Chapter 16
Oh God. It was about to get even worse, wasn’t it?
Mathilda straightened her spine and told herself to put on her big girl panties. Her life was about to change in one way or another—but she shouldn’t complain. She was incredibly fortunate in so many ways.
Lincoln handed her the papers and pointed at the one the chaotic wind had put on top. She scanned it with a mounting sense of disbelief.
“So all the Aberdeen money would go to this…what, Anglo-Saxon heritage group? Their mission is…segregation? Am I reading this right?”
“That’s what I got too. The group was established a long time ago, in the seventeen-hundreds, so it’s hard to apply the language to the current day. Maybe we’re misunderstanding it.”
She quoted from the page. “‘Dedicated to the Preservation, Glorification and Perfection of Pure Englishe Bloodlines.’ Hard to misunderstand that.” She jumped to her feet.
“Where’s that barrister or whatever?” She was so rattled that she couldn’t even remember his name.
“Sasha!” She yelled in the direction of the outhouse. “I need that lawyer!”
“He’s a little busy! Be right with you!” Sasha called from over there. The poor man must still be doing his business. Well, she had more important business for him.
“Let’s go.” Mathilda beckoned Lincoln to follow her. “Please,” she added quickly. Hard to remember her manners when she was this riled up.
Forgoing a fortune was one thing. Knowing it was going to a heinous cause, that was something different.
Nothing against pure English bloodlines—which she didn’t even qualify for, by the way—but with everything going on in the world, was that really the most important cause to direct the Aberdeen funds towards?
Lincoln kept pace with her. “Are you kidding, I wouldn’t miss this,” he murmured.
That made her smile, which in turn brought her to a calmer state of mind. She was unreasonably glad that Lincoln was sticking close to her. He had just the right mix of supportiveness and humor to keep her from going off the deep end.
She should have prepared for this moment. But she hadn’t.
Ever since that fateful meeting with Ruby and her parents, she’d focused on her studies, then her research, then the ‘alalā restoration project. Every time the name Aberdeen snuck into her thoughts, she banished it far away with a mental ‘not yet.’ But time moved on, like it or not, and here she was. Maybe she shouldn’t have stuck her head in the sand for the past nine years.
The outhouse was a metal-roofed shed perched over a deep pit in the lava rocks, into which they’d poured some cement to make a septic tank.
The toilet was gravity fed, so it flushed as long as there was enough water in the catchment tank.
If the water pressure wasn’t high enough, you had to fill a bucket at the bigger tank and dump it down the toilet.
Lucky for Philip Phelps, they’d gotten plenty of rain lately. Still, his face was gray when he emerged from the little shed, obsessively rubbing his hands with their industrial-grade sanitizer.
“You.” Mathilda pointed the sheaf of papers at him. “Tell me exactly what happens if the Aberdeen Bequest expires.”
“Well, the monies will be disbursed to various causes close to the hearts of the old Marquess of Aberdeen and Mr. Sutton-Spencer. They were two eccentric gentlemen who shared certain interests.”
“Various causes? Not just this Saxon bloodline stuff?”
“Oh no, that’s just part of it. They were also passionate about hunting.”
“Hunting? Like what, foxes?”
“Nooo.” The lawyer hesitated, wincing as he went on. “Their particular joy was hunting birds.”
“Birds?” Mathilda thought her head might explode. “What kind of birds? Like game birds? Pheasants and so forth?” Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
“No. They enjoyed hunting rare and exotic birds. Egrets, herons, birds of paradise, even owls and songbirds. It was not an unusual pursuit for the nobility, and it gave them an opportunity to travel together.”
“So romantic. Let’s go travel to a faraway land and shoot some songbirds.” Mathilda shook her head in disgust.
“It was a different time, obviously. The ladies used to wear plumage in their hats, and sometimes even entire preserved songbirds. It’s quite fascinating, actually, the history of plume-hunting.
It became quite a craze, until so many birds were killed during nesting season that there was a backlash.
As a matter of fact, that’s when the first early conservation movement was born. ”
“Yeah well, count me in for the backlash. You’re saying that some of the Aberdeen funds could go to bird-hunting? What does that mean?”
“The mission is to establish hunting preserves open to…well, not exactly the public. Open to members of the British nobility and their guests. The two gentlemen were a bit snobby, to suit their time. Funds will also be used to lobby politically against conservation efforts.”
Mathilda closed her eyes, feeling a bit nauseous. Could any cause be quite so opposite of what she herself cared about? She was trying to restore native bird populations, not hunt them.
“Okay, what else?”
“They had quite a few foreign investments, both of them. You might call them ‘colonialists’. Some of the funds are earmarked for further explorations in that area. They were true believers in the might of the British Empire.”
Mathilda threw up her hands. “Great. So if I don’t marry Duncan, I’m unleashing a bunch of money that will go toward killing birds, glorifying snobby English bloodlines, and finding new indigenous populations to colonize. Do I have that right?”
“More or less.” Philip Phelps cleared his throat. “Again, this is a relic from a different time, you have to keep that in mind.”
Lincoln spoke up for the first time since the lawyer had begun talking. “Since it was such a different time, is there a chance the terms could be changed?”
“Yes! Brilliant idea.” Mathilda shot the lawyer a triumphant look. “Lincoln knows lots of lawyers, he’s always talking about them. I bet they can find a loophole. Right, Lincoln?”
He shrugged uneasily. “I can’t speak for them, but…”
Phelps shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s a legally executed document that has withstood two centuries of frustrated Aberdeen and Spencer-Sutton legal challenges. Have you, er, looked at what Mr. Aberdeen wrote to you?”
“No, not yet. I think I might need some privacy for that.” Maybe she could run away into the jungle and never look back. But how could she live with herself knowing she’d been responsible for more birds getting killed?
No, face it, there was no way out of this except through it.
She glanced at Lincoln, who’d really come through for her in this moment of trauma. He’d listened to her, stayed by her side, supported her.
Sadness swept through her as she met his long-lashed gaze.
She didn’t know if she and Lincoln would have ever worked.
She’d kept something pretty important from him, and she’d been quite hypocritical by teasing him so much about being a billionaire.
He might not be interested in her anymore. She wouldn’t blame him.
But every time she was near him, her skin tingled and the world felt more bright, more fascinating. And she saw that same spark in his eyes, too.
Now she’d never know what it would be like to actually kiss him, or do any of the delicious things that might follow.
Her chances of avoiding marriage to an Aberdeen were going down fast. What did her personal wishes matter when it came to the consequences of letting the bequest expire?
Wouldn’t it be better for the entire world if she controlled those funds herself and could direct them where she wanted them to go?
She straightened her spine and gave both men a formal nod. “Please excuse me for a bit. Mr. Phelps, make yourself at home. You’re fortunate that we have one extra cot in the visitor tent. Lincoln, can you please show him the way?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, clearly reluctant to leave her.
“Yes. I need to read all this.” She lifted the fistful of papers that included Duncan’s proposal.
After one last lingering look, Lincoln beckoned for the British barrister to follow him. “Come along, then. I’ll introduce you to our roommate and the resident geckos.”
She watched them stroll toward the guest tent. A billionaire, a pilot, and a barrister walk into a jungle…there had to be a joke in there somewhere.
No time for levity, she told herself sternly. She wiped the smile from her face and headed for her own tent to find out what the adult Duncan Aberdeen had to say to her.