the highest possible standard. Let your mother decorate it as she pleases as it will be her home, apart from her personal items she’s free to take whatever art and furniture she wants from Langley house but once she has made her choice, the rest will be part of the lease agreement.

  Find yourself a very good solicitor and a business manager and don’t involve Edward as he cannot be trusted. Do not take any advice from him, he does not have your best interest at heart.

  Go with your gut instinct, you are so clever and I believe in you

  Good luck my sweet girl, I love you forever

  Daddy

  Rosalind didn’t even realise she was crying until her tears started falling on the letter smudging the ink as they hit the monogrammed paper.

  She sat there crying for a long time, at the same time pleased that her father had made some plans and wanted her to know about them but so sad that they haven’t spoken about it before his death. She missed him so much.

  CHAPTER 3

  Edward Smith’s secretary called Rosalind to confirm meetings with three property developers that had shown interest in Langley House. Mr Smith would come along to the meetings and that made Rosalind wary. Her father’s words kept playing in her head but she couldn’t find any signs of foul play in her father’s paperwork.

  Rosalind made sure she was as well prepared as she could be for the meetings, she did background searches on each company, figured out how much money they would need so that her mother would never had to worry about a thing, she wasn’t too worried about herself. She was young, educated and had plenty of opportunities.

  She wore a carefully selected outfit that made her feel confident and powerful. Wide legged black trousersuit, white shirt with crispy collars and cuffs, the highest of Louboutin heels with nails and lips that matched their soles perfectly. Her hair was blowdried into soft waves and she took her father’s briefcase, with the letter tucked inside it as an extra good luck charm.

  She took the train to London and then a taxi from Paddington to Edward Smith’s office in the city.

  This time Edward Smith wasn’t taken by surprise but looked confident and cocky, the way Rosalind always remembered him.

  Edward Smith had been Lord Langley’s friend since boarding school and after a brief stint on a trading floor he had worked for his friend as his Business manager, looking after his investments. On his reputation for working for the Langley’s he had been able to pick up many affluent clients and had a healthy and hugely profitable business.

  “Rosalind, so nice to see you again. Flatex Ltd will be coming in first. I suggest you let me do the talking as I have spoken to them before and understand the current situation and business in general.”

  Rosalind didn’t bother to to answer, who did he think he was? It was her future, her family estate and her father’s legacy they were talking about. They walked into the meeting room where Mr Smith gave her a printed spreadsheet that showed in no uncertain terms that the coffers were all but empty.

  “So as you can see, we need to move fast. Once we start getting into red, it will be very hard to get a good price.”

  “Of course, so what about all the investments you have been looking after for my father?”

  For a second Mr Smith’s eyes narrowed, then he quickly fixed a smile on his face and replied.

  “Your father made some unwise investments, so there are no money left.”

  “And as his trusted advisor you didn’t advise him otherwise?”

  “You know your father, he could be stubborn once he decided something”

  “yes, but never at business. He was always willing to take expert advice when it came to business.”

  “Oh Rosalind, of course it is hard for you to process that he was not perfect, but unfortunately he could be difficult to work with.”

  Before Rosalind had time to respond Edward’s secretary announced that Flatex has arrived.

  Two middle aged men in suits walked in, one was tall and thing the other short and chubby and they instantly reminded Rosalind of Jasper and Horace Baddun, Cruella de Vil’s wingmen. She had to bite her lip to suppress a giggle as they were introduced to her. .David White. the chubbier one took the lip biting as a flirtatious gesture and gave Rosalind a once over and nodded approvingly. He appreciated feminine women.

  As they sat down. The men dominated the conversation, every time Rosalind tried to ask a question he dismissed her and said that he already knew the answer and would brief Rosalind later not to waste time.

  The way the conversation was going felt to her that they had already agreed the deal and today was just for show.

  The frustration was really getting to her until she felt that she would either have to say something and change the course of the conversation she would burst into tears.

  So she cleared her throat and spoke.

  “With all due respect Edward, this is my property we are talking about and if I want to ask a question before making a decision I feel I fully have the right to do so”

  “Of course Rosalind, I’m just aware that you are not very experienced in business and I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself”

  “Well by saying that in fron of these two gentlemen, you kind of just did. I’m sorry but is it really that you are offering us £3 million for the house and grounds and and top of that to clear any debts and pay off all the staff?”

  “YEs, that’s right Miss Langley.” The taller man responded

  “And you think this is a fair deal?”

  “Well yes, the house is big but needs a lot of work and big investment to make it into a profitable housing development”

  “The estate is worth at least £10 million”

  “Yes once developed, which I believe you have no funds nor interest for”

  “I’m sorry gentlemen but I think you are wasting both my time and yours. Your offer is beyond ridiculous, so low that it’s criminal.” Rosalind stood up to leave.

  The shorter one spoke “Miss Langley this is just our star
ting point, of course we could always look for increasing the offer a little. SAy up to £5 million”

  “I currently have an offer on the table that has much better terms and triple the money”

  The skinny man’s eyes darted toward Edward as to say that we had this deal in the bag.

  “Rosalind darling, I don’t think bluffing is going to take us anywhere. These gentlemen are fully aware that they are the first people we are meeting.”

  “I’m not bluffing, but I have heard enough. I am not willing to sell to Flatex, I don’t like your plans, I don’t like your attitude and I sure as hell don’t like your offer. Thank you for your time but there will be no need for further discussion” She picked up her papers, threw them into the briefcase and walked out the door.

  On her way out she asked Edward’s secretary to cancel the rest of the scheduled meetings.

  With gritted teeth she had to admit that Brockley Graham had been right, they all wanted the house and the land to break it into dozens of flats and small houses, in two years there would be a fast trainline opening from London Paddington to Bradenbury cutting the travel time to 50 minutes so this would become prime commuter belt and those commuters would jump at the chance to live in beautiful surroundings, a lively village with all the services you’d need and flat in the grounds of a grand stately home.

  Of course the developers wanted to buy as cheaply as possible and clearly thought that Rosalind was young and easily led, so one after the other they told her that the reason the property wasn’t worth more, was that it needed so much work and that stately homes in general had a very niche market so to find a buyer who wanted to make it into a family home would take a long time. And they all knew that the Langleys had no time.

  She re-schedule the meetings with the other interested parties on her own. She bounced uncle Edward’s calls and got a lawyer to draw a letter to terminate their collaboration.

  The only one who wanted to buy the estate without breaking it into houses and flats was a Middle-Eastern oil billionaire who wanted to buy the house for his family home. He was talking about his plans for helipads, outdoor pool and bullet proof gates surrounding the property, he also wanted all the art and furniture as part of the deal.

  The oil tycoon offered a lot more than the others, but Rosalind felt sick thinking what all the changes would do to her ancestral home.

  Rosalind knew that whatever they decided to do, they had to make enough money to provide her mother somewhere to live and cover her living costs as comfortably as possible for the rest of her life. As she was doubtful that Sylvia would suddenly start working at the age of 56.

  Rosalind could always get a job and support herself, she had obtained an Art history degree from Edinburgh before starting at Parsons, so she would be ok, maybe she could become a curator in an art gallery or museum whilst finishing her studies part time.

  That night she had dinner with her mother..

  They sat by the kitchen table, her mother had done the cooking as she did most nights now that they had let the chef go. A summer spent in a Paris cookery school as a young girl had paid off, and despite being so far removed from ordinary life Lady Langley still knew how to cook, she may not know how to pay bills on the computer or call a plumber but she still made a fantastic cassoulet and crème brulee. She had picked one of Lord Langley’s favourite wines to accompany the meal, the wine they always bought in bulk straight from the vineyard during their holidays in their home in South of France. A beautiful home they had sold the year before just before Lord Langley died.

  “Mother, we need to have a serious conversation” Rosalind said whilst wrapping her cardigan tighter around her newly slender frame. She had lost a lot of weight during the past 9 months. First she had lost her appetite due to grief and recently she just was too stressed to eat anything. In order to save money, they kept the heating turned down most of the time and today, although a warmish early spring day, there was definitely a chill in the air.

  For once Lady Langley looked receptive and ready to listen to what her daughter had to say.

  “We have no money left and unless we sell something quick we will lose it all to our creditors. We have enough for living costs for another month, and even that’s pushing it,apart from that there’s nothing left We need to decide what to do now and then do it”

  “I see, have you met up with the all the developers?”

  “Yes, five of them. No matter how much I dislike Brockley Graham, his offer seems the fairest and would let us still own the estate even if we lose the control over it for the next 30 years or so. He wants an answer soon though and if we say no, the offer is off the table for good”

  “So what does he suggest?”

  “He wants to lease the house and most of the land for 35 years, pays us an annual fee of 200 000 for the lease and we get to live in the Groundskeeper's cottage, which he will pay to refurbish to our specifications. We will also be able to a named suite and all the other facilities in the hotel when we want”

  “So where’s the catch?”

  “I don’t know, I can’t find one. He also tells me that this was agreed in principle with daddy before he died”

  “Groundskeeper's cottage” Lady Langley smiled sadly. It’s a sweet little house but needs a lot of work plus there’s hardly enough room for the 2 of us”

  “Well I’m not planning to stay here, once you are settled and I know you are ok. I’ll be heading back to New York to try to pick up my fashion design course where I left it, and in the meantime I’ll be looking for a job in London.”

  “I see. Well I suppose that money would pay for our living costs, your school fees and we could maybe have a cleaner”

  “Mother you could definitely have a cleaner, even a part time maid if you wanted to.”

  “So what does he want to do with the house?”

  “Convert it into a luxury country house hotel, with a spa and golf course and obviously keep the tennis courts and swimming pool that are already here. Maybe build an annexe for extra rooms or luxury chalets for those who want privacy but 5 star service”

  “So this would be a building site for months”

  “Yes. At least a year I think. The second best offer comes from Mr Ahmad Al Emary from Abu Dhabi, he would like this as his family home and apart from our personal items he wants to buy it all, furniture, art, and all the land and buildings. He will pay 15 million in cash plus take over all our debts and we need to be out in 30 days. That would be a fresh start for us with zero baggage”

  “But we’d have nothing left from our ancestors! I am willing to let go a lot of stuff but there are pieces of furniture and artwork your father and I chose together during out travels not to mention things that have been in the family for decades. What about the other offers?”

  “Well some want just the house, others just the land and they would be developing it into houses and flats and the offers range from 2 million for the house to 10 million for everything”

  “So Mr Graham’s offer makes most sense. Have you spoken to Mr Smith to see what he recommends? I just cannot even bear to think of the sniggering once the village people find out that I, Lady Langley, the patron of so many charities am indeed the biggest charity case myself”

  “You are not a charity case mother, it’s just that this house is very expensive to keep and we have no cash. And about Mr Smith, I went to see him and if I am perfectly honest I don’t trust him and would like to do this deal without his input. In fact I have given him notice to end our contract with him”

  “But he has worked for your father for 35 years? Your father trusted him, they went to boarding school together and he is your godfather! There is something you are not telling me Rosalind and I want to get to the bottom of this. But in the meantime, contact Mr Graham and invite him over for tea on Thursday and be on your best behaviour”

  “Yes mother” Rosalind knew that Brockley Graham would be her only chance but she still didn’t want to deal with him.r />
  CHAPTER 4

  The day before Brockley Graham came over for tea, Rosalind went up to her father’s dressing room, she ran her hand over the Savile row suits hanging in neat straight lines on the rails. She would need to pack all of these away and donate to charity, maybe one of those charities that gave people clothes for job interviews. Her father would have like that, but it would still be a really hard job. She picked up a neatly folded pile of made to measure Turnbull and Asser shirts, the finest egyptian cotton. They felt smooth and soft under her hand. Rosalind decided to keep two, they were too big for her but would be great to wear around the house. She chose a plain white one and and Oxford blue, the colour that would always remind her of her father. She could wear them whenever she needed to feel her father’s presents or even as nightshirts, the material was soft enough and then she’d have something of his.

  Rosalind was coming to terms with the fact that Mr Graham was telling the truth and now she would have to, not only swallow her pride and accept his offer but work alongside him to convert the house as was her father’s wish.

  This would mean at least a year, maybe longer, before she could go back to her own life again. This was not ideal but she wanted to fulfil her father’s wish and a part of her loved the idea that she would have an input on what would become of her childhood home. At least she could make sure they wouldn’t ruin it and create some modern hideous interior that would be so out of place in this beautiful historic building

  An hour before the meeting Lady Langley received an angry call from Edward Smith.

  “Sylvia, what is this. That spoiled daughter of your has terminated our business relationships. This is not how you treat loyal friends?”