Chapter 2 #3
“It is not concealed.”
“It is not visible on Croft’s schedule.”
“Sir Reginald received the full ledger.”
“Then he concealed it.”
Margaret’s gaze dropped to his written line. Something in her posture eased, though only enough to prove it had been held.
A knock sounded at the door.
Before Margaret could rise, Samuel Dyer entered carrying a leather document case beneath one arm. He was a narrow, meticulously dressed man whose iron-gray coat had survived the rain without apparent injury. His expression suggested the weather had submitted notice in advance.
“Your Grace,” he said. “Mrs. Ellison. I regret that Sir Reginald’s clerk reached the House before I did.”
“You knew of the notice?” Henry asked.
“I knew Sir Reginald had requested a current copy of the founding deed and had made inquiries concerning his power to terminate occupation. He did not provide me with the instrument he intended to serve.”
Margaret rose. “He cited the deed.”
“So I expected.” Dyer placed the case upon the smaller table. “The difficulty is not that his citation is invented.”
Henry closed the subscription ledger. “Open the case.”
Dyer did so without haste. He removed a thick folded document tied with faded green tape, a later memorandum, and three sheets covered in his own compact notes. The deed’s parchment bore creases softened by age and handling.
“Is that the original?” Margaret asked.
“A certified office copy. The original remains deposited with the firm that prepared the trust.”
“Why did Croft’s clerk cite a resident duchess?” Henry asked. “The phrase is sufficiently eccentric that I should remember hearing of it.”
“Because the late duchess intended it to be eccentric.”
Dyer untied the green tape and spread the deed upon the long desk. Margaret moved the lamp nearer. Henry remained seated, though every instinct trained by hostile meetings urged him to stand over the document and the men discussing his authority.
Dyer placed one finger beneath a dense paragraph.
“The property is held for the charitable purposes described, under the management of the acting trustee. The Duke of Rothbury retains a power of nomination under specific conditions. During the ordinary review period, additional trustees may be appointed only according to the schedule annexed.”
“When is the next ordinary appointment review?” Henry asked.“Eighteen months from now.”
“Too late.”
“Entirely.”
Margaret leaned over the opposite side of the desk without touching the parchment. “What may the duke nominate before then?”
“His wife, provided she resides at the property for the portion of each year specified and accepts the trust duties in writing. Upon valid nomination, she becomes co-trustee for the House’s resident administration.”
Henry looked at Dyer. “My aunt barred me from appointing an ordinary trustee but allowed me to install a duchess.”
“She had strong opinions concerning absent dukes.”
“She expressed them while accepting their money.”
“The late duchess was capable of distinguishing contradiction from inconvenience.”
Margaret’s expressive mouth threatened movement, though she suppressed it.
Henry read the clause himself. The language was legal, elaborate, and unmistakable. His aunt had believed that a duke might visit, subscribe, make speeches, and then depart. A resident wife, in her estimation, would be forced to know whether the kitchen had flour and the roof had ceased leaking.
The dead woman had outmaneuvered him without knowing he would inherit.
“She has governed from the grave with discouraging efficiency,” he said.
Dyer folded his hands. “She would consider that praise.”
“I do not.”
“No, Your Grace.”
Henry read the provision again. “I nominate another man.”
“You cannot.”
“I appoint him as my agent.”
“An agent may examine on your behalf and carry instructions within your lawful power. He does not acquire trustee authority, cannot countermand Croft’s trustee act, and cannot satisfy the co-trustee provision.”
“I petition for an early review.”
“You may request one. Croft may oppose it. The deed requires notice to interested parties, and the resulting delay would extend beyond the closure date unless a court or other competent authority intervened upon grounds we have not yet established.”
Margaret’s attention remained on the document. “Could the closure be stayed because the account is misleading?”
“Possibly challenged, if we prove Croft failed to consider material income or acted outside the charitable purpose. Not by Mrs. Ellison’s objection alone, and not swiftly merely because his arithmetic is tendentious.”
“Tendentious?” Henry said. “It is constructed to produce one answer.”
“That is a more energetic word and no less accurate.”
Henry turned to the annexed schedule. “There must be another appointment power.”
“There is not.”
“A temporary trustee?”
“No new temporary office. The annex creates two acting places, both presently vacant, but they may be filled only at a properly noticed trust review. The earliest valid date falls after Croft’s closure deadline, and neither place satisfies the resident co-trustee provision.”
“A protector of the trust?”
“No.”
“A resident committee with binding authority?”
“No.”
“Then my aunt wrote an instrument designed to prevent absentee control and entrusted its daily operation to one man unless I married.”
Dyer adjusted the edge of the parchment. “She wrote an instrument intended to compel domestic accountability.”
“She might have left a note.”
“She left fourteen pages.”
Margaret’s gaze lifted from the deed to Henry. “Did the late duchess expect you to inherit?”
“No.”
The answer carried more force than he intended.
His cousin had been the heir. Then fever had taken one man, a riding accident another, and duty had descended through the family with the vulgar persistence of rain through bad slate.
Henry had returned from war prepared to inhabit a quieter branch of the family and discovered that rank, estates, debts, and the public history of people who had never trusted him now belonged to his name.
He had not expected the dukedom. Someone else, apparently, had expected a chance to dispute it.
Dyer’s clerk did not knock. He entered with water on his shoulders and a sealed packet in his hand, breath carefully controlled from haste.
“Mr. Dyer, sir. This was delivered to the office after you left. The messenger said it concerned His Grace and the Waterloo trust.”
Dyer accepted the packet. The seal was not Croft’s.
Henry recognized the name impressed above it before Dyer turned the address toward him: Harcourt and Sloane, solicitors acting for Christopher Blackwood.
The room changed dimensions.
The locked cabinet remained behind Margaret.
The deed lay between them. Rain pressed against the windows, and workshop noise came faintly through the walls.
Yet Henry’s attention narrowed to the packet in Dyer’s hand and the knowledge that Christopher had chosen this hour because Croft’s notice had made Henry’s acts immediately valuable to challenge.
“Open it,” Henry said.
Dyer examined the seal. “It is addressed to me in my capacity as solicitor to the trust, with a copy to be shown to the Duke of Rothbury.”
“Then it has achieved both purposes.”
Dyer broke the seal and read.
His face altered less than most men’s would have done. That was why Henry trusted him.
Margaret looked between them. “Is it another notice?”
Dyer finished the first page before answering.
“It is a warning from solicitors acting for a collateral claimant. They allege that questions have arisen concerning His Grace’s succession and advise the trustees not to rely upon any new appointment, guarantee, or disposition made under ducal authority until the matter is examined. ”
“On what ground?” she asked.
Dyer glanced at Henry.
The look was brief, but Margaret saw it. She became very still.
Henry held out his hand. Dyer passed him the letter.