Hearts of Gold (13 page)

‘Do you have a copy of John’s last will and testament with you?’

‘We do.’ Ignatious opened the briefcase he’d brought with him, because it contained the legacies for the staff. He then took out a handkerchief and hastily mopped his brow. ‘Before you read it I’d like to run through one or two points that need clearing up.’

Magnus turned. He noticed the perspiration on the old man’s face and shrugged. Surely he wasn’t that frightening. ‘I can see from your faces that I’m not going to like the contents of the will. I’d rather you just left it on my desk. I’ll call on you later in the week and we can discuss the finer points then. I might as well tell you that if he has left this girl his Bournemouth house, I intend to contest it.’

‘Which might end up costing you more than the house is worth, but that will be up to you, of course,’ Gerald said, and smiled, which immediately put Magnus on alert.

‘I don’t like that smile. Gerald. What else?’

‘I thought you wanted to read the will yourself.’

Gritting his teeth, Magnus forced out. ‘Stop looking so damned smug. What else, dammit!’

Throwing a wad of papers on to the desk, Gerald said, ‘My condolences on the death of your uncle. A pity you didn’t learn some manners from him, but like all the Kerns, you always were an arrogant bastard.’

‘Enough,’ Ignatious said quietly. ‘A man who was a good friend of mine has died in a tragic manner at the hands of a coward. Let us at least recognize that fact and act with the dignity this deserves.’

‘My apologies, gentlemen,’ Magnus immediately said, and held out his hand first to Ignatious, then as the older man began to leave, to Gerald. ‘You caught me at a bad moment, and I’d forgotten how good you are at needling me.’

‘Any time, Magnus. I really am sorry about your uncle. The world will be a less colourful place without him.’ He lowered his voice. ‘How’s Isabelle these days?’

Magnus gave him a dark look. ‘Don’t you already know?’

Gerald smiled. ‘A gentleman never tells what he knows, but I’m not one of her confidants. A tip to the wise, Magnus. I do know that you’d be better off without her, and the sooner the better?’

After they took their leave Magnus poured himself a stiff brandy and opened his copy of John Kern’s will. His uncle had left the servants the princely sum of two hundred guineas each, along with his profound thanks for their faithful service. The money was in the form of cash, provided by Ignatious, and placed in sealed envelopes with their names on it.

To Sarette Maitland I leave my house in Bournemouth and the income from my annuities, as listed.

Magnus whistled. He’d known nothing about the annuities, and the total was quite a staggering sum, enough to maintain the Bournemouth house with plenty left over.

His uncle had thought of everything, including distribution of the estate should the child die. Conscience pricked, Magnus smiled. After all, there was plenty of money to go around, and it wouldn’t cost him a penny. His uncle had a generous heart and it wouldn’t hurt him to do as he asked with regards to the child. ‘Sarette Maitland,’ he murmured. ‘A pretty name.’

He called the staff in and told them the bad news. The cook burst into tears, which set a couple of the maids off sobbing as well.

What was it about his uncle that commanded such loyalty? he thought grumpily, then felt ashamed of himself.

He followed it up with the good. ‘John Kern has bequeathed to each of you the sum of two hundred guineas, and his thanks for your loyalty to the Kern family. He said it will be the means to escape my service, if you so wish. Naturally, I’m hoping for the opposite.’

‘God love the master, where else would I go?’ the cook said in a watery voice, and without his permission, the butler got a bottle of sherry out of the cupboard and they drank a toast to John’s departure, followed by one to their good fortune.

Magnus left for the stables, and he supposed they’d drink half his cellar, and his dinner would be late. Saddling his horse, he sprang into the saddle and rode down to the cove. The tide was in so he cantered along the cliff top, then brought the horse to a halt.

If he had a child to bring up, then she’d need a woman to look after her. Isabelle? He’d been on the brink of proposing to her once, now he shook his head. Gerald had given him good warning. He was going to London in a couple of weeks’ time, leaving his partner in charge of the chambers. He’d intended to take Isabelle with him, now he decided it would be better to bring their association to an end before he left.

While he was away someone could come in and refurbish the nursery rooms, and the child could move in as soon as they were ready. The girl could go to a school nearby when she was older. He’d make his intentions known to Ignatious Grimble by letter, and leave his instructions. A woman could be hired to look after her. After all, he didn’t want her running around and getting underfoot.

As for the house in Bournemouth, he must think seriously about that. He already had more than enough money for his own needs. But if he married he’d have children, he thought, and would have to consider the possibility that he’d need the house and the annuities for his own family.

But then, he argued, it was more than likely that the little girl had been fathered by John Kern. Why else would he have brought her into the family? From a moral standpoint, Sarette would be entitled to something from her father’s estate, and he’d make sure that she did. After all, that’s why she’d been placed in his keeping. His uncle had trusted him to do the right thing and had provided the girl with a good dowry. It was too big, and would attract all the wrong sorts, of course. Money always talked. Perhaps he would find a good woman in London, marry her and provide the child with a mother.

He grinned. ‘No wonder Gerald had looked so smug when they’d told him about Sarette.’ Magnus certainly hadn’t expected to have such a responsibility foisted on to him.

Idly, he wondered if Gerald was taking anyone to the Legal Association Christmas Ball. Gerald usually had good taste in women, and Magnus felt the need to give as good as he’d got . . . or better.

Sarette was attached to Gerald’s arm and strolling along the seafront. For August the day was cold, with a persistent wind driving the sand hard up on to the shore with a rushing sound. There were very few people about, some hardy adults and children building sandcastles and digging holes. A couple of old people struggled against the wind, their coats billowing. Others huddled in the shelters.

The bathing machines were high above the tide mark. The Queen’s Jubilee clock kept watch over the Esplanade, its base rooted in the sand. One of its other two faces gazed down King Street and the other out to sea.

Sarette’s carefully arranged hair soon loosened itself and went flying in the wind.

They seated themselves in a shelter and she attempted to braid it.

‘Allow me.’

Gerald’s hands were wonderfully gentle and she closed her eyes, shivering a little.

‘Cold?’ he asked, knotting his handkerchief around the end of the braid.

‘A little. It doesn’t feel much like summer.’

‘You’ve been used to a warmer climate. Shall I take you back home?’

She sighed. ‘What was so important that I be got out of the way for a while?’

‘I thought you were so enamoured by my charm that you didn’t notice.’

‘Dear Gerald, I’m not in the least bit enamoured by you, though I have to admit you can be charming. You’re trying to distract me. John Kern used to do that when he didn’t want me to know about something.’

‘It’s the lawyer in us. We liked being challenged. You do know you’ve hurt my feelings, don’t you?’

‘I do know that you’re a wonderful flirt. I’m sure I haven’t harmed a hair on your head. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’

‘No, I certainly am not. It’s none of your business.’

‘Which means it is. Have you heard from Mr John? Is he on his way home?’

His reply was unexpected, when he stooped his head and kissed her. Good Lord, what intimate feelings rioting through her. How soft and sweet a kiss it was. Alarm raced through her . . . and how highly improper.

She pushed him away.
‘Mr Grimble!’

‘Mr Grimble?’
he mocked, his eyes alight with amusement. ‘Oh, don’t sound so spinsterish, you know very well that you enjoyed being kissed.’

She tried not to laugh as she lied, ‘I certainly did not. Your moustache tickled me.’

‘God forbid that anyone should tickle you, Miss Maitland. You spent several years living with John Kern, who, as I recall, was a man who held great fascination for women, but was much too old for you. I cannot believe that you’re as naive as you pretend. Isn’t it about time you grew up?’

She stood, her smile fading and hurt squeezing at her chest. ‘No, I’m not at all naive. But you do John Kern an injustice. I was a child when I met him, and in his heart as well as his eyes, still a child when he sent me away. He did warn me about the ways of men though. He told me how they sweet-talk a woman, and how they cheat and lie and take what they want if the opportunity arises. When you see him next, ask him about the time he fought off two men who came across me when I was alone, and were attacking me. That was when he decided what my future would be.’

‘Sarette . . . I’m sorry.’

She shook off his hand. ‘I’m sick of being treated like a fool with your diversions. John Kern promised to come for me and he will. And I don’t care if he’s too old. I’ll marry him so he won’t feel lonely any more, and I’ll look after him and he’ll keep me safe.’

Turning her back on him she was about to flounce off when he said harshly, ‘He’ll do none of those things. John Kern is dead.’

She felt as though she’d been kicked in the back, and turned, her eyes searching his so to see the truth in them. There was no denying it as he said a little more gently, ‘John Kern was dead and in his grave before you reached England.’

The colour gradually drained from her face. ‘Don’t lie to me about this, Gerald . . . not this. Otherwise I will never forgive you.’

He took her back into the shelter, seated her next to him. ‘We were worried because we hadn’t heard from him. We sent one of my brothers to try and find him. We have just had news from Edgar.’

‘How . . . was it his stomach? I knew it pained him sometimes, though he wouldn’t admit to it. And his skin had a yellow tinge to it. He said it was his tan wearing off. I made him go to a doctor . . . he prescribed brandy.’

‘He was shot in the back by a coward and he died instantly.’

Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. ‘Mr John took the place of my father, and he was my best friend. I’ve missed him so much, now I’ll never see him again.’

Curiously limp, and unaware of the relief Gerald experienced at her words, she found herself in his arms and comforted against his chest.

‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to tell you . . . not yet,’ he said.

Sarette would rather have not known – would rather have gone on enjoying the life John had provided for her and living in ignorance. Gerald had used her youth as a lever to make her grow up. ‘It was cruel, the way you said it.’

He gave an ashamed sort of smile. ‘I know. I was envious because John raised so much passion in you, when I was so easily rejected. I wanted to hurt you.’

‘And you succeeded. Why were you envious?’

‘I’m not a man used to being spurned. You made me feel like a fool.’

She didn’t want this level of intimacy with Gerald, there was danger in it. ‘I didn’t mean to spurn you. You took me by surprise, and it served you right. Can we remain friends? I’m not ready to take up a serious relationship with a man yet – not any man, if that will make you feel better.’

‘Except John Kern.’

She shrugged. ‘It was just words. Mr John wouldn’t have allowed me to sacrifice my youth for him.’

Gerald smiled and nodded. ‘You know him better than I first thought. We’d better go back to the house. No doubt I’ll be chastised by my father.’

She couldn’t imagine a grown man being given a dressing-down by his father. ‘What will happen to me now?’

‘We will follow John Kern’s instructions to the letter. You will finish your year with Mrs Lawrence, after all it’s only a few weeks. Then you’ll become the ward of Magnus Kern until you marry.’

‘Marry?’

‘Well, your benefactor did suggest to Magnus that he find you a husband . . . eventually. Don’t worry, it will be painless. I expect you’ll attend balls, and can practise those dances I taught you. Then there will be theatres and dinners, and then one day you’ll meet someone and fall in love, just as John wanted. Perhaps that someone will be me. I’ll ask Magnus to put a good word in for me. I’ve never met a female I’ve liked better.’

Perhaps it would be Gerald. But liking was not enough. Sarette wanted to be loved before she’d contemplate marriage, and wanted a husband she could love and respect in return. But just at this moment she could only mourn the loss of Mr John. As for Magnus Kern, the nephew John had thought so much of, Sarette was not looking forward to meeting him at all.

She glanced up at him. ‘Has Magnus Kern been told about this?’

‘Yes. This morning. Magnus was not happy about being saddled with you, but he held his uncle in great esteem, and he’ll do what was expected of him once he gets over the shock of having to be responsible for another human being. Don’t allow yourself to be frightened by him. He has a good side along with the bad.’

Sarette didn’t feel all that happy about being saddled with Magnus Kern either. ‘He sounds perfectly horrible. Didn’t he want to meet me?’