The House of Lyall (55 page)

His most astounding discovery in the first hour was that from 1919 to 1933, Andrew Rennie had been transferring money every six months from an account in his name with the Clydesdale Bank, but marked in his secret journal as belonging to ‘Marianne'. As if this were not mystery enough, the money had been divided equally – one half going to an account with the Royal Bank of Scotland and the other to an account with the North of Scotland Bank – for the maintenance of two children. The question was – whose children?

If Andrew had used his own money, the answer would have been that they were his, but the fact that it was Marianne Glendarril who had actually paid would suggest otherwise. And in 1919, she herself would have been around forty, past child-bearing age? Would they have been spawned by one of her sons? The elder, Ranald, had been killed about nine months before the payments began, so he could have been the father, but that was pure conjecture.

Graham sifted through all the papers again in the hope of finding something more definite, trying to decipher all the pencilled notes which cropped up in the strangest places in Andrew's rather cramped scribbles – along the tops of pages, across corners, up or down the margins.

Nearing the end of another hour, when Graham was on the verge of giving up, something caught his eye. His dejected spirits soared as he studied the statement of interest in his hand. It was from a firm of brokers concerning a block of shares Lady Glendarril held in a tea plantation in Assam, and halfway down, between two lines of figures, was a faint insertion – so faint that it was a wonder he had noticed it: ‘Ruth married Mark Laverton 21/7/41.'

Sitting back, Graham held the sheet of paper up to the window, turning it this way and that to make sure there was nothing else written on it. There wasn't, and this had no connection with the paper on which it was written. Andrew had obviously learned of the girl's marriage while he had been working with the statement, and had jotted it down to remind him. But this information gave Graham the incentive to carry on.

He set to with renewed vigour, and when, twenty minutes later, his secretary knocked on his door, he called, ‘I told you I do not wish to be disturbed today.'

Jane McDonald opened the door a little and said, ‘I'll get the lady to make an appointment then, shall I? When would be best?'

‘You had better make it next week. Do I know her?'

‘I don't think so. She said she spoke to Mr Rennie about ten days ago, and then she saw his death in the papers.'

Graham's head snapped up. ‘Andrew never mentioned taking on a new client. Did she give her name?'

‘Mrs Laverton.'

‘Laverton?' He bounded up off his chair and practically shoved Miss McDonald out of his way in his haste to make sure that it was the correct Mrs Laverton.

His noisy entry to the waiting room startled the woman, who said, nervously, ‘Mr Rennie was dealing … but when I saw his death in the papers, I wondered who …'

Feeling equally nervous, Graham cleared his throat. ‘He retired from the firm ten years ago, Mrs Laverton, and since then, his only client has been –'

‘My grandmother?'

He was pleased to have at least one of his suspicions confirmed.

‘Um … can you tell me … what was your mother's name?'

‘All I know is her first name is Melda.'

‘Melda?' he gasped. ‘But Esmeralda is the present Lady Glendarril and in that case, Ruairidh … Lord Glendarril … cannot be your father. They were married in – I think 1920, and you were born in 1919?'

She gave a smiling nod. ‘If he
is
my father, I can't understand why they didn't claim me when they became husband and wife. I was fostered out, apparently, though I always thought the Browns were my real parents. My mother only told me she wasn't my birth mother when she was on her deathbed.'

When Graham learned that Samuel had been adopted, but had later been taken to Edinburgh by his adoptive parents, he burst out, ‘Did Andrew Rennie tell you all this?'

She explained that the old solicitor had inadvertently let slip the Bruce-Lyall name and where they lived, and she told him about her visit to the castle itself. ‘My grandmother was the only one I saw, and she swore there was some mistake, and she had no idea who I was. She was so convincing I started doubting what Mr Rennie had told me, then I read about his death, and I thought, why shouldn't I go and see if someone in his office knew anything?'

Graham was shocked by the dowager's behaviour. ‘She did know who you were! She had authorized Rennie to deposit money in your foster parents' bank every month for your keep. Her son must have refused to marry your mother …' He stopped, looking more bemused than ever. ‘But he did marry her after the war … I wonder, now? Is it possible that he hadn't known about his twins? I wouldn't put it past the old vixen to have covered up all traces of her son's indiscretions … and threatened your mother with some dire calamity if she let the cat out of the bag.'

Ruth brightened. ‘It must have been something like that! I can't see any mother, however young and inexperienced, not telling the man she loved about their babies … and he must have loved her, too, or else he wouldn't have married her when he came home from the war.'

Graham hit his right fist into his left palm. ‘One payment stopped in 1933, that would have been when you started earning for yourself, but the other went on until 1938. Although Samuel was legally adopted, Marianne, or Andrew on his own initiative, must have paid for a better education for him, because he was a boy. Her name had been kept out of it, so that no one would ever know that she had any connection …' He stopped again, frowning. ‘Ruairidh would have been in either France or Belgium at the time of the births, and I wouldn't put it past his mother to have sent Melda away during the latter months of her pregnancy.'

‘That old besom has a lot to answer for,' Ruth said bitterly.

His heart went out to this woman who had clearly had a hard life right from the time of her birth, and who was dressed in well-worn clothes which told of ongoing financial struggles. She had not let herself go, however. Her chestnut hair, bobbed quite short, was gleaming with cleanliness, her face had been lightly powdered or whatever women did to take the shine off their skin, and her lips were not nearly as garish as some he had seen, just a little touch of lipstick. Her face was a perfect oval, but there was a sadness in her dark eyes.

Graham became aware that she was waiting for him to say something else, and said the first thing that came into his head. ‘Why did you want to get in touch with your mother, Mrs Laverton? Were you planning to ask her for –'

‘I want nothing from any of them!' she burst out. ‘I just want to know the truth about myself, Mr Dalgarno, to see what my parents look like and what kind of people they are, and why they allowed other people to bring me up. I'm not out for revenge for being abandoned, don't think that, but I
would
like to make them feel a wee bit guilty. Can you understand that?'

‘Indeed I can.' Graham seemed to make up his mind about something now. ‘I hope you are not in a hurry, because I have some good news for you, something that will prevent the dowager from thinking you are after
her
money.' Noticing her bemusement, he smiled benignly. ‘You are in for a wonderful surprise, Mrs Laverton, but perhaps you would prefer me to wait until your brother can be with you?'

‘You've made me curious, so you might as well tell me now.'

It did not take him long to tell her of the legacy from Andrew Rennie, but it took some time for her to take in the extent of the wealth she and her as yet unknown brother had inherited. And he could see that he would have to make her understand Andrew Rennie's motive; that would be the only way she would feel free to accept such a large windfall.

‘But why would he leave anything to Samuel and me?' she asked for the third time. ‘Maybe he'd been given the job of making sure we had decent food and clothes, but his obligation was over when we started working.'

‘Andrew was a very kind-hearted man,' Graham said patiently, ‘and I think he wanted to make up to you for … and I'm nearly sure he had loved Marianne Glendarril since he was a young man, which was why he did everything she asked of him, but what she did to you when you went to Castle Lyall must have made him see her as she really was – a wicked schemer. I can't pretend to fathom out what happened ten days ago. I do not like to think that she was responsible for his death, Mrs Laverton, yet I have the nastiest feeling that she was.'

‘Oh, surely not, Mr Dalgarno! It was an accident! But I'd like to know why Mr Rennie left his money to my brother and me. He had never met us when he drew up his will.'

‘He knew you would get nothing from your grandmother, and I expect he felt sorry for you, Mrs Laverton.'

‘Call me Ruth, please,' she begged. ‘I don't know who I am or what's happening to me, but whatever my last name was, is, or will be, I'll always be Ruth.'

‘And you must call me Graham; this Mr and Mrs business is far too formal. Well, Ruth, I advise you to go home now and I will do what I can to make Lady Glendarril agree to see you. I shall also go through Andrew's papers again with a fine-tooth comb, and pray that I find the answer to your brother's whereabouts.'

After she had left, Graham leaned back with a satisfied sigh. He hadn't solved all the mystery, but he knew now how fairy godmothers felt. It wasn't the first time he had sprung an inheritance on an unsuspecting beneficiary, but it
was usually a distant relative or someone who had worked for the deceased, and never on this scale. Andrew Rennie had been a bachelor all his life, had lived frugally and invested his savings wisely, and Graham had already learned, from some tentative enquiries he had made, that the sum involved would be well into six figures. Ruth and Samuel would receive an amount far in excess of anything their grandmother could have left them.

His next task was to plan the meeting. He admired Ruth Laverton. However poor she was, however much in need, she would never grovel for help to her new-found family. His opinion of Esmerelda Glendarril, on the other hand, had been badly dented. He had met her only occasionally over the years and did not know her well, but on the day of Andrew's funeral she had given the impression of being a gentle, caring person – very similar to Ruth, in fact.

It would be interesting to arrange for all parties concerned to meet, he mused, and to watch their reactions, but it would not be ethical. For one thing, Esmerelda may not have told her husband about the twins, and had she the guts to tell him after all this time? If she did, would Ruairidh believe her – would he even want to believe her? It would be upsetting for him, galling, to learn that the girl he loved had concealed the existence of their love children from him for so many years. He would doubt that they were his, and imagine that she'd had other lovers while he had been away fighting for his country, which would turn him against Ruth and Samuel.

Recognizing that a large confrontation was out of the question, Graham decided to stick to his original plan and talk to Lady Glendarril alone first. The outcome of that would decide what his next move should be.

Chapter Thirty-two

Melda couldn't think why Graham Dalgarno wanted to see her, or why he had insisted that she came to him. He could say all he wanted to say in front of her husband, surely?

Joe Gilchrist, the chauffeur/handyman who had often taken Marianne to see her solicitor, drew the Bentley to a smooth halt at the steps up to his office. ‘When do you want to be picked up, your Ladyship?' he asked. ‘When old Lady Glendarril used to come here, she always told me to come back for her in an hour, but if you want longer …?'

Despite her misgivings, Melda managed a smile. ‘No, an hour's long enough – maybe too long,' she grimaced wryly

‘Should I just wait outside, then?'

The tightness in her chest eased a little. She had a feeling that the coming meeting was to be somewhat uncomfortable and it was good to know she could make her escape at any time. ‘That might be best.'

Waiting until he came round to open the car door for her – he would be insulted if she didn't – she glanced around in admiration at the raised garden laid out between the two rows of tall granite buildings, because Bon Accord Square belied its name, and was, in fact, a long rectangle. The grass looked as well kept as the lawns at Castle Lyall, and whoever had been given the job of laying out the flowering shrubs had a good eye for colour. Reading her thoughts, Gilchrist grinned as he helped her on to the pavement. ‘Me and Lady Marianne always said this was one of the bonniest streets in the town. Will you manage now, or will I …?'

‘I'll manage, thanks.' Taking a deep breath, she went slowly up the outside steps without holding on to the handrail.

With her usual abhorrence of being late for any appointments, she took a quick look at her watch, and her heart sank. Not quite ten to twelve. Her mother-in-law would have said it was just as bad mannered to catch people on the hop by being early as it was to keep them waiting. When she reached the top step, however, she was glad that she wasn't late, because Graham Dalgarno himself opened the glass door for her. He must have been watching for her.

‘Good morning, Lady Glendarril,' he smiled, taking her hand in a tight grip and shaking it vigorously.

‘Good morning, Mr Dalgarno,' she replied, trying to discover from his expression whether he had good or bad news to impart.

Shepherding her up a carpeted flight of stairs, he ushered her into his private office and gestured to the high-backed armchair he had drawn in for her. ‘You'll be wondering why I asked you here?'

‘I've been a bit curious,' she admitted, his obvious unease making her more apprehensive than ever.