Chapter 1 #2
Her aunt and uncle resided in an elegant red-brick brownstone nestled along one of Crown Hollow’s most fashionable avenues—a tree-lined promenade where gas lamps flickered to life each evening and ladies in silk gloves exchanged glances behind parasols.
The home, with its wrought-iron railings and polished brass doorknobs, was a testament to his esteemed reputation, if not their sentiment.
Her uncle, a man of wealth and measured charm, was a senior partner at one of the oldest banking houses.
He attended every society function worth mentioning and knew the names and scandals of everyone who mattered.
Outside the gate, a sleek one-horse carriage waited beside the curb, its dark lacquered body catching the glow of the late afternoon sun. The driver stood stiffly by, gloved hands clasped, while the scent of coal smoke and lilacs drifted through the city air.
“Carson, we’re heading to Brown, Williams & Davis on Park Place,” Hubert said.
“Very good, sir.” Carson opened the door for her as he nodded to her uncle.
As she stepped toward the open carriage door, a sharp caw sounded. A raven fluttered overhead, its wings slicing the sky like a blade before it vanished beyond the rooftops.
Victoria paused.
Normally, she would not notice such things. A bird was just a bird. But today, with a letter in her pocket and the past pressing at her heels, it felt significant.
Once inside, they headed through the busy streets. Victoria clasped her hands in her lap, trying to hide the trembling. She was nervous, her mind filled with questions. What if this was a dream? What if there was some mistake? What if she was truly not inheriting Ravenfell Manor?
“No need to be nervous,” Hubert said, as though sensing she was on edge. “I know Mr. Williams.”
Her brows rose. “You do?”
“Yes, he was in the bank a few days ago looking to take out a loan to build a second home. Naturally, I agreed.” His smile was genuine before he turned serious. “Is this inheritance unexpected?”
His question was not one of prying, but more of concern. Victoria nodded. “I thought my parents sold the Ravenfell estate years ago. I can’t imagine why they kept it.”
The clop-clop of the horse’s hooves came to a slow as the carriage stopped.
The driver opened the door. Victoria stepped out onto the sidewalk, the afternoon sun beaming down around her.
She lifted her gaze to the stone building where the offices of Brown, Williams & Davis resided.
It was tucked between a perfumery and a clockmaker on one of the avenues.
The lamplighters were already out, moving down the street like a shadow.
Her uncle was at her side a moment later, taking her by the elbow and leading her into the building with a gentle nudge.
Moments later, they were ushered into Mr. Williams’s small but tidy office where they sat in velvet-backed chairs in front of a perfectly organized desk.
Mr. Roger Williams was a tall, thin man with wire-rimmed glasses perching on a narrow nose.
After a few pleasantries with her uncle, he sat before the polished mahogany desk in the oversized leather chair and folded his hands on top of it.
“I daresay that letter came as a bit of a shock to you, didn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Victoria replied. She kept her hands clenched together to keep him from seeing her tremble.
“Your father, Abner, was determined to keep his final wishes as quiet as possible.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Apparently, Ravenfell Manor has been in your family for generations. He didn’t want a distant relative to come sniffing around claiming the title, I gathered, though he never outright said it.
Your parents chose to leave the manor several years ago, but the property remains in excellent legal standing.
” He reached down and opened a drawer, then pulled out a thick folio and laid it on the desk.
He pushed it toward her. “The title passes to you now.”
She stared at the thick folio as though it were a venomous snake.
“After the death of your grandfather, Henry Ravenwood, the estate was locked in probate for years. Your father had a dickens of a time getting it out of probate. When he realized his father—your grandfather—had written into his estate that only a male heir could take possession, well…your father made sure it would pass to you.”
Victoria’s mouth went dry. She was their only child. She had no other siblings. And if her father hadn’t arranged his last will and testament the way he had, then the estate would have surely gone to a distant cousin.
Knowing her father, there was no way he’d allow that to happen.
“I see,” she said at last, still eyeing the thick folder.
“You are to take full possession of the estate in person, Miss Ravenwood,” Mr. Williams added.
“And what happens if she doesn’t?” Uncle Hubert asked.
Perhaps he sensed her unease. Indeed, her determination had waned a bit after hearing this news. But only a bit.
Mr. Williams’s expression did not change.
“Then Ravenfell remains sealed. The manor is not to be sold, divided, or otherwise disposed of. It is to remain within the Ravenwood bloodline or fall into ruin.” His gaze drifted back to her.
“I daresay that would be your father’s last wish. To see it fall into ruin.”
With a shaking hand, she reached for the folio and flipped it open. A survey of the property was on top, detailing the boundary. A single iron key rested on top of the survey, its teeth long and jagged. Ancient.
Mr. Williams cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “There is…one additional matter, Miss Ravenwood. The estate’s financial accounts.”
She lifted her gaze and met his. “The accounts?”
Next to her, Uncle Hubert shifted in his seat. “Wouldn’t those accounts be frozen after all these years?”
Ah, yes, the banker at heart. Of course, he’d ask that question.
Mr. Williams’s mouth twitched in a half grin. “One would think. However, your father and grandfather were, shall we say, men who planned for unforeseen events.”
He slid a second envelope across the desk to her. This one was thick and sealed with gold wax. The stamp on the seal was that of the Ravenwood sigil—a crowned raven, wings spread outward, perched upon a branch.
“There is a trust in your name. Quietly maintained by the Elderbloom branch of the Royal Bank of Rothbridge.”
Uncle Hubert sucked in a quiet breath as she snapped her head in his direction. Her uncle, as it were, worked for the Crown Hollow Royal Bank of Rothbridge.
Williams continued, as though neither of them had reacted. “Interest from assets has accumulated over the last several decades.”
“It…has?” she asked, her voice faint. She felt lightheaded all of a sudden. Pinpricks dotted her vision.
The solicitor nodded. “You’ll find it more than sufficient to restore Ravenfell to habitability. And perhaps to maintain a small staff, should you require one. Though there is already a caretaker on site. He should be able to assist you with any of your needs.”
He said it lightly, as though it were of no consequence someone was already there.
“A caretaker, you say?” Her uncle leaned forward, his elbow on his knee. “Someone lives there already?”
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Williams replied.
Victoria was aware of the wary glance her uncle gave her. She was also aware that moving into a crumbling estate with a mysterious caretaker was probably not the best idea.
But she would see it through, no matter what.
“Shall I set up an appointment for you at the bank?” he asked.
Her uncle started to answer, but she jumped in. “Yes, please. That would be helpful.”
“Do you have any other questions?” the solicitor asked.
She granted him a smile. “No, Mr. Williams. You’ve been generous with your time. Thank you for everything.”
She picked up the thick envelope with the banking information along with the folio and rose. Her uncle got to his feet. She sensed unease coming from him. They bid the solicitor farewell and headed back into the late afternoon.