The Purloined Papers (9 page)

Mr. Barry cleared his throat.

Chloe pulled her thoughts back to the drawing room, wondering if Peter would let her choose a memento of their mother. And Kevin’s folio. Everything of value was long gone, so he wouldn’t be giving up anything he could use.

“Ahem,” the solicitor said again. “This is the last will and testament of Sir Nigel Fields, revised on August the twentieth of this year.”

Only a fortnight ago. Chloe shivered, though the revision meant nothing. Her father had changed his will whenever his luck changed. Sometimes he rewrote everything. Other times he modified bequests to the servants or cut someone out – like her. Mr. Barry probably supported himself quite comfortably from drawing up Fields wills.

Chloe paid scant attention to the will – until she heard her own name. “I appoint my solicitor, Thomas Barry, as guardian to my daughter, Chloe, until such time as she is duly wed.”

Peter scowled, even as Chloe’s spirits soared. She would not be under her brother’s thumb after all. She need no longer fear that he would discover her savings and confiscate them. That hadn’t been her father’s intent, of course – he had doubtless added this provision to annoy Peter – but she was grateful. And this explained why Mr. Barry had insisted she stay for the reading.

She listened with half an ear to her father’s bequests. A clock to Gramling. A walking stick to Simms. China birds to Mrs. Harper. An inlaid box to Cook. Handkerchiefs. A cloak. It all seemed rather odd. Of course, he’d sold everything of value, so all that remained was gesture.

“And to my daughter, Chloe, I bequeath my wife’s jewelry casket, including contents.”

Again Peter scowled, though he must know, as she did, that the most valuable piece left would bring only a shilling or two. But she was pleased with the gift – and surprised. Perhaps her father’s anger had cooled. Pride would have prevented an apology, so he’d made it via his will. It increased her guilt for clinging to her grievances.

The casket was a lovely memento of her mother. It wasn’t fancy, which made it suitable for someone in her position. And the enameled brooch depicting willows along a stream would look nice on her best gown.

Everything else went to Peter, of course, for he was the heir. But he did not look happy.

“There is one more matter,” said Mr. Barry, laying down the will. “Shortly before his death, Sir Nigel established two trusts. Now that he is gone, the assets go to the beneficiaries, without condition. The first is for Gramling, to honor forty years of service. Sir Nigel had intended to augment the amount from time to time, but had no chance to do so. It is yours – one hundred guineas.”  He produced a bank draft.

Gramling’s eyes gleamed.

“The second is for Miss Chloe, to replace the dowry he borrowed,” continued her new guardian. “Again, he had no time to increase the initial two hundred guineas. But it is yours outright.”

She stared at the draft. Two hundred?  Enough to buy that cottage. Her other savings would support her for a time, so she needn’t panic if students did not immediately appear. Her head swirled. She was free. Every dream she’d cherished since her failed Season was finally within her grasp. And it was all her father’s doing.

She should have made peace with him. Even if he’d set up this trust solely out of pride, it was more than she’d expected or deserved. The very existence of the trust admitted that he knew his weakness, knew he couldn’t trust himself to—

“He can’t do that!” shouted Peter, slamming his fists onto a table. His face turned purple. “He can’t dissipate my inheritance.”

“Of course he could,” said the solicitor coldly. “You are lucky to receive a farthing. The only thing that is yours by right is the title. He could have cut you off entirely, for Fields House is not entailed. Frankly, he considered it. He was so furious the last time we spoke, I was amazed that he left you in the will at all. He swore your gaming had already squandered everything of value. Only his feud with his brother kept him from placing the estate there. The trusts were intended to protect Gramling and Miss Chloe from your next loss.”

“Out!”  Peter pointed to the door. “Leave this house at once. You will never work for me again.”

“I never
have
worked for you,” said Mr. Barry calmly. “Nor would I. Any solicitor you employ will find himself dealing with the most unsavory characters in the land.”  Gathering his papers, he murmured, “Stay in touch, my dear,” to Chloe, then left.

Gramling escorted him to the door.

“You will return my money immediately, Chloe,” ordered Peter, preventing her from following. “It is ridiculous to put that much cash at the disposal of an ignorant girl. It proves that Father had lost his reason. No court will let you keep it. So give it back.”

“It was never yours.”  Her voice shook, but that was inevitable. As usual, Peter’s reaction was utterly selfish. Thank heavens he had no legal claim to her possessions.

“It is mine by right of inheritance.”  He held out his hand.

“No. It was placed in trust before Father’s death and ceased being part of the estate at that time. And don’t blather on about reason. Father was as sane as you. So leave it be. You have everything else.”

“Everything?  I have nothing!”  He released her to grab the brandy decanter, draining a glass and refilling it before turning back to her. “Do you know what he left me?  Three mortgages totaling more than this ruin is worth. A house stripped of everything valuable. Animals worth less than the cost of transporting them to market.”  Again he drained the glass. “I’ve nothing. Nothing!”

Concerned about the rate at which he was drinking, she softened her tone and inched toward the door. “It cannot be that bad, Peter. Surely his investments are worth something. I know his luck was rarely good, but even the bad shares returned part of his money.”

“Hah!  The only one that might return a shilling is a shipping venture, but it’s not due for weeks. And with his luck, the damned boat will sink. At least he won’t be around to blame that one on me.”

“How could—”

“Don’t you start.”  His eyes narrowed. “I’m tired of taking the blame for his stupidity. And I’m doubly tired of paying for it. You heard Barry. Father told everyone that his financial woes were my fault. Granted, I lost a few hundred guineas, but what about that mining venture last spring?  Or the thousands he lost on that canal scheme?  I won’t pay for this latest insult. I’ll starve unless you see reason. So give back the money.”

“No. It’s mine, Peter,” she added as his fist clenched. “I need it more than you do. At least you have a roof over your head. I live at the mercy of others. But even were I wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, I would not allow my meager inheritance to finance your next game of hazard.”  Whirling, she left the room.

Amazingly, he didn’t follow, though something crashed against the wall. Probably the empty decanter.

It was time to leave. Peter was so desperate, he might resort to dishonor. Had he pushed their father down the stairs to obtain his expected inheritance?

Impossible, she assured herself, though the thought remained. Perhaps Andrew could debunk it. In the meantime, she had to leave – and take the jewelry casket with her. In Peter’s current mood, even a few shillings for her mother’s brooches could be enticing.

She collected her bandbox, then retrieved the casket. The brooches remained inside. As an afterthought, she ducked into Kevin’s room for the folio of animal prints. Then she headed for the library.

* * * *

Andrew glanced up when the library door opened. Had Sally recalled some further fact and returned?  She’d revealed that the piles of books had been accumulating for nearly a year. Sir Nigel had been increasingly secretive, refusing to allow anyone to touch the burgeoning stacks of paper on his desk or move a single book.

But the newcomer was Chloe.

His heart surged. It was annoying to realize that his reaction was growing stronger. He needed to leave Devonshire before he did something he would regret.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

“What is that?”  She had a carved box under one arm.

“Mother’s jewelry case. Father left it to me.”

“A nice gesture.”

“Peter does not think so – which is why we must leave. His temper is high, and he’s drinking hard.”

Andrew frowned. Every new fact he unearthed about Peter showed him in a worse light. “A retreat seems prudent, then. I’ll take those.”  He tucked her bundles under one arm and offered her the other.

As they descended the stairs, Peter lurched from the drawing room. “You are not leaving until you sign over the draft,” he snapped, blocking the front door.

“What is he talking about?”  Andrew frowned at Chloe.

“My dowry. Father left it in trust for me. Mr. Barry brought a draft for the total, since Father’s death terminated the trust. It is mine to use as I please.”

“I mean it,” swore Peter. “That last mortgage is a killer. I’ll lose everything if I don’t have funds.”

“You should have thought of that before gaming away a dozen fortunes.”  Chloe shook her head. “Enough, Peter. I wish you well, but I’ll not give my inheritance to a gamester. I have my own future to think of.”  She headed for the door.

“I’ll have the cash, even if I have to lock you up,” he swore, jerking her around to face him.

“Don’t touch her,” Andrew barked, freezing Peter in his tracks.

Peter backed several paces, freeing Chloe to rub her throbbing arm.

Andrew studied Peter, from disheveled hair to boots muddied in the graveyard. “You are understandably upset, Sir Peter,” he continued in a milder tone. “But that does not excuse your manners. No gentleman expects his sister to support him. Sleep until your head is clear, then confront your problems like a man.”

Peter blinked.

Before he could recover, Andrew pulled the front door open and shoved Chloe outside. His temper flared at her obvious relief. She was afraid of her own brother.

He frowned at the empty drive. His curricle was at the stable, and there was no footman to summon it.

“Let’s walk around,” she suggested. “I don’t trust him.”

“Good idea. How much is the dowry?” he added as he led her down the steps.

“Two hundred guineas. Not enough to help him if things are as bad as he claims. All he could do would be to stake it in a card game. I doubt he would win. But I can now buy my own cottage.”

He opened his mouth, then whirled as footsteps raced from behind. But it was only Sally.

“Miss Chloe,” she sobbed. “He’s mad. He told us never to allow you inside again.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said soothingly. “But you needn’t fear having to carry out his edict. I’ve no intention of returning. Why are you crying?” 

Andrew wanted the same answer, but he obeyed Chloe’s gesture to continue to the stable alone. Sally would speak more freely if he were gone.

* * * *

Chloe drew in a deep breath. The morning had already been too emotional. Without Andrew, she would never have escaped Fields House intact. He had dominated the hall, towering over Peter, his air of command snapping everyone else to attention. He was very much the captain, while Peter had seemed a dissolute child.

“Why are you crying?” she repeated, fearful that Peter had turned his fury on those who couldn’t fight back.

“I won’t never see you again. I can’t stay on here. Master Pe—  Sir Peter, now. Sir Peter never liked me. He’ll turn me off, like as not. So I’ll be needing that reference we spoke of.”

“Of course. I can post it to Mr. Barry. See him if Peter dismisses you. Or there is another option. With the money Father left me, I can afford a cottage of my own. I will need a housekeeper. Would you like the job?”

“Gladly.”

“It won’t be what you’re used to,” she warned.

“I’d rather work for you than for someone I cannot like, no matter how grand the house.”

“Excellent. I don’t know the details yet, so please say nothing. I will send word when I need you. In the meantime, let me know if anything happens. One of the Parker boys would fetch me,” she added, naming a tenant.

Sally nodded.

Pleased with the solution, Chloe sent her inside and headed for the stable.

“I cannot believe that Peter demanded your dowry,” Andrew said once they left Fields House behind.

“He wouldn’t have under normal circumstances.”

“What changed?”

She sighed. “It is a long story.”

“We have time. After last night’s rain, it will take two hours to reach Moorside. I doubt that you have learned two hours of news since we last spoke.”

She hesitated, but she’d already revealed so much, a little more wouldn’t matter. And talking might clarify her thoughts.

“Did Kevin tell you about my Season?” she asked.

He nodded. “Sir Nigel provided an insultingly small dowry, so you couldn’t find a match.”

“That sums it up quite nicely,” she said, grateful that Kevin hadn’t realized how unenthusiastic she’d been – stupid, but she’d been eighteen and still pining for Andrew. And she’d expected a second Season. Her father had even mentioned taking her to London, though she’d known better than to count on that one. “Father was furious. He’d expected me to attach a wealthy husband who could cover his losses if another investment failed – this was shortly after the steward ran off, so he was desperate to recover. I have nothing against wealth, but I refused to lie about our circumstances. It didn’t take long before everyone in Bath knew we were fortune hunters.”

“That sounds harsh.”

“You didn’t see Father that year. His antics mortified me. He became so obnoxious that Mother finally insisted we return home.”  She drew in a deep breath. “Two months later, Father lost yet another investment and had to use my dowry to pay the bills. He and Mother argued bitterly about it. He promised to replace the funds, but Kevin died before he managed it. After that, Mother no longer cared.”

His hand pressed hers in comfort.

“I knew I couldn’t count on Father, and I had no desire to spend my life at Fields House. Once Peter started gaming, Father’s temper grew even worse. Peter has no head for games – especially when it is fuzzed with wine, which happens often, for he has no head for wine, either. With two of them losing, money disappeared like water through sand. Neither of them was happy about it.”  Both had started relieving their tempers against her. It had never moved beyond verbal assaults, but it was another reason she’d needed to leave.