Chapter Seven
Mr Thomas Sampson from Gates and Wilcox, the legal firm that Lionel had always used, came to see Wilhelmina the afternoon after the Duggans’ masquerade ball.
He was a tall and serious man and she felt that from the first moment of meeting him she was on the back foot.
‘The estate you wish to sell, Mrs St Claire, is unfortunately tied up in a caveat from your late husband’s cousin. Mr Simon St Claire has asked for a stay while he goes through his brother’s papers just to make certain that Belton Park is indeed legally yours to sell.’
‘The house was not entailed and I was Lionel’s wife for eleven years. The will I saw after his death was unencumbered.’
‘Mr Simon St Claire isn’t…how shall I say it…an easy man? We have had dealings with him over the past year and a half and he is a difficult client who likes to get his own way.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’
‘I for one should not wish to cross him personally and you are alone here and a woman…’ He left it at that.
‘Tell him to present his evidence, Mr Sampson, within a month. Otherwise I shall sell the house to anybody I want to.’
‘I will make sure to relate that to him, Mrs St Claire. Oh, and I almost forgot, one of my colleagues, Mr Elliott MacDonald, also asked me to send you his regards.’
Willa bit down on an answer. Did Mr Sampson know anything of their history? Was this another roundabout threat? But it seemed the man had completed all he had come to say as he stood and bade her farewell.
‘I will return in a month and let you know the outcome of all of this. I sincerely hope that this matter shall be resolved in your favour and if there is any movement on the matter I shall also send word.’
‘Thank you.’
Willa waited as he left and then sat on the chair by the window, watching the leaves of the trees in the garden shifting in the wind.
She had delayed on the sale of Belton Park for just this very reason.
She knew Lionel’s family was not happy at all with her inheritance of the house, for she had had various legal correspondence outlining all their grievances.
But this was the first time they had sent one of their lawyers to visit her and, from what Mr Sampson said, their anger constituted a threat.
It was as if Lionel himself had come back again to make her life difficult, a further harassment just as things were beginning to fall into place.
Mr Elliott MacDonald, a lawyer, had been one of her worst mistakes in those dreadful days after Lionel’s death.
Desperate for some comfort, she had turned to him and the close contact was like an elixir.
He was kind, thoughtful and clever and a kiss they had shared had led to much more with all of her heightened emotions after Lionel’s death.
When he departed a day later she’d never heard from him again, the shame and stupidity of their brief encounter all that she now remembered.
She had been so happy this morning, waking to a blue day with the promise of a visit down to Richmond to see the lovely gardens of the Harcourts. And now…
She could not tell the Earl anything of this history, for there were so many parts of her past that she did not want Phillip Moreland to know.
Perhaps she should simply sign the house over to Simon St Claire to be forever rid of him and his threats?
Perhaps she should leave London altogether and start again somewhere else?
Somewhere different? Somewhere far, far away?
She had money in a London bank account under her own name that would last for many years if she was careful, and yet she could not simply disappear.
She had spent ten years as the wife of Lionel St Claire and a good many of them had been miserable.
To just give up and run without some sort of fight was a coward’s way of doing it, and the feeling of excitement she had in Phillip Moreland’s company was so life affirming.
But with the delay of a month on the sale of Belton there was also no time to waste.
Standing, she walked to the table to pick up the bell and rang it, her butler appearing almost immediately.
‘Could you call a carriage around in an hour, please, as I need to go out?’
Phillip was reading in his study when his man came in with a visitor card.
‘Mrs Wilhelmina St Claire, sir.’
He stood at this unexpected news and pulled a jacket on, tidying his hair with his hand after he had done so.
‘Show her in, please.’
This afternoon Wilhelmina was dressed in a riding jacket and split skirt, her hair pulled up under a hat and tied at the back of her neck in a loose net.
‘My lord.’ Her greeting was formal. ‘I should have sent a letter but I decided this was easier. Last night at the ball Mr Harcourt extended an invitation to view the gardens at his estate in Richmond. He intimated the flowers were at their best and most fragrant and I have decided I would very much like to see such a sight.’
‘When were you thinking of making this trip?’ He could not quite keep the surprise from his voice.
‘I thought this week might be a good time. I know I should not be here asking if I could come along but the invitation was to both of us and you did look as if you accepted the offer.’
‘I did, for was there not some urgency in it with the flowers at their peak for only a small amount of time?’
Her smile heartened him. ‘Exactly. He said the beds of iris will be wilting in only a matter of a week.’
‘So what day and time would you like to travel to Richmond? I could take my carriage out there.’
‘You would do that?’ She could not believe his words, especially after the horrible start to her day. But then, Phillip Moreland had that habit of making everything easy, fun and safe.
The Harcourt house, Summerley Court, was exactly as Phillip remembered it, a slightly run-down Tudor mansion outside of Richmond, its gardens of wild flowers interspersed with more formal flowerbeds in front of the long and elegant double-storey building.
Wilhelmina and he had spoken of the weather and the countryside on the way across and of other lesser things, but the conversation had been more stilted than usual, which was probably due to the fact of being alone in a small space together for a few hours.
Certainly the teasing he was more used to in her company was missing and he wished it back.
Benjamin and Sarah Harcourt came to meet them the moment their carriage drew into the driveway, giving the impression that they had been waiting for their guests to come.
Phillip watched as Wilhelmina made sure her hat was on firmly after checking to see the tendrils of her hair were not coming loose. When the door opened and they stepped out, Sarah Harcourt enveloped Wilhelmina.
‘Welcome to Summerley. It is such a pleasure to have you both here. When my husband informed me yesterday that you were coming to visit us I could hardly believe it.’
Wilhelmina hugged her back as she laughed at such an effusive greeting. Ben pumped Phillip’s hand up and down, his grip strong.
‘I think Sarah has looked forward to your arrival more than any guests we have ever had.’
‘I used to love coming to your discussions in London, Mrs St Claire. They filled me with ideas and hopes and you were always so very kind.’
‘Please call me Willa,’ she said, and accepted a bunch of colourful fragrant lilacs and roses handed to her wrapped in a sacking cloth.
‘Oh, they are lovely. I hope they will keep so that I might take them home for my front parlour.’
‘We will put them in water until you are ready to depart. But now you must come in and meet our children.’
An hour later they were all sitting outside in the familiar long cane loungers, much more tatty than Phillip remembered from his youth but very comfortable.
A maid had brought out cool drinks and a plate of assorted small cakes and sandwiches.
The talk now was of their childhood adventures and all the various scrapes they seemed to have got into.
Ben had a much better recall of the time than he did.
‘You always seemed to arrive looking thin and with some injury but by the end of the summer you had filled out and were full of health.’
‘Well, that’s because your mother fed us more food than I had ever seen in my life and it was always delicious.’
‘She used to make us matching outfits, too, because you never brought enough clothes, and we’d roam the land as the matching Merry Men of Robin Hood or the knights of old. There were so many characters I can hardly remember them all.’
‘I think I still have many of those old outfits in a trunk at Elmsworth.’
Phillip wondered privately if the senior Mrs Harcourt had ever gleaned the sort of mother his own was and had tried to make it up for him.
He imagined she had, on reflection, for he was always sent back with much more than he had ever brought with him and she had made sure he had a standing invitation for the next holiday period.
‘How long were you at school together?’ Wilhelmina asked this softly.
Benjamin began to speak again. ‘From ten until we left Eton at eighteen. After that we lost touch somehow, but you had married Gretel Carmichael and you were busy with your wife and the estate and all that entailed. I did try to come across to Elmsworth Manor to see you but it was difficult to find a time that worked, and then at twenty-two I travelled with my family to the Continent before coming back and meeting Sarah.’
‘Can you believe we first saw each other at Lackingtons both reaching for a book of the maps of England?’ There was humour in Sarah’s words. ‘Like the gentleman he was, he allowed me the copy and we sat and talked for hours. How is it that you two met?’
‘Mrs St Claire and her party dropped into Elmsworth on their way to London.’ Phillip Moreland gave a vague answer but Wilhelmina expanded on it.
‘I was most ill from a meal I had consumed on the way and one of my travelling companions insisted we stop in at Elmsworth Manor to get help.’