Chapter Eleven #5
‘With all the honours that go with it,’ said Allardice, watching his face with amusement. ‘Including the coat of arms. You can display it over your mantelpiece, have it embossed on your tobacco pouch – even paint it on your carriage door.’
‘I can’t afford a carriage,’ Angus said, bemused.
‘Aye, well, that’s another wee item of news I’ve to discuss with you.
Your father could leave his fortune and his business where he wished, and he did.
But there is a secondary legacy. Your grandmother on your father’s side, Elizabeth Mechie, came from a wealthy family and had a fortune of her own. ’
‘I don’t remember her,’ Angus said.
‘She died when you were only two. Through some careful legal work on the part of your great-grandfather Mechie, it was hers to dispose of as she chose, and she chose to leave it to you. She felt you ought to have your own money secured to you, regardless of your father’s business, which might prosper or fail, and regardless of how many other children he had to provide for. ’
‘But – I never heard a word about this.’
Allardice almost chuckled. ‘No, that was one of her stipulations. You weren’t to be told about it.
She didn’t want you idling your life away, knowing that you were to come into money of your own.
She’d seen her own brother go that way, ending in his untimely death.
She was a strong-minded woman, though not always a clear-thinking one.
She disposed that your fortune was to be in the trusteeship of your father, who could pay you an allowance out of it, of an amount and frequency he thought suitable. ’
‘He paid me an allowance, but I thought it was his own money,’ Angus said wonderingly.
‘He couldn’t have told you if he wanted to. It was in the deed. And your fortune was to come to you in full on his death, your marriage, or when you reached the age of thirty, whichever came first.’
Angus stared. ‘But – but—!’
‘Aye, I know,’ Allardice said, still kindly.
‘If I had married Rachel – Lady Rachel – I’d have got the money? Only I couldn’t marry her because I had no money!’
‘I’m not defending your father, now, nor blaming him, you understand.
That’s beyond what I’m paid for. Had you married out of hand, the money would have come to you by law, but he was under no obligation to tell you that – quite the contrary, in fact.
The most he could have done was to encourage you to wed. Or not to. An amusing dilemma.’
‘Not to me,’ Angus said bitterly.
‘Well, it’s done now,’ said Allardice. ‘Your grandmother Mechie’s money comes to you, and a grand sum it is. The income from the fund exceeded your allowance by a fair amount, so it’s been accumulating nicely. You’re a rich man, Sir Angus.’
‘How rich?’ Angus asked bluntly.
Allardice told him. Angus felt behind him for a chair and sat down. It was nothing like the amount of Mr Cowling’s fortune, for instance, but it was a very handsome sum, enough to keep a wife in style, in a large house, with servants, a carriage and all the new dresses she could desire.
A thought came to him. ‘What would have happened to the money if I’d died unwed before I was thirty?’ he asked.
Allardice’s smile disappeared. ‘It went to your father.’
Angus didn’t say anything. His father had arranged a marriage for him with the daughter of a business colleague, a man with whom he wanted to make a merger, probably expecting that Angus would plough his marriage-money back into the business – as he probably would have.
But if Angus had married Rachel, probably that money would have been lost to his father’s enterprises.
So he had forbidden the match and cut him off.
Did he hope that Angus, bereft of support, would become destitute or desperate or both, and hurry himself into an early grave?
It was a horrible suspicion to harbour. He was ashamed of himself. And yet…
Allardice had been watching his face. ‘I beg you not to think unhandsome thoughts, Sir Angus,’ he said. ‘They fester like poison in the mind.’
Angus roused himself. ‘You’re right. I won’t. What’s done can’t be undone. Does anyone else know about this legacy?’
‘I’m sure not. Your father was enjoined to keep it secret. It is entirely up to you whether you tell your family. I shall not.’
‘I don’t think I want to. Not yet, anyway. I need to get used to the idea.’
‘I shall tell them we were discussing the baronetcy, which is true. I should like you to come into my office in the next few days, if you’d be so kind, to look at accounts and sign documents, and at that time I can tell you more about the rights and duties that come with the title.
And now we had better join the rest of the family.
’ Angus stood obediently, and Allardice laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder.
‘I always took an interest in you, from the time you were a boy and used to play with my sons. The law has been twisted around you somewhat, like bindweed, but it’s all coming free now.
Don’t fret – and don’t be bitter. Look on this as a new start, a chance to get clear and be the man you want to be. ’
‘I shall, sir,’ Angus said. He didn’t feel it yet, but he knew it was the right thing.