Chapter 2
One Month Later
Cordelia felt a pain behind her eyes, and it made her want to close them and lie back on the sofa in her family’s sitting room. But the solicitor, Mr. Wolsley was speaking to her, and while she dreaded what he was about to say, she knew it already.
“Miss Debrett, I am so very sorry to be here at such a time and on such an errand.” He looked at her over his half-glasses.
Clearing the thickness of tears from her throat, Cordelia gave him a stiff smile. “It is your job, Mr. Wolsley, and I do not envy you this task. Please, I am ready to begin.”
“Very well, then.” The man cleared his throat and fiddled with his glasses as he drew a large, stiff bit of paper from his bag, laying it down on the table in front of him.
He had been offered tea but had refused. “Families do not usually like me to stay after the reading of the will, you understand,” he’d said, and she was glad for it. She wanted this all over as soon as possible.
Cordelia folded her hands as Mr. Wolsley unfolded the will, her eyes moving to a small pillow in the armchair next to him. It had grown so faded in the sunlight streaming in every day through their sitting room window, and she’d hardly noticed.
Well, it cannot be replaced. There is no money for such frivolities.
“Miss Debrett, are you ready?” the solicitor asked, and Cordelia nodded, wondering if he’d asked more than once, and she’d been lost in thoughts of pillows, desperate to think of anything but her best friend gone and gone forever.
She knew what the words in the will would be, and the thought frightened and calmed her at the same time.
“You will have the children, Cordelia,” Helen had told her once. “You are the only person I trust to raise them properly, if anything happens to us.”
“Very well, then.” He read through the initial formalities, and then said, “The children, Timothy and Olivia, if still underage at the deaths of their parents, will be placed under their godmother’s care, a Miss Debrett of Valeton House, London.”
The solicitor lowered the will, staring at her from across the sitting room. “You do understand what this means, young lady?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes,” Cordelia replied, an errant tear slipping from one eye, which she surreptitiously wiped away. “I have been ready for it, and I shall do my best. I shall not disappoint my friend.” Her voice was shaky, and it made her angry.
Weakness was foolishness, and she had to be strong if she was to raise two children now.
The solicitor frowned. “While I understand that these are the wishes of Lord and Lady Riverton, you must know that raising children is a costly affair. And…” he continued, glancing down at the will for a moment, his brow furrowed, “they did not leave you any money for such a purpose.”
Cordelia swallowed nervously. Money. It seemed endlessly to be a problem, and she could never be rid of it.
No matter. I will do this if it kills me.
“Yes, I know, Mr. Wolsley, but I shall manage somehow. Besides, I never expected any money from them. I will take as good care of Olivia and Tim as if I was their own mother.”
She rose from her seat, ready for the meeting to be over. She felt ill, but all she could think of was getting the children. It had been painful enough to wait a month, but it had been perhaps for the best. The last month had been spent in tears.
Mr. Wolsley hurried to fold the will and stand, looking bewildered. “Are you certain of this, Miss Debrett? Other arrangements could be made, I am certain.”
Cordelia, annoyed at his lack of confidence in her, shook her head. “No, I shall take the children. Where are they? When can I retrieve them?”
He adjusted his glasses. “Well, they are currently under their grandfather’s care, at his London home.
” He looked away from her, almost sheepish, and Cordelia knew that His Grace, the Duke of Wexford, had no doubt made his opinions known about the will, and likely had attempted to bribe the solicitor or threaten him in some way in order to derive a different outcome.
“Yes, I know it. When may I get them?”
Grabbing his bag and returning the will into it, he said, “One week. By then, all the other matters of the will shall be settled, and you will be able to take them.”
“Very good. I will make preparations to retrieve them then.”
“Very good, Miss,” he replied with a nervous smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Wolsley.” She led him to the door and then returned to the sitting room, grasping the faded pillow from the chair and moving towards the large window that looked out onto the street.
Are you certain about this, Helen?
Cordelia had, over the years, attempted to imagine herself as a wife and a mother, but the picture had never really made sense in her mind.
While the other young ladies around her rushed towards domesticity with abandon, she had never pursued it.
There had always seemed to be so many other things to take care of.
In fact, she was twenty-four years old already and quite on the shelf in the ton’s mind.
Being on her own had always suited her very well, and she had pushed aside thoughts of a domestic sort of future.
Now, it was rushing towards her at full speed.
And her indebted mother and two younger sisters would likely not take the news very well.
A knock at the sitting room door jolted her out of her nervous reverie, and she dropped the pillow as she turned to see a footman enter.
“You have a guest, Miss. Might I show him in?” The footman looked ill at ease.
“Has he not given his name?”
“I do not need to give my name!” a familiar voice shouted, and then the Duke of Wexford suddenly appeared in the room, dressed in black, his silver-tipped cane in his one hand, and hat in his other, which he dropped into the fearful footman’s hands.
“Your Grace,” Cordelia said, her stomach tightening. “Do come in.” She motioned to the chair, but instead, he paced furiously in front of the fireplace, waving his cane in the air as he spoke.
Nervously, the footman slowly shut the door, and Cordelia was left alone with a man she loathed, whom Helen had also loathed and had confided in her that he made her life and David’s life a misery at any opportunity.
“How could a spinster inherit my own son’s wealth! It is madness!” the duke continued to pace. “Insanity! I shall not have it.” He turned to her and pointed at her with his cane. “I know you have somehow contrived to force Helen to do this, whom you adored and followed around like a puppy.”
“I beg your pardon!” she began, but he continued, yelling and pacing, until her voice rose over his own.
“Your Grace, I do not know at all what you mean!” she cried. “I have inherited no money.”
It was only then that he stopped pacing, and slowly, he turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing.
“You lie,” he said. “The solicitor told me the wealth was inherited elsewhere, but he did not explain where. He was not permitted. Then who inherited it if not you?!” his voice rose again along with his cane.
Cordelia glared at him. “I could not tell you. I too am confused, for I was certain that you would have inherited your son’s wealth, Your Grace. But it is not I. There was no need for you to come here to…wave your stick about and shout in my own drawing room.”
Cordelia regretted the words, at least in part as soon as she’d uttered them, after she saw the thunderous look on the duke’s face. He took a step towards her, but she crossed her arms, desperate to show no fear.
“I will find out then. The children and the money belong with me. Their grandfather. It is only I who should be entrusted to take on my son’s legacy.”
He spoke the words without emotion, and Cordelia knew he cared not a whit for his twin grandchildren.
“I’m afraid to inform you that while I did not inherit the money, I did inherit the children. They are to live with me. It was your son’s and my dear friend’s wish.”
His eyes widened in shock, and then he let out a sickening laugh. “You?! Ha! How are you to raise two children with no money of your own?” She tried her best to stand taller. “Or perhaps you will use them as extra pairs of hands around the house, no matter their rank. Just like a pair of servants.”
He stormed to the door before she could reply in fury, and before he left, he turned back to her and said, “I will dispute this will. It is nonsense and no doubt that whore-wife of my son’s was the cause of all of it!”
He slammed the door, and Cordelia sat down, spent, stung by the duke’s cruel words.
Helen was the kindest, most beautiful, most compassionate woman that Cordelia had ever known.
They had met at eighteen, in their first season, and had been inseparable since.
She pressed a hand to her heart, where it seemed to hurt the most.
Helen, how did you bear that man?
As the weight of loss and her new future with no funds to support it weighed upon her, Cordelia breathed out a long sigh, wishing the tension in her shoulders would loosen.
But she jolted upward when she heard the creak of the door and hurriedly wiped her face, afraid the duke had returned to continue his cruel torture.
“My dear,” her mother Fiona said softly, shutting the door after her and walking slowly towards the sofa, her day dress making soft sounds as she glided across the floor.
Her blue eyes were kind as she looked at her daughter.
“I’m afraid I have not seen you cry for such a long time, that you frighten me so.
While I know you are always thinking of Helen, this seems different. Are you all right?”
Cordelia tensed. Her mother, who had borne so much already, could not see her in such a state. Over the past month, all her crying had been done in her room, afraid that she should show her family the true depth of her grief.
“Yes, Mama, I will be all right. Please sit. There is much to discuss.”
They sat, and Cordelia took a breath, attempting to gain control of her whirring thoughts and the continued ache in her heart.
“I am sorry for the scene caused by the Duke of Wexford.”
“Well, he was always one for scenes,” her mother said with a smirk, bringing a little lightness to Cordelia’s heart. “I wonder why he should be visiting you?”
“Yes, well, he is angry for a good reason, I suppose, although I think the children would not be happy with him.”
“Cordelia, my dear, I’m afraid you must start from the beginning. I am quite confused.” Her mother’s light brows furrowed. Cordelia was about to begin again when there was a knock at the door, and her two sisters, Emma and Danae, burst in, with Emma blushing slightly at Danae’s usual brashness.
“Forgive us, but we heard the commotion and wished to see if all was well—,” Emma began. “Dear Cord! What has happened?”
The sisters hurried to sit across from her and her mother, and Cordelia looked at each of them in turn.
Emma was the second eldest, with dark hair like her own and blue eyes like their mother.
She was all things quiet and sensible, while Danae, with blonde hair and the same blue eyes was all that was passionate and wild. She smiled.
The children will adore them.
“It is best you all hear what is about to happen, although please, do not interrupt me until I finish. I want to get everything out at once.”
She shared her story, the decision by Helen and David to give her the children but the mysterious destination of the inherited money. She explained all as well as the duke’s ire and his promise to find a way to dispute the will. When she was done, her mother and sisters were wide-eyed.
“I know it is a lot to take on, what with our own debts and problems, but I must do this for Helen. She had asked it of me, and clearly, she thought I was best for this duty and not their own grandfather.”
Cordelia’s heart raced nervously. She wouldn’t know what to do if her family turned her out with the children in tow. After a few seconds of silence, her mother grasped her hand.
“But of course you must do this. It is a sacred duty you have been given by your friend. We will find a way out of this and a way forward. All that matters is that the children join us and that they have a happy home.” Her mother was smiling, but Cordelia could see the worry behind her eyes.
“There is still more to sell,” Fiona added, looking about the sitting room as if cataloguing its worth.
“We can sell the last bits we were saving. That should be enough for a time.”
“And we too, could use our dowries from father to pay for the children,” Emma suggested.
“You are all too kind,” Cordelia answered, looking between each of them, and she rose to her feet.
A plan was forming in her mind, a plan she had shied away from for too long, and after her family’s last act of kindness, she realized that she could not put this upon them.
“I could not ask for such a complete sacrifice from you. You must have your own futures to think of.” She walked towards the window and stared out into the street again.
It seemed a sort of mad plan at her age, when she had no real idea how to go about it, and when she needed it to happen quickly, but it was a good one. Turning back to her family, she tried to smile.
“I think Emma will congratulate me on my good sense in this matter. I am the eldest, and I have brought this responsibility upon us, so now it is my responsibility to take care of it. And there is only one week in which to do it, for the children will become my responsibility in seven days’ time.
“But what will you do?” Danae asked, looking confused.
“It is high time that I find a husband.”