Read The Legacy of Hope House Online
Authors: Dilys Xavier
The Legacy of Hope House
© Dilys Xavier 2015
Dilys Xavier has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 2009 by The Wild Rose Press. This edition published in 2015 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Anna Williams opened her eyes and stretched languidly as she remembered it was Saturday, the best day of the week. She was looking forward to a trip into town, so she slid out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, wondering which shop would stock the smartest halter-tops, and sandals. She glanced at the weather through the window so she would know what clothes to wear. It was another glorious day, the right sort for a cotton skirt and sleeveless top. She picked out a matching pale blue set and had just slipped them on when her mother called to say her breakfast was on the table.
‘Coming,’ she called, noticing Ken, the postman, arriving with mail in his hand as she passed her bedroom window. She hurried down and ran out to collect it before he dropped it through the letterbox. There were a dozen or so letters, mostly circulars or bills as usual, but as she glanced through them she saw one addressed to her and opened it quickly.
The sender was the local solicitor. Now why would Mr James be writing to me, she wondered. Eager to know what the official looking letter was about, she glanced through the content as she walked across the hall. Barely able to believe what she read, she stopped in her tracks and went through it again just to make sure she understood what it said.
‘Look at this letter, Mum,’ she blurted out, as she burst into the kitchen. ‘It says a Thomas John Williams has left me an inheritance.’ She gave her mother an enquiring look. ‘Any idea what it’s about?’ She thrust the letter into her mother’s hand. ‘Wasn’t he Dad’s brother?’
‘Yes. Thomas John was your uncle,’ Margaret said, in a quiet voice. She read it through, and without another word, drew Anna to the window. Curving her arm around the girl’s shoulders, she pointed to the distant hilltop overlooking the valley. ‘That’s where your Uncle Tom lived,’ she said softly. ‘Up there, all alone in the old house sitting right on the top of that hill.’
Anna tapped the letter, and gave her mother a quizzical look. ‘So you reckon this is about that old manor house?’
Margaret nodded. ‘I’d say so. That’s Hope House— been the Williams family home for centuries.’ She pursed her lips as she thought. ‘Thomas Williams lived the life of a recluse there—no doubt about that. Poor old Tom. I’d never have known he’d died if I hadn’t seen his obituary in the paper. I didn’t even know he was ill.’
She took a deep breath before going on. ‘I said nothing to you. Didn’t think you’d be interested, and I never thought he’d leave you anything. Not that his old house would be any good to anyone; too big and too neglected.’ She pulled a face and continued. ‘The man never bothered with us, not even when your father died. That’s why you never got the chance to know him.’
Margaret fell silent and for several seconds they both stared silently through the window at the outline of the solitary house. Perched on the top of the distant hill, it was barely visible through the drift of morning mist that hung around it like a ghostly shroud.
‘Well, so your Uncle Tom has left you an inheritance.’ She handed the letter back with a smile, but then her expression sharpened. ‘And so he should. With your father gone you are his sole beneficiary. Or so it appears. Tom never married; he had no other close family.’ She chuckled, and pulled a face. ‘None that I’m aware of anyway.’ A twinkle popped into her eyes. ‘But you never know with those quiet ones though, they’re as deep as the ocean.’ Then she sighed. ‘Of course, you’re his only brother’s child—and his godchild as well, so it should be yours, by rights.’
‘You’ve never talked about him, Mum. Why’s that?’
Margaret linked an arm in Anna’s and drew her over to the table.
‘No point. We got out of the habit of even thinking about him.’ She pushed Anna’s breakfast in front of her. ‘It’s a shame, but he went out of our life and out of mind when you were a babe.’ She tapped the plate in front of Anna. ‘Eat your breakfast now. It won’t be nice cold, and while you’re eating I’ll tell you as much as I know of the family story, although it doesn’t amount to much.’ As Anna tucked into her meal, Margaret began.
‘Your father sold his half share of Hope House Estate to Tom soon after you were born. For a mere pittance at that, I might add,’ she said, with a noticeable sniff. ‘If he hadn’t done that, then your father’s half would have come to me on his death, and then to you after my day. That means you’d have had to wait a bit longer for it, seeing as I don’t intend to expire just yet.’
She gave a wan smile. ‘We sold because we needed the money then. Tom was already a wealthy businessman in his own right and, to me, there seemed no doubt he wanted the grand style of the Hope House all to himself, the greedy old so and so. He fancied himself as the local Squire, that’s what I reckon, and I’ll bet I was right.’ She nodded approval. ‘Anyway, it seems to me you’re getting the family estate all in one go.’
Margaret squeezed Anna’s shoulders affectionately and went on, ‘But, oh lordy, if what you’ve inherited is that old wreck of a house,’ she took a deep sigh before delivering the rest of her opinion, ‘then my guess is that your uncle has left you what I would call a white elephant.’
Margaret curved her arm round Anna’s shoulders again. ‘I’m sorry to say this, but I’m telling you straight, were I in your shoes I would lay no claim to that place.’
‘Oh Mum, why?’ Anna whined.
‘Obvious, isn’t it?’ Margaret’s raised voice rang with a note of contempt. ‘I’d give no thanks to him for passing on the responsibility of such a monstrosity; something stuck on the top of a hill and miles from anywhere.’ She pointed to the place, and a heavy frown creased her forehead. ‘For starters, it’s huge. I don’t think you realise how enormous the running costs of a house that big would be,’ she said brusquely. ‘Admittedly, Hope House was once a grand place; one that could allow its owner to live in style. But just look at it now… it’s nothing but a great big responsibility, a pile of neglected bricks and mortar. It’s not the place for you; only someone with oodles of money could consider it as a home.’
Still obviously disturbed, Margaret clucked her tongue as she continued to gaze through the window. ‘Consider this too, Anna, knowing Tom, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have spent any of his precious money on the house, so it’s bound to need repairs; lots of repairs. Just think what it would cost to put a place of that size right.’ She pulled a face. ‘If he’s left you that, Tom’s done you no favour. If he’s left you cash that’s great news, but I don’t like the idea of you being saddled with that monstrosity.’ She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Honestly, owning Hope House is never worth the worry it’ll bring; take my word for it.’
Anna had listened attentively to what her mother had told her, but made no comment on any of Margaret’s observations. If she hasn’t seen the place for years, maybe it’s in a better state than she thinks, Anna surmised.
When she had finished her breakfast Anna settled into a comfortable chair to read the letter again. She felt the urge to read it over and over for, to her, it was exciting, despite her mother’s criticism.
Her mind went back to her youth. ‘We played a lot up and down that hillside when we were kids,’ she said, placing the letter on the table and smiling as she thought of her happy childhood days. ‘It was fun. We used to slide down the steep grass slopes and swing on the trees, but we never went near the old house; it always looked so spooky. We were all scared of those huge, black windows; they looked like sunken, hollow eyes staring down on us wherever we went. I remember what great fun it was to play on the lawns at the front, and in the woods at the back.’ She looked at her mother. ‘We used to scare each other by saying the house was haunted, and that we could see faces looking at us through the windows.’ She leaned closer to Margaret. ‘It isn’t haunted though, is it, Mum?’
‘Well, the locals are responsible for spinning that yarn about the place,’ her mother said, lifting her brows. ‘I don’t know why people say such silly things. It’s got to be nonsense, because I never felt like that about it. I went there just before I married your father, only once admittedly, and it seemed okay to me at the time, but I was only there for about an hour so I didn’t really get the proper feel of it.’
Margaret sighed deeply. ‘The old place looked a lot smarter in those days too. It’s such a shame that, after I married Phil, he and Tom drifted apart, so I never went there again. It was as though our marriage had brought their relationship to a close.’
She patted Anna fondly on the head as she reached over to gather up the used breakfast dishes. ‘Tom was not a loving sort of man; he had too many ideas of grandeur. He was pompous, thought he was the cat’s pyjamas and all that. He had lots of casual girlfriends over the years, but never settled for one of them. I believe he thought no one was good enough for him.’ She pulled another face at her recollections. ‘As though his pomposity wasn’t enough, he was greedy as well, selfish, domineering, and secretive.’
Another deep sigh escaped her lips. ‘It’s a crying shame, but their relationship became more strained as the years went by. It could all have been so different; that’s what gets me.’ She dumped the dirty dishes in the washing up bowl, and then sat down at the table. ‘Your father went to Hope House very little after we married; no more than a couple of times if I remember right.’ Margaret cupped her face in her hands and stared at Anna. ‘Why - you might ask. He wasn’t invited, that’s why. And they quarrelled whenever they met, seldom though that was.’
She shook her head and gave a whimsical smile before continuing. ‘Oddly enough, there was never any obvious feud between Tom and myself; not that I was aware of anyway.’ Then her eyes crinkled as she chuckled and went on with her story, which by now seemed to be giving her some pleasure. ‘Ironically, it was your Uncle Tom who introduced me to your father. I knew Tom was sweet on me, and he made no secret of it.’ She gave a coy smile. ‘Always fussing over me, he was, always giving me little presents, always pestering me to go out with him. I never did though. I just didn’t fancy him; he knew it and that annoyed him.’
The twinkle returned briefly to Margaret’s eyes, and she seemed to be enjoying her memories. She smiled, and slipped into another little daydream. ‘I think Tom took it hard when he saw how easily your Dad and I hit it off. He could see it was a case of love at first sight, and he was jealous.’ She grimaced, and nodded her head. ‘Yes, he was jealous all right, and on top of that I dared reject him and marry Phil instead. I think that’s what caused the trouble between them to start with, and it got worse from there on.’
She allowed her thoughts to slip back yet again. ‘If your father had lived long enough for you to get to know him, you’d realise why I chose him. You see, Phil was a gem; kind, loving, thoughtful, and as handsome as any film star.’ Margaret’s eyes shone as she spoke of him. ‘With one glance, he could sweep any woman off her feet, and that made me the envy of every girl in the village.’
Smiling broadly, she shook her head and spoke with a catch in her throat. ‘Oh, but my word, was I the proud one.’ She wiped away a tear. ‘Phil was the one I fancied without a doubt, and after he died, I never looked at anyone else. No one could have matched up to him. No one.’ She sniffed hard into her hanky and brushed her fair hair back off her forehead.
Delicately pretty, Margaret Williams was slim, tall, and forty something. Anna had inherited her fair skin and corn coloured hair, as well as her svelte figure. But Margaret’s face bore the strain of a difficult life. Her blue eyes had lost their radiant sparkle, and two furrows had taken firm hold on her brow. With no husband to earn them a living, she had trained in hotel management. It was enough to get her a decent job that paid just enough to keep them both, but no more. Her mother had insisted that Anna took a college course in business management, and immediately she finished her studies, she found a well-paid job in town.
Margaret sighed deeply as she picked up Anna’s letter and studied it again. ‘This is vague, but my guess is it must be the old house Tom has left you. But, contain yourself until you see that solicitor, then you’ll know exactly what’s coming to you.’ She tapped the sheet of paper. ‘If the house turns out to be yours, we’ll go there straight away to see what condition it’s in.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Don’t get too excited about it, my love, because guessing the way Tom lived, I’ll bet it’s in a right old state.’
