Chapter 17
The next afternoon, Bex and Gordon were sitting in the study.
They had spent the day going through all the paperwork they could find.
Papers Bex had disregarded before because they were irrelevant to her accounting were now being scrutinised for any evidence of the ‘direct heir’.
Personal letters she had felt rude even scanning through were now being pawed over and dissected in hope of some hidden clue. But there was nothing.
‘I’ve got a major sense of déjà vu,’ Bex said as she picked up a small leather notebook and flicked it open to the first page. She stared at a list of hospital names, all of which had been crossed through, causing a memory to stir in the back of her mind.
Duncan had been helping her sort through the paperwork when he’d come across this one.
The pair of them had made a deal: that if he helped her for five days – help which included bringing her lunch – then she would go on a date with him.
Looking back at it now, Bex wondered if she’d already been falling for him then.
This mild-mannered Scot who looked like he should be on some sort of topless calendar.
She had fought it, naturally. Not only because she was there to work, but also because Duncan, in his recently broken-hearted state, was, in her opinion, undatable.
Given how much they’d had to get through, and the absence of any financial data inside it, they had paid the notebook little mind, and had stacked it with all the hospital correspondence, which was exactly what she did again, before turning back to Gordon and letting out a groan.
‘Part of me thinks that this could be his idea of a joke,’ she said, rubbing her forehead. ‘I can just imagine him, watching from wherever he is, laughing away.’
‘Aye. Or…’ Gordon said, removing his glasses only to leave the rest of his sentence hanging in the air.
‘Or?’ Bex pressed, not sure what Gordon had been going to say.
‘Well, he was a generous man. A good friend to both of us, I reckon. Maybe it was his way o’ makin’ sure I could bill him for hundreds of bloody hours of work.’
‘If that was the case, he could have just left us something in the will,’ Bex countered.
‘Aye, you’re probably right,’ Gordon said with a sigh. ‘And the last thing we want tae do is get this wrong. I’m sure ye’d agree. If we let the laird’s title go to the wrong person… I dinnae even know what the implications could be.’
Bex hummed as she contemplated the situation.
Gordon was right. She had seen families torn apart over inheritances a fraction of the size of this one.
But they had looked at all the known family members and one thing was certain: there wasn’t an heir that was more direct than Kieron, so if there was an answer, she wasn’t going to find it asking him.
As she sat there, mulling over the issue, Bex’s phone buzzed with a text from Lorna.
Moira’s. Tomorrow night. Sort out tartans.
Bex sent back a quick smiley-faced emoji and put the phone down.
A moment later, it buzzed again.
Do you have a black dress with you? Full-length?
No.
The next message came quickly.
No problem. I’ll get Eilidh to make one.
Bex responded with a thumbs-up emoji, thinking that was the end of it. But the barrage continued.
You’re a size twelve, right?
Yep.
Great. What sort of neckline do you want?
Gordon sighed heavily, cutting into her text exchange. ‘Do you think you might want to just call her rather than let that ruddy thing beep all the time?’
He wasn’t a grumpy man, but Bex could hardly blame him. The constant buzzing was annoying her, too.
‘Sorry,’ she said, quickly typing.
V-neck. Will speak later. I’m working.
She slipped her phone on to silent, placed it face down on the counter and moved across to Gordon. ‘Sorry about that. What do you need me to do?’
Gordon removed his glasses. With the amount of time he spent polishing his lenses, Bex couldn’t help but wonder if he needed them at all. Or whether they were just some sort of stress-relief tool. He was certainly using them for that now. ‘I think we might have to start looking beyond the study.’
‘Beyond the study?’ she echoed.
She had assumed, perhaps na?vely, that if they couldn’t find the answer here among the masses of paperwork, that would be the end of it.
Kieron would be marked as the heir, and they could all move on with their lives.
She’d go back to London and away from the penetrating gazes of both Duncan and Kieron.
But that didn’t look like it was going to happen.
‘There might be things in his room. Private safes, that sort of thing,’ Gordon continued.
It made sense, but one thought nagged at her.
‘Kieron isn’t going to like that,’ she said. ‘How are you going to explain it to him?’
‘Let me worry about the lad,’ Gordon replied. ‘We have to do what we have to do. Whether he’s Fergus’s nephew or not disnae change that he’s nae the heir until we’ve gone through all this. He should know that.’
There was another option beyond the castle that Bex wasn’t sure if she should mention or not. But if they were going to leave no stone unturned, then it made sense.
‘Maybe after this, we need to start talking to people,’ Bex said. ‘People in the village. People who knew Fergus well. See if they know anything.’
Gordon raised an eyebrow. ‘You’d think if folk knew there was another heir, they’d have said something, wouldnae they?
And as for people knowing him, I didnae grow up in the village, but I’d known him a good forty years and would have considered myself among those tight with him, and I can tell you, this was as big a shock to me as it was to you.
I don’t think folk know anything more than we do. ’
A long sigh escaped Bex. ‘I’m not so sure,’ she replied.
‘People were very loyal to Fergus. You have no idea how long these things can stay hidden. I’m sure there are hundreds of secrets here that have gone to the grave with people.
Maybe this was one of those Fergus decided, a little too late, that he didn’t want buried. ’
‘If that’s the case, I wish he’d been a bit more obvious about it,’ Gordon muttered. ‘I mean, if he had an heir, he could’ve just said it. He could have told me. He should’ve known I wouldnae judge him. No matter what the situation.’
That had to be it, Bex pondered. There was something to do with the situation that meant Fergus, for whatever reason, was too afraid to own up to it. A scandal of some sort. And possibly one big enough to rock the whole village if he was this desperate to keep it a secret.
Bex nodded. ‘Do you mind if I take a break?’ she asked, rubbing the back of her neck. ‘I feel like I’ve been staring at bits of paper for hours.’
‘Tell you what. Why don’t we call it a day?’
‘Really? It’s only three o’clock.’
‘I know, but I hate working when it’s dark like this. No point scanning through things when we’re tired. The worst thing would be missing something important because we weren’t thinking properly.’
Bex agreed.
‘Do you want a lift back to the village?’ he asked.
‘If that’s okay?’
‘Aye, it’s always grand, lass. You dinnae have to ask.’
She climbed into the car and they drove towards the village.
It was less than a five-minute drive from the castle to the centre, but they chatted the entire journey. Although they hadn’t been working together long, the pair had already learned a fair bit about one another.
Gordon had two grandchildren and was looking forward to retiring at the end of the year, though depending on how long this job went on, he was tempted to stop even sooner. He’d been married to his wife for forty-seven years, though she had turned down his first two proposals.
‘Knew from the first day,’ he had said once.
‘First time I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the one for me. But she took a bit more convincin’.
The second time I asked, I saw her waver.
She was tempted. But I hadnae done it properly.
So that’s what I did the third time. I asked her da’, got down on one knee, and the rest, as they say, is history. ’
It was a sweet story. Forty-seven years of marriage was definitely something to aspire to, just like her parents’ relationship.
‘At the cottage?’ Gordon said. Bex nodded and was about to thank him again when something made her stop.
Duncan was there, in the centre of the village, dressed in jeans and a thick coat, and just the sight of him was enough to make her throat tighten.
She wanted to keep going until he was securely out of view, but before she could say as much to Gordon, her eyes shifted to the dog at Duncan’s side. Ruby.
Ruby was Bex’s favourite, but normally, whenever Duncan went for a walk, it was with all the dogs. Not just one. Then, with a stomach-clenching nausea, Bex realised they were standing outside the vet’s office. Duncan had brought Ruby to the vet. Ruby was ill?
‘Actually,’ she said, turning to Gordon as her pulse rocketed, ‘can you just drop me here?’