Chapter 18 #2
“They should have been your lawyers and Orla’s, and they enabled her to steal your inheritance. I am most curious to know how she pulled that off and how she’s situated generally.”
“And you are doing this without announcing your intentions to Orla. That money has long since been spent, Richard, so why pursue the matter?” Good of him to think of it, but hardly an urgent errand or one deserving of secrecy.
“Because you should know the truth, and because I am now the head of what passes for Orla’s family-by-association.
I need to know what transpired. In this case, that knowledge should be easily discoverable.
Orla might even qualify as a poor relation—she has certainly relied on the Glen’s charity for years—and I am entitled to know the extent of her true needs. ”
Mabel’s bright mood dimmed to seriousness, though not to sadness. “You don’t have to do this, Richard. For all I know, Orla did need the funds to house me. The solicitors might not tell you anything of the details you seek.”
“That was your money, Amabel. They might not tell me, but they will most assuredly tell us.”
The conviction in his voice warmed Mabel’s heart in a peculiarly bracing manner. She let Richard finish removing her bonnet, then took his hand and contemplated linen closets and lies, and a day that would include at least one private picnic.
“As I live and breathe, Miss Amabel Fielding, quite grown up. You resemble your father about the eyes, miss, and that is a compliment.”
Hereward Ingersoll might have been grandpapa to the Viking for which he’d been named. He was tall, solid, and wore a thick mane of white hair queued back in the old style. He regarded Mabel with snapping blue eyes that conveyed both warmth and intelligence.
“Please do have a seat, miss, my lord.” He gestured to a grouping of wing chairs by the fire, though the hearth was unlit and the windows of his spacious office open to the morning air. “I received last night’s note with a blend of rejoicing and foreboding. Whatever can I do for you?”
Richard watched this performance and decided it might not be a performance. Joseph Fielding’s aging solicitor appeared to hold Mabel, or the memory of her and her father in earlier years, in genuine affection.
“Shall I have a tea tray sent in?” he asked as Richard assisted Mabel into one of the wing chairs. “The clerks always pilfer a few cakes before the tray arrives. We order our sweets from the bakery up the lane, and I don’t begrudge the lads an occasional treat.”
“You always had cakes for Papa and me,” Amabel said slowly. “I’d forgotten that.”
“Your father preferred raspberry, if I recall aright.”
Amabel sent Richard a bemused glance. “I had forgotten that too. Please do sit, gentlemen. The occasion is not formal.”
She would make an excellent viscountess, provided Richard could persuade her to take him on as a husband.
“Not formal, perhaps,” Ingersoll said, “but serious, I fear. So much of a solicitor’s trade is serious. His lordship’s note alluded to possible irregularities in the Fielding family legal affairs.”
Ingersoll wasn’t wasting time or prevaricating, an encouraging sign.
“Before we take up the day’s business,” Amabel said, “how are Mrs. Ingersoll and your daughters?”
The old fellow beamed at a collection of sketches arranged on the wall opposite his desk. “Mrs. Ingersoll is a proud grandmama six times over. The lot of us are thriving and could not be happier.”
“I am delighted to hear that,” Amabel said, taking off her gloves and tucking them into her reticule.
“I have not been thriving. I have instead been engaged in undeclared war with the firm of Wopley and Sons, as they’ve attempted to pillage the last groat from the Shepherd’s Glen coffers.
His lordship’s arrival has put a stop to the larceny, but has also brought to light a claim that my inheritance was spent years ago. ”
Ingersoll nodded. “Disbursed, miss. I cannot speak to the present state of the funds, because they were disbursed shortly before your twenty-first birthday.” He rose and collected a sheaf of papers from the blotter of his massive desk.
“Against the advice of counsel, I might add. I’m surprised you don’t recall our exchange. ”
He returned to his wing chair and handed Amabel the documents. “The last letter from me transmits to you a bank draft—made out to bearer, per your instructions—in the sum of 1,328 pounds. That is a copy, of course. Your final letter to me is the next document and so on.”
Amabel scanned a yellowing page with a few paragraphs of tidy script in the middle. She passed it over to Richard and took up the next page.
“Is there a problem?” Ingersoll asked delicately.
Richard saw all manner of problems, but Amabel had the floor.
“At the time this letter was supposedly written by me, Mr. Ingersoll, I was kicking my heels in London. Damn her. She lied.”
“Beg pardon, miss. Who lied?”
Amabel handed Richard the second sheet. “Orla Fielding, my devoted step-mother.”
Ingersoll wrinkled his substantial nose. “A managing sort of female, if I might be blunt. She demanded the whole of her widow’s portion within a week of Mr. Fielding’s demise, and I have not heard from her since. You suspect she appropriated your funds?”
“She recently told me that spending my inheritance was necessary to keep a roof over my head after Papa died. She assured me that you had approved her use of my funds. Papa had been gone for some time when this,”—she motioned at the letter in Richard’s hands—“transaction took place. She waited until I was away from the Glen and seized her moment.”
Amabel handed Richard the rest of the papers.
“Have you proof, miss?” Ingersoll asked. “Did Mrs. Fielding claim an unexpected bequest at the time? Will her bank balance show an increase of 1,328 pounds following our disbursement?”
“Even that wouldn’t be proof,” Richard said, leafing through years of correspondence. “Orla would manufacture some Banbury tale turning it into a coincidence. I notice you began corresponding directly with Miss Fielding when she turned eighteen. Is that your usual practice with a minor client?”
“Indeed, my lord. After Joseph’s death, Miss Fielding had no guardian of record.
Joseph Fielding did not anticipate that he might expire before his daughter came of age.
We mentioned this to him repeatedly—he had left her a tidy sum, he was not entirely negligent—but he never named a guardian for her.
Mrs. Orla Fielding stepped into the role, though she never had legal authority to do so. ”
“Contrary,” Amabel growled, “to her many representations to me.”
Ingersoll regarded the documents in Richard’s hands.
“That is unfortunate. Most unfortunate. I did wonder, but one doesn’t want to intrude on a former client’s business when one has been dismissed.
Then too, when it comes to necessities—and what could be more necessary to a young lady than her inheritance—even minors can make legally valid decisions. ”
Richard took a closer look at the final letter purporting to be from Amabel. The last line thanked Ingersoll for his conscientious service and indicated those services were at an end.
Respectfully, Mabel Fielding.
“Is this your handwriting?” Richard asked, handing Mabel the last letter.
“Of course not. A good facsimile—my hand is legibly nondescript—but I don’t cross my t’s on a down slant, my initial capitals are more circumspect, and…”
“And?” Richard prompted.
“I sign my letters Amabel, never Mabel. Mabel is not my name, and particularly when writing to Mr. Ingersoll, only my legal name would do. I still sign all correspondence Amabel.”
“An old name, dating back to medieval days,” Ingersoll said. “The general meaning is ‘lovable,’ and your papa chose it for you.”
Amabel blinked several times even as she stared hard at Ingersoll’s empty hearth. “I did not know that. I knew it was an odd name.”
Richard passed her his handkerchief. “Ingersoll, would the handwriting and changed signature stand up in a court of law?”
“Before a jury? Possibly, particularly a local jury. Even here in York, Mrs. Fielding is not well liked. She’s part of a group of women who came of age together and went to finishing school together.
They are thought to have their collective noses in the air.
Squires’ daughters pretending to be something more.
Memories for that sort of behavior are long, particularly when Mrs. Fielding ended up as nothing more than a squire’s wife. ”
“A coven rather than a coterie?” Richard asked, while Amabel dabbed at her eyes.
“Precisely, my lord. I’m sure you came across their like in the south.
Nasty schoolgirls who become busybodies, then meddlers, then universally resented righteous pillars, and finally malingering, gossiping poseurs.
Mrs. Fielding’s preferred familiars number half a dozen or so, and at least three of them now bide in London much of the year.
Joseph regretted his matrimonial choice, but he was too much of a gentleman to say so. ”
“Can you get me a list of names?” Richard asked. “These ladies bear further scrutiny.”
“I can, my lord,” Ingersoll replied. “My wife is a contemporary of Mrs. Fielding and is among those who has cause to give the woman and the other Gundridge Gossips a wide berth. Mrs. Ingersoll keeps abreast of social matters, even those that do not concern her, because those developments are surprisingly relevant to my practice.”
“Amabel?” Richard passed the papers back to Ingersoll. “Are we finished here?”
She tucked Richard’s handkerchief into the cuff of her sleeve and sat up straight. “I would like a copy of Papa’s will.”
“Excellent thought,” Richard said, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of it. “You are curious about the family home?”