Shades of the Past (5 page)

The small Bible lay forgotten until Vanessa was vacating the Paris suite to return to England with Lawrence and Lady Gwen's coffin.  At the last moment, she tucked the volume in her own case.  She was glad now she hadn't fulfilled Lady Gwen's strange request, but thought to bury it with her instead.

She looked up to find that the family solicitor, Mr. Whitmore, had come to stand by the viscount's side and was saying something to his ear.

Cissy waited for him to finish before taking up the conversation and steering it into a new vein. 

"Vanessa is compiling a mourning album for the family, Adrian.  Isn't that splendid of her?  She held the sittings yesterday afternoon." 

"Are the portraits ready to be viewed?" Lord Henry asked with marked enthusiasm.  His interest in photography, or at least the finished product, was almost as keen as young Geoffrey's.

"Actually, I intend to develop the plates at my cousin's home in Hampshire, where they can provide me with space for a temporary darkroom."

"I didn't know it was possible to travel with exposed plates."  Surprisingly, the question came from Lord Marrable.

Vanessa studied her hands, avoiding his eyes.  "If one uses the 'dry' process, then yes.  The gelatin plates are fitted into a specially designed box which protects them.  I will personally carry it on the train."

Cissy's eyes grew suddenly wide.  "Vanessa, what of my brother?  He must be included in the album.  You could pose him now and take the plate with you."

Vanessa's heart skipped a beat.  "I fear there is not nearly time enough.  I've a train to catch in Hereford."

An arctic coolness pooled over her, causing Vanessa to stiffen.  Perhaps it was good she was leaving, she decided, before she caught her death of cold.

She consulted the watch attached to her bodice.  "Actually, I see I should gather my things now.  It's drawing near time for me to depart."

In all honesty, there was a wide margin of time to spare, but after discussing Lady Gwen's demise, she suddenly craved the privacy of her room.  And a warm jacket.

"If you will excuse me . . ."  Vanessa started to rise but suddenly felt the weight of a hand upon her right shoulder, pressing her firmly back down into her chair.

With a gasp, she plopped ungracefully onto her seat, crushing her bustle as she did.  Shocked by the rudeness of the gesture, she looked to Sir Fotheringgay to her right.  But his hands were occupied with his spoon and fork as he sampled the jellies and cakes.

"Leave?" Mr. Whitmore, who still stood by the viscount's side, blustered aloud, his shrubby brows shooting heavenward.  "You cannot leave, Mrs. Wynters.  Not yet.  You are among those named in Lady Gwendolyn's will."

Surprise lit the eyes of all who turned to her, excepting at the table's far end where Majel's narrowed to slits.

Whether she was relieved or disappointed that Mr. Whitmore delayed the viscount in the banqueting hall, Vanessa had yet to resolve. 

But then Cissy and
Lord Henry
allowed her not a moment to ponder it.  They quickly took her under wing and swept her along with them, the solicitor having promised an immediate reading of the will to accommodate Vanessa's pressing schedule. 

Lawrence joined them now as they quit the hall and headed for the family's private "sitting library."  He chatted easily, seeming much more the man she'd known this week past. 
Seeming
so.  Admittedly, she wasn't paying close attention.  Her mind still spun as they approached the library doors. 

Lady Gwen had included her in her will, likely to bequeath her some small memento.  That would have been most kind of her, and Vanessa felt deeply appreciative.  At the same time, she dearly hoped she would not miss her train. 

It wasn't so much the cost of her ticket which would be forfeit that concerned her.  Once she arrived at her cousin’s in Hampshire, she must promptly begin advertising for a new position.  She could not afford to delay.  Though her late husband had not left her totally bereft, he had not left her financially secure either.  She hoped to find a new position soon, though she'd be fortunate to find one half as satisfying or fulfilling as the one she enjoyed with Lady Gwendolyn. 

The future that awaited her promised to be lonely, isolating.  Whether she served as a companion or governess, she would be a genteel woman caught in that restricted, nebulous realm, existing above the household's hired servants but below the family, neither belonging nor associating with either beyond her duties.

No, she could not hope for such a close association with her next employer as that which she'd experienced with Lady Gwen.  They shared a true friendship, special, irreplaceable.  Indeed, they had very much been companions to each other.  Vanessa confessed, she'd not known a moment's loneliness since entering Lady Gwen's employ,

Following Cissy and Lord Henry, Vanessa crossed the library threshold on Lawrence's arm. 

The room proved spacious, though smaller in scale than most she'd seen at Sherringham.  Recessed bookcases stretched along the walls, appearing part of the architecture, touched with Gothic overtones. 

Overstuffed sofas surrounded a wide fireplace.  Above its mantel, a lion and a unicorn supported the Marrable Achievement of Arms, the spotted panther rearing from its crest.  Inscribed on the riband beneath the shield appeared the motto "Fierce when roused." 

Vanessa smiled inwardly, remembering the viscount's look when he first arrived at the funeral.

At the room's far end loomed a great hexagonal bay, its windows soaring to an extravagant height with jewel-tone coats-of-arms painted into the upper lights.  Situated in the bay’s alcove stood a large double library desk of mahogany and a deep leather chair behind it.  Additional chairs, also leather, had been drawn forward and positioned in semicircular fashion, facing the desk and bay. 

Feeling somewhat out-of-place, Vanessa indicated to Lawrence that she preferred to take the chair on the far left, allowing the family to be seated together.  He graciously led her there then assumed the seat beside her.  Cissy and Lord Henry took the chairs to the right, and Majel and her husband, trailing into the library last, installed themselves on the far-most right.

Mindful of the passing time, Vanessa slipped a glance to her watch and wondered how long they would wait before the viscount and Mr. Whitmore appeared.  Several moments later, the men strode into the room. 

Lord Marrable, his features once more an unreadable mask, seated himself behind the great desk.  Presumably he did so in order to observe the others, or so it seemed to Vanessa.

Mr. Whitmore, a sober, heavy-jawed man with untamed brows and hair, assumed his place to the left of the desk and withdrew an envelope from his jacket.  Adjusting his spectacles, he cleared his throat.

"My Lord Marrable," he began in a gritty voice that oddly suited his gruff looks.  "Lord and Lady Pendergast, Lord and Lady Norland, Mr. Marrable, Mrs. Wynters, as you know by your requested presence here, Lady Gwendolyn has named you in the disposition of her personal holdings.  In keeping with my promise to Mrs. Wynters to expedite matters, let us begin." 

The milky-white paper crackled beneath his fingers as he removed it from the envelope and unfolded its creases.

"The document is dated May 9, 1882, four months prior to Lady Gwendolyn's death.  To my knowledge it is her most recent and last statement of her wishes."  He peered over the tops of his glasses at those seated before him.  "Unless anyone present is otherwise aware."

Majel eyed Vanessa with a hooded look.  "Mrs. Wynters would know better than any of us.  She rarely left Auntie's side and helped her conduct all her activities.  Or so I'm told."  Her lips slanted into a razor-thin smile.

Vanessa's stomach tightened to a thick knot, just as it had this morning in Knights Chapel when Majel baldly implied that she'd prevented Lady Gwen from returning to Sherringham.  Did she now suggest something more sinister?  Did Majel actually imagine she'd persuaded Lady Gwen to alter her will to benefit herself? 

Vanessa raised her chin.  "I know of no other will.  I didn't know of this one."

Majel lifted a brow of disbelief at that.  "You did accompany her to the solicitor's office on the date mentioned did you not?"

Vanessa met her gaze levelly, piqued by Majel's innuendos.  "Yes, of course, but I was not present in her meeting with Mr. Engle, nor was I aware of her purpose for seeing him that day.  She did not reveal it to me, nor did I expect her to do so."

Mr. Whitmore cleared the roughness noisily from his throat, gaining everyone's attention.  "Mrs. Wynters, did Lady Gwendolyn have occasion to seek legal consul again after May ninth?"

"To my knowledge, no."

"Then, unless proven otherwise, this document stands as her last will.  Now, let us begin."  He adjusted his spectacles once more then commenced reading.

"'I, Gwendolyn Alicen Marrable of Royal Sherringham in Herefordshire, England, daughter of the late Right Honorable Talbot Marrable, sister to the late Right Honorable Lionel Marrable, and aunt to the Right Honorable Adrian Marrable, current and fifteenth viscount of that line, being of sound and disposing mind and memory do hereby declare this to be my Final Will and Testament.

"'Being a woman born to privilege, but having remained a maiden lady throughout my life, I own no great private wealth.  That is to say, I hold no lands or properties of which to dispose, my person having ever relied upon the munificence of the Marrable men for my support, first, upon that of my father, next my brother, and finally, my nephew, all viscounts of the House of Marrable.  I am compelled to add in regard to all three, their generosity rose high above duty and for that I am endlessly grateful.'"

The corners of Vanessa's mouth lifted in a smile.  She'd encountered many a grand lady too stingy of heart to offer even a modicum of gratitude when due.  Lady Gwendolyn, however, had always been unsparing in her appreciation and praise.  It was but one of her endearing qualities.

Mr. Whitmore continued, his growly voice providing a curious contrast to the feminine tone of the words he read from the page.

"'I do leave a number of personal possessions of value and herein set forth my wishes for their disbursements.  First, to my nephews and nieces, Adrian, Lawrence, Majel, and Cecilia, fondly known as Cissy, I leave you first and foremost my love which you ever enjoyed in life—during your growing years, and those more mature, and of late, during my prolonged absence and travels.  Be assured my love continues to flow to you, for I believe such things are possible.  Death is no barrier to strong felt emotions such as love."

Lady Gwen's sentiments did not surprise Vanessa.  She knew Lady Gwen believed unfalteringly in life in the Hereafter.  She also believed that the earthly and spiritual planes coexisted, and that souls could easily transcend them should passions or purpose move them to such, and if the Almighty allowed it. 

Mr. Whitmore rumbled on.  "'Of a more tangible nature, there is the matter of my personal apparel including my garments and varied accessories that include shoes, hats, purses, gloves, fans, muffs, parasols, and the like.  I do exclude, however, my jewelry from this particular bequest.  Still, these habiliments are of significant value, and I have considered their disbursal at some length.

"'I am mindful that both my nephews are well situated but without wives, and that both my nieces are also well situated with husbands who can amply afford for them. 

"'Therefore, recognizing that my relations have no identifiable need for my personal apparel, I do instruct that my garments, those for indoors and outdoors wear, and all my accessories, exclusive of my jewelry, be sold in their entirety and that the proceeds be distributed to the fund established by my nephew, Adrian, Lord Marrable, to provide for the widows and orphans of the coalminers working the Marrable mines.  Sustaining them in their need is the least we Marrables can do as the mines have been the basis of our family's wealth for the past century.'"

Vanessa glanced to the viscount, surprised a second time this day by the man.  In the same instant, Majel thrust to her feet. 

"But there are furs!" she cried.  "Full-length mantles and coats of sable and chinchilla.  And there are gowns by Worth and costly trimmings.  Surely she does not mean to include the furs, or for the clothes to be sold with their embellishments.'"

Mr. Whitmore pursed his lips as he stared at Majel.  "Lady Gwendolyn specifies the garments, 'those for indoors
and
outdoors wear,' are to be 'sold in their entirety.'"

"But there are edgings of marten and fox, rain fringe of jet.  And what of the silk shawls from Egypt and their embroideries?  They could all be reworked."

Mr. Whitmore removed his spectacles, his eyes fired with impatience.  "The sale will be open to all.  Might I suggest your ladyship purchase what pieces interest you at that time and thus make a generous contribution to the widows and orphans fund?"

At Mr. Whitmore's suggestion, Majel went rigid but behind the desk Adrian Marrable broke into a wide grin.  The sight of that dazzling smile, slashing his features, nearly caused Vanessa's heart to stop.

"Whitmore, you've earned your entire year's retainer this day."  The viscount chuckled. 

Vanessa blinked at that.  The man actually chuckled.  The others stared at him too, as if it were a singular event.  Excepting Majel, who glared daggers at her brother. 

He settled deeper into the leather chair, his smile settling into a pleasant line.  "I concur and intend to hearten all attending the sale to be most liberal in their purchases and offer top coin."

As his smile lingered, Vanessa felt something inexplicable stir deep inside her.  She strove to ignore it, not wishing to place a name to it.

All seriousness, Mr. Whitmore replaced his glasses and straightened his papers.  "Where were we?"  He scanned the page for his place. 

"'As to the disbursal of my jewelry, I have ever considered myself fortunate to possess a fine collection.  For the most part, the pieces were inherited through my mother and through her maternal line.  My collection also contains a number of prime items that I confess, somewhat blushingly, were gifts from admirers over the years.'"

A soft rumble of laughter rolled through the group.

"'In contemplating the dispersal of my jewels, I am again reminded of my nephews' marital status and of my nieces' positions.'"

Majel shot to her feet once more.  "She cannot mean to leave her jewels to the orphans too!  Or to the
widows
."  She swiveled in place, shooting a white-hot look at Vanessa.

From the corner of her eyes, Vanessa glimpsed the viscount's gaze boring into her.  Lord help her.  Lady Gwen couldn't have left
her
all her jewels.  At least, she hoped not.  It would then most certainly appear she'd manipulated her elderly employer and taken complete advantage of her. 

Vanessa sought to calm herself.  Perhaps it was merely the mention of her widowed status that netted the viscount's interest.  She doubted it, yet her marital status had not been specified during the luncheon, only that she was a Mrs. rather than a Miss.  The conversation had then veered to another topic, as she remembered. 

Could Lord Marrable have assumed her to be still married, abandoning a husband for some outrageous reason to trail over Britain and the Continent with his aunt?  She dismissed the thought as preposterous, her reasoning strained.

Mr. Whitmore again cleared his throat.  "Lady Pendergast, if I might continue—“

"Do sit down, sister," Cissy pleaded, turning to Majel.  "We must finish or Vanessa will miss her train."

"And what a pity that would be," Majel snipped, reseating herself.

Mr. Whitmore skimmed the page, then leafed to the next.  "Ah, yes.  Here, Lady Gwendolyn becomes personal in her address once more.  It reads as follows: 

"'Adrian, you are heir to the family's famed jewels, bestowed upon the Viscounts Marrable through our famous, and rather infamous, ancestral relation, Leonine Marrable, mistress to Charles II.  It is my hope you will recover them in time to come, if you have not done so in fact already.  Their loss is a loss to all Marrables as it has ever been the special treasure about which we Marrables are most fond of boasting, however scandalously they were acquired.'"