The Inheritance (6 page)

"Thank you,
Meg. It all looks very nice indeed."

She placed the
items on the table and stared at her husband. He and Lord Michael
had been deep in conversation when she had approached and her
curiosity was positively bursting.

"And what
secrets are you two men discussing?" she joked, hoping her
cheeriness would allow her to ask such a question.

"You shall
find out quite soon," Lord Michael replied, looking her steadily in
the eye.

She felt an
unfamiliar chill shudder down her spine, and dropping the smile of
pretence hurried away.

At eight p.m.
precisely, Lord Michael was above the shop where Thomas and Meg had
a small apartment in which they lived. It had taken him only five
minutes to cower the woman to the degree that she offered her
wrists for tying, and had crawled across her husband's wide lap,
begging forgiveness for her lack of respect as she did so.

Following Lord
Michael's direction, Tom pulled her voluminous dress up and out of
the way, and reached to do the same with her drawers.

"Oh, Tom," she
wailed. "Please don't expose myself to his Lordship. I can't bear
it."

Tom
chuckled.

"You can't
bear it but I can," he replied, threatening again.

What Meg
didn't know was that Lord Michael and Tom had already discussed the
baring of her bottom in Lord Michael's presence. Lord Michael knew
it would horrify the woman, so he suggested to Tom that it be kept
as an ongoing threat.

"I'll not do
this time then," he said sternly, "but if you dare cross me again
woman, I'll invite his Lordship over here and let him spank you for
me, naked as a jaybird."

"Ooooh
Thomas," she cried.

"And you'll
call me Sir when I'm spankin' you."

"Yes, Sir,"
she howled.

"You'll find
yourself over my knee once a month. Keep you in line. If you don't
behave I'll make it once a week until you do. And if you're really
bad, I'll ask his Lordship to attend your naked bum."

"I'll behave,
Sir. I'll behave," she promised loudly.

Lord Michael
signalled to Tom. It was time for the spanking to commence. There
was a limit to scolding. It had to be enough to make the point and
no more.

Tom's large
hand rose in the air and slapped down, landing on her plump
jiggling cheek. Lord Michael saw a familiar gleam appear in Tom's
eyes, who clearly had no reservations about the punishment he was
administering. He slapped again, switching cheeks, and Meg
squealed, shocked at the sting her husband's hand possessed. Tom
glanced up at his mentor.

"A little
faster and harder I think, Tom," he suggested, to which Meg let out
a new howl of protest. "And more of that noise Meg and I shall
furnish your husband with a gag and a cane. I was privy to the
disgraceful manner in which you spoke to him. You are overdue for a
sound spanking, and a sound spanking you shall receive."

"Ooooh, yes my
Lord. I'll be ever so polite I promise," she sobbed.

"Yes you will,
lass," Tom declared, gruffly. "Or you'll be sorry!"

Tom's hand
increased its blessed visit to her large gelatinous bottom, landing
fiery smack after fiery smack, methodically covering her entire
backside. Tom did not possess the speed of delivery that Lord
Michael would like to have seen, but he was a large man and it
mattered not. There was no doubt Meg's bottom would be very sore
indeed, and she would have a difficult time sitting down the
following day.

"I think you
have the situation well in hand," Lord Michael stated, chuckling at
his own pun. "I shall leave you to it."

Tom's hand did
not cease its work when he raised his head and nodded his goodbye.
He would bestow some of his finest baked goods on the gentleman at
his earliest opportunity. The endless arguing with his petulant
wife was about to come to an end for which he would be eternally
grateful. Not to mention, there were some very naughty thoughts
entering his head. Thoughts he'd not had for a number of years, and
the Johnson in his pants was feeling mighty happy.

Lord Michael
slipped down the stairs to the delightful sound of Tom's slapping
hand. Meg would be a new woman from the much needed attention, and
the evening had been a welcome distraction from the headaches in
his office. He felt better than he had in days.

Heading out
into the cool night air he became consumed with thoughts of
Elizabeth. First thing in the morning he would send a message that
he would be arriving forthwith. He would handle the urgent business
matters as quickly as he could, but the other items waiting on his
desk would just have to wait.

C
hapter Three

Recovery

Elizabeth was
sitting in the chair by the window in her uncle's chambers, gazing
out at the gentle hills that rolled off into the horizon. Someone -
was it James or her father - she couldn't recall - but someone had
told her Lord Michael would be arriving. It had been nice news.
Lord Michael. It would be nice to see him.

She was tired.
She was always tired. In fact sleeping was her favourite thing to
do. But they didn't understand that. Instead of letting her sleep
they would make her sit at the dining table and then moan about her
lack of appetite. Why couldn't they understand that she simply
wasn't hungry and just wanted to go back to bed? Sometimes they
would lead her into the drawing room and her father would put his
arm around her telling her she had to cry. She didn't want or need
to cry. She just wanted to sleep. Grace understood. Grace didn't
complain about anything. Except she did insist Elizabeth get
dressed. So she did. It was easier. If she didn't get dressed it
would require conversation, and conversation wasn't anything she
was interested in.

Then there was
Freddy. Freddy was nice. Freddy came over one day and brought her
flowers. He sat with her and talked a great deal about many things.
She wasn't sure about any of it but it was nice.

Her father and
James didn't like Freddy. She knew because they did not offer him a
drink or food when he came. He visited often, and they let him sit
and talk to her but they never offered him anything. James was rude
to him. But she didn't really care. Freddy didn't ask her to talk
or eat or do anything. She could just sit and that was fine with
her. Wasn't that Freddy coming up the drive now? He had a brown
horse. Brown. Lord Michael had a black horse. And Constance...

If there was
anything she would like to do it would be to give Constance a
carrot. Or an apple. Just to see Constance. She felt something in
her throat but it went away. She felt that thing in her throat
quite often. It came when she thought about her mother, or dear
Uncle Alf. Sometimes she got it when she thought about Lord
Michael, but she didn't think about him that much. She didn't think
about anything very much. It was much easier to look at the hills,
or watch Freddie's mouth move when he was talking, or sleep.
Sleeping was her favourite thing in the whole world.

"Elizabeth,
Freddy's here to see you."

Turning slowly
she saw her father at the door.

"Do you want
to come down my dear?"

She rose
silently, a little unsteady on her feet. That seemed to be
happening quite a bit. She would stand up and feel dizzy. It would
be so much easier if they just let her sleep.

Her father
moved quickly to her side and steadied her.

"Elizabeth,
you simply must eat something," he said, despair and worry in his
voice.

If it weren't
for the tonic the Doctor had left he couldn't imagine the state she
would be in. Having the tonic was one thing. Making Elizabeth take
it was something else. They discovered that Grace, of all people,
was the only one who was able to get Elizabeth to open her mouth
and accept the spoon.

The very
moment his brother had died something had happened to her.
Something odd. Her tears had surprisingly stopped. For a few
seconds she stared at her Uncle lying lifeless and still, then
abruptly stood up and walked from the room. Much to everyone's
concern she hadn't uttered a word since. Nor had she smiled, or
cried, and she had barely eaten.

Holding her
arm he led her to the stairs and down into the foyer, then into the
large, stately drawing room. Freddie was waiting with his customary
bunch of flowers. He extended them towards her and Elizabeth, as
usual, looked at them momentarily and tilted her head to one side.
That was the most acknowledgement she would give. Mrs Danvers
stepped forward and took them to place them in a vase.

"Aren't those
flowers pretty?" her father asked, hoping for something, anything,
from his daughter, but Elizabeth stared blankly, offering no
reaction.

"Shall we sit
and chatter?" Freddie asked.

George Barrett
had never known anyone who could talk as much or as annoyingly as
Freddie Parker. He had finally uncovered the truth about Freddie.
He was the penniless son of an aristocrat. In other words, a
fortune hunter.

Everything
about Freddy irritated him. His odd, beaklike nose, the flamboyant
style of dress, and his ears. James had commented that he was
surprised the man didn't lift off on a windy day. But the most
peculiar thing about Freddy was his walk. His toes pointed outward
and he walked exactly like a duck.

He would have
thrown him out on his ear when he first came calling had he not
thought the attention of someone new might stir some interest from
his daughter. He was in a terrible quandary about what he could
possibly do to help her. The Doctor had told him she needed time.
She was in a deep state of grieving. How much time he couldn't say.
It was very worrisome. Very worrisome indeed.

The letter
from Lord Michael announcing his pending arrival was the most
welcome news George Barrett could imagine. If anyone could help her
it would be his Lordship and he was expected this very day. Both he
and James were anxiously waiting for the handsome carriage to pull
up in front of the house.

Leaving Mrs
Danvers to stay with Elizabeth and Freddy, George walked back to
the room he had set up as his study. James was seated behind the
imposing leather-topped desk, busily writing letters.

"I see Mr
Drake has arrived," he quipped. James referred to Freddy as Mr
Drake, given his odd appearance and duck-like walk.

"He has, he
has," George replied. "I just keep thinking that if he talks enough
at some point Elizabeth will have to respond, even if it's just to
tell him to be quiet. I have to believe he is so irritating she
will eventually tire of him and her marvellous old temper will take
hold once again."

James looked
up from his work.

"Father I
really am very worried. I miss my naughty, cheeky sister. I do hope
Lord Michael arrives soon."

As if on cue
they heard the clattering of a carriage coming up the long drive to
the house. The two men moved quickly to the foyer and out to the
steps, hoping it was their much anticipated visitor. Reining in the
horses the driver pulled the carriage to a stop and the door
opened. Lord Michael stepped from the cab.

George moved
forward, grabbing his hand and shaking it vigorously.

"Thank
goodness you're here. Thank goodness," he repeated. "Elizabeth -
well - you'll just have to see for yourself. There's no explaining
it. No explaining it at all."

"Please, take
me to her with all haste," Lord Michael replied. He had willed the
carriage to speed him to his destination, his concern and
impatience growing with every mile travelled.

"She's with a
very annoying fellow named Freddy," James informed him.

"And who is
this Freddy?" Lord Michael inquired, surprised at such news.

"He's a
fortune hunter, but I've allowed him access to Elizabeth in the
hopes he might - well - be able to help somehow," George replied.
"He's a chatterbox and Elizabeth hasn't spoken a word since her
uncle died."

Lord Michael
stopped mid-stride.

"Not a
word?"

"No," James
answered. "Not a word. Not a smile, not a tear - nothing. It's as
if she's not here. It's very upsetting."

James, not one
to wear his heart on his sleeve, had to swallow very hard. He was
deeply upset at his sister's plight, and seeing Lord Michael had
brought the emotion to the surface.

"Right, where
is she, and this Freddy person?" Lord Michael asked, the question
being more of a demand than an inquiry.

"Follow me,"
George said. 'They're in the drawing room."

Lord Michael
scanned the house he was about to enter. It was a stately home
indeed. He was shocked that Elizabeth's Uncle had seen fit to leave
her with such a heavy responsibility. The care and running of such
a property required experience and expertise. She had her father
and brother to help her, but even so.

Walking into
the foyer he could hear a man's high-pitched voice talking quickly
and incessantly, barely stopping for a breath. He marched in and
the first thing he saw was the back of Elizabeth's head. Though she
was seated it was clear to him the dress she was wearing was
ill-fitting, almost falling off her shoulders. Had she lost that
much weight? His gaze shifted to Freddy. He stared at the beaklike
nose, the close set eyes and the black hair, plastered down in a
most unusual manner.

Good heavens
, he thought.
The man's a raven
.

Then marching
forward and standing tall, he glared over at the odd chap.

"Enough!" he
barked.

Freddy,
shocked at the sudden and sharp interruption, abruptly stopped
speaking, and jerking his head up in a most peculiar manner, saw
standing before him a proud figure of a man. Tall, beautifully
dressed, possessing a most authoritative air. He jumped to his feet
and moved forward, head bowed, his hand extended.