Chapter 48
Caroline stared across the desk at Mr. Roxby of the law firm Forsters, Carlton, and Roxby.
“Are you quite sure, Mr. Roxby?” she uttered in disbelief. “The house, the money, it’s all…mine?”
“Oh, quite sure, Miss Halperston,” he answered firmly.
“We have attempted several times over the past two years to get in contact with you. Your father had the estate set up in a trust for you. It passed into your control once you reached your twenty-fifth birthday, or else on the occasion of your marriage, whichever should occur first.”
He peered at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
“Your mother informed us of your delicate constitution and the unlikelihood of your ever marrying. We understood that your precarious health made a meeting impossible before now, but we were planning on sending a representative down to Cornwall in the summer to”—he coughed—“pursue the matter to its furthest extent.”
“I see,” Caroline murmured. “It’s just, I was raised to believe that any property and money derived from my mother’s second husband, Mr. Needham. And that as such it would pass to my brother, Edgar, not me.”
Mr. Roxby looked quite shocked by this. “From Mr. Needham?” he echoed blankly. “Your mother’s second husband? Certainly not! To my knowledge, the man was a mere accountant’s clerk and unemployed when your mother met him.” His little mouth made a moue of distaste.
“Mr. Halperston by way of contrast was a wealthy man and held considerable assets. He had only completed purchasing the country house in Cornwall a month before his death. As I understand it, they had not yet taken possession of the estate when he passed.
“Your mother removed to Harrogate after the unfortunate event to take the waters while she recovered from her loss. I understand it was there that she met Needham. Her remarriage was somewhat—ahem—hasty.” Mr. Roxby looked primly disapproving.
“I believe they moved into the house in Cornwall with you shortly after.”
A certain stiffness entered his bearing.
“We made sure the matter was made quite plain to both Mr. and Mrs. Needham. A certain sum would be paid out annually to maintain the property and to provide for Mr. Halperston’s heir, but that neither your stepfather nor your mother would ever have access to the capital or hold the deed of ownership for any of his properties. ”
“Properties?” Caroline echoed. “As in the plural?”
“Certainly.” He glanced down at the file in front of him. “There is also a townhouse in Kensington and a villa in…” His finger traveled down the page “…Clifton.”
“Clifton?”
“It is a highly desirable suburb of Bristol. Both houses have caretakers seeing to their upkeep.” He paused. “I assure you we have been assiduous in discharging our duties and have written about these matters to you several times over the years.”
Caroline sat reeling as she took it all in. It was all hers. Her allegedly no good, blackguard of a father had in fact been a moneyed man of property! Mr. Needham had married Mama with nothing. Her mother had lied about everything.
Mr. Roxby leaned forward in his seat. “Am I to understand that the facts of the matter have been misrepresented to you, Miss Halperston?” he asked carefully.
She hesitated, spreading her hands wide. “My stepfather died when I was three, and perhaps my mother’s grasp of the situation was not good. She does not have much of a head for business I am afraid.”
Mr. Roxby sat back in his seat, regarding her shrewdly.
“If your brother has been raised in the expectation of inheriting”—he glanced down at the paperwork in front of him—“Benham Hall, or any part of your estate, then I am afraid he will be sorely disappointed. He has no legitimate claim to any part of your trust.”
Caroline breathed out. “I see.”
She really did not know what to say without causing considerable scandal.
She stood up and extended her hand for Mr. Roxby to shake.
“Would it be possible to schedule a further appointment with you soon, Mr. Roxby? Or perhaps with one of your partners? I realize I have sprung today’s appointment on you and taken you away from your regular work.
I can only apologize for taking up so much of your time. ”
“No, no, dear lady, you must not say so.” He hesitated.
“As a matter of fact, I am entirely at your disposal this morning.” Caroline was not entirely sure she believed him, but clearly he had decided her business must be his priority.
“To what was the matter pertaining?” he inquired politely.
“You would like to arrange the payment of your allowance, perhaps? Or to deposit a lump sum into a personal account for your own convenience?”
“Actually,” Caroline said, sitting back down again, “I would like to make a will, Mr. Roxby, as a matter of urgency. You see…” She took a deep breath. “I am shortly to be married and I—” Caroline bit her lip. “The truth is I do not want my next of kin to benefit if anything were to befall me.”
Mr. Roxby regarded her with a glimmer of understanding. “I see,” he said, nodding. “You wish to make your betrothed your heir?”
“I do. As soon as possible.” She could not really say why, but it felt suddenly imperative that this was done, and done quickly.
That white hand…she thought with a shiver, recalling it hovering over the letter from Forsters, Carlton, and Roxby.
How many such letters had it intercepted over the years? Dozens, most likely.
Mr. Roxby reached swiftly for paper and pen. “Nothing could be simpler, my dear Miss Halperston,” he said obligingly. “Let us see to the matter at once. There is no time like the present after all.”
An hour later, Caroline emerged from their offices feeling considerably lighter of spirit.
Her new will had been both signed and witnessed.
That gave her some peace of mind amid the storm.
The truth about her father and her newfound wealth had yet to sink in, but at least she was now in possession of some facts after a lifetime of blatant lies.
She looked about for Reg, who had promised to stay in the vicinity and escort her back to The Citadel once her business was concluded.
When they had made the arrangement, she had little known her business would take so long to conduct.
No doubt Reg had wandered off in search of some refreshment, she thought distractedly.
It must take a good deal of sustenance to maintain such a large burly frame as his.
At this point a hackney carriage pulled up beside her, drawn by two horses. The door swung open. “Get in,” growled a voice next to her ear, and Caroline found herself roughly grasped under both armpits and lifted off her feet.
“Get off me! Help!” She started to struggle but a big hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her shouts. From the inside of the carriage, a scrawny madwoman with wild eyes lunged at her and grasped hold of her with clawed hands, dragging her inside.
“Oi!” she heard a voice roar from across the street. Reg! Caroline kicked out and twisted, desperately, elbowing her attacker and trying to brace her booted feet against the step.
“Bitch!” he seethed and a rough blow between her shoulder blades sent her sprawling onto the floor of the carriage. Her assailant climbed in behind her, slamming the door inexorably shut behind them.