Chapter 8
Eight
Nicoll couldn’t sleep. Once again, insomnia had struck and had done so far more often after her father had passed.
In Dominica and Jersey, she was not at all concerned with walking along the beach or cliffs to clear her mind until she grew tired.
She could not do so in London. Too many dangers lurked around dark corners.
Further, a man stood across the street and watched.
Once her cousin had confessed that she had been followed, she had made a point of looking and spotted him easily enough beneath a tree directly across from their home.
Perhaps a stroll in the small garden behind her house would suffice. Except maybe someone was watching from the alley as well.
How could she possibly relax if she knew that she was being watched?
Nicoll snuffed out the candle, blanketing her sleeping chamber in darkness then moved to the window and glanced out and below.
There was little light due to the clouds that drifted across the moon, but she was certain that once her eyes adjusted to the darkness that she might be able to locate someone hiding and watching if he were there.
It took but a moment before she spied a shadow slipping through a back gate.
He stayed in the shadows but then moved away more in the open and along the path.
He glanced in each direction, as if he watched for someone and feared that he might be seen.
Only when he neared the house and looked up did Nicoll realize who it was and gasped.
Grasping her dressing gown, Nicoll pulled it on and hurried out of her chamber then down the stairs to the back parlor, which she used as an office as her father had done.
Cecil was just on the other side of the window, trying to force it open when she hurried forward and unlocked it to assist him.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“Why did you give me the cut direct and lie?” he countered.
“I assumed you would reach your own conclusion.”
“So that Retford doesn’t know what you are about.”
“Yes,” she answered. “So, why are you here now?”
“Because I can no longer call on you tomorrow.” He braced his hands on the window ledge and pulled himself up.
Nicoll moved away as he swung one leg over and then the other before he was standing inside the parlor.
She turned to light a lamp.
“Wait.”
“Why?” she asked.
He strode across the room, shut the door leading to the corridor, then closed the curtains of the window that looked out the side of the house, bringing near complete darkness.
“Now?”
“Close the curtain behind you.”
She did as she was told, which made it impossible for anyone to see into the parlor from any direction. Only then did she finally light the lamp.
“Do you have the documents for me to review?”
Her heart sank because she had hoped that he had also wanted to see her.
It was a foolish hope. She had hired him, and it was likely he saw her as little more than a client.
“They are on the desk.”
Cecil did his best to concentrate on the words he read but he was all too aware that Nicoll wore only a dressing gown over a nightrail. She had been prepared for bed, which had his mind wandering to what he would rather be doing at this late hour.
But he reminded himself that she was an innocent miss.
“Would you like tea or brandy?”
He almost answered brandy, but that would only encourage his wayward thoughts. “Tea.” He then looked up. “Is there a servant still awake?”
“They are asleep. Further, I am quite capable of brewing tea.” Nicoll chuckled as she left him alone.
There were several documents that provided the information he sought but none were truly helpful, except for the correspondence between Mr. Driscoll and the Treasury Department.
One letter was authored by the Colonial Office and confirmed the grant and tenant arrangement.
However, they questioned whether the terms had been met due to Mr. Driscoll’s absence.
His argument, if it became necessary, was that the same government who had sent Driscoll away should not be able to punish him for those actions.
Further, there were several letters between Mr. Driscoll and the Colonial Office from the time he was in Jersey and following his move to London in an attempt to resolve the disputes.
Therefore, it was obvious Mr. Driscoll was not ignoring the concerns.
Further, there were letters from Mr. Rhys McNaught, Driscoll’s son-in-law, stating that he had traveled to Dominica and inspected the estate himself and any claims of neglect were false.
However, it still didn’t solve the ownership dispute simply because, as Nicoll stated, she was a female, and thus, the government would not allow her to keep the home and land. Further, the income from the property belonged to the estate, not to Nicoll.
“I must accept that I have no hold on the Dominica estate,” she said from the doorway, tray with a tea service in hand.
“You have already reached that conclusion?” he questioned.
“Yes. Your sigh as I entered was confirmation. I had hoped I was wrong.” She set the tray on the table between the settee and two chairs.
Cecil rose from the desk and joined her in the sitting area, taking with him the documents he had not yet perused.
She sat forward and prepared a cup of tea to his preference then her own before she sat back with her own sigh.
Her grey eyes were dull, sad, nearly lifeless.
Nicoll had allowed herself to be beaten and he did not like it one bit.
“I have no options, do I?”
He wished to tell her that there was an argument to be had, but there was not. “Is there a relative who lives in England who might step forward and offer to accept guardianship.”
“No.” She took a sip of her tea. “Is it true that Retford can deny me any of my father’s wealth because it came to him through his second wife and because I was not her daughter?”
“He can make the argument, but she died long ago and your father never made the distinction between the daughters she bore him and you and your older sister. Therefore, what remains should be divided into six parts, assuming your eldest sister would claim her part of the inheritance.”
Nicoll frowned then bit her bottom lip. “I do not believe Tempest would care. She has been married these past seven years, her husband is wealthy, though I would never ask that you deny her a portion.”
“Then I will prepare the argument for the five unwed daughters. Further, I will petition that the portion due you and Margaret be released immediately as you have reached the age of majority and by law, those funds should be yours.”
For the first time since Cecil had met Nicoll, she appeared defeated, and he did not like it. Unfortunately, there was little he could do under English Common Law, and they both knew the reality of the situation.
“How long before there is a decision?”
This time he chuckled and shook his head. “The Court of Chancery is notorious for the time it takes to make decisions on matters. In many cases, it could be years.”
“Truly?”
Hope lit in her eyes once again.
“Yes, though given there are three minor daughters who are heirs to a rather wealthy estate, Retford could make a nuisance of himself to see it decided as soon as possible.”