Shades of the Past (6 page)

Famed jewels?  Charles II's mistress?  Vanessa found this a fascinating revelation.  But they had slipped from the viscount's possession somehow.  She saw now that his smile had vanished, his look darkening once more.

"'But I digress’"—Mr. Whitmore read on—"'Adrian, your personal wealth allows you to purchase whatever gems you wish, should you have the inclination or again take a wife.  You have no need for my trifles.  Therefore, I leave you but one item from my own collection, one by which to remember me. 

"'Knowing your love of history and antiquities, I have chosen a seal ring, once belonging to one of the minor maharajahs of Jaipur a century ago.  You will see it is set with an oval sapphire which has been carved in a flowing script with the maharajah's name.  When you look on it, remember the woman who enjoyed a zest and passion for life.  I would that your own passions be reborn. 

"'Presumably, if this paper is open to your eyes, then I am dead, so I will be perfectly frank and say what needs to be said.  Let go the pains of the past, Adrian.  Before your great-grandfather changed the Marrable motto, the older one read
Virescit vulnere virtus.
  Courage grows strong at a wound.  So does love.'"

Mr. Whitmore fell silent as Lord Marrable rose and moved to the window.  Vanessa could sense the barriers thickening about him as he gave his back to all in the room and stood looking out onto the gardens and lawns.  Lady Gwen had touched upon an unspeakable topic, the same one hinted at earlier in Knights Chapel.  It was obviously bound up with Lord Marrable's wives, either one or both. 

Vanessa suddenly wished she were already on her train, headed for Hampshire.  She was an outsider here and shouldn't be privy to such personal matters.

Mr. Whitmore reached into his jacket and withdrew a small, velvet-covered box.  He pondered Lord Marrable's back, obviously uncertain whether to disturb him.  Cissy, owning no such reticence, sprang to her feet and accepted the box for her brother.  As she opened it, Vanessa spied a flash of bright gold and the deep blue of the sapphire.

"How marvelously thoughtful of Aunt Gwen."  Cissy's voice sparkled as she moved to the viscount's side.  "Look, Adrian.  Have you ever seen a ring so fine?"

Lord Marrable took the box and, briefly, he and Cissy spoke in low tones.  A moment later, he turned and reseated himself, his features shuttered.  Once Cissy settled herself, he gestured for Mr. Whitmore to continue.

"Y-Yes."  Mr. Whitmore fumbled his spectacles back in place on the bridge of his nose.  "The next passage is directed to Mr. Lawrence Marrable.  It reads as follows: 

"'Lawrence, I am mindful of your own wide interests.  In particular, I am mindful of your love of beauty, extravagance, and also, shall we say, of your unbridled generosity toward the ladies.’” 

Lawrence shifted self-consciously in his seat.

"'These words are intended with your best interest at heart, so again I will be frank.  I encourage you to employ restraint in your life, to rule over your impulses.  It is precisely because of those impulses, sometimes given to excessive and, in certain cases, undeserved magnanimity, I fear you might allow portions of my small though precious collection to trickle to others outside the family.

"'Thus, Lawrence, knowing you are well able to provide for any lady who draws your interest, I leave you also with a single, but carefully chosen, memento by which to remember me.  In this case, a cameo, its profile carved of my own likeness at the workshops outside the ruins of Pompeii.'"

Vanessa recalled the trip, recalled stumbling onto the place after visiting the ancient city and the cameo being carved.

"'I have had it fashioned into a stickpin of purest gold and set with a small diamond.  When you look on it, remember a woman whose own impulses led to varying consequences, but who loved greatly in this life, loved you most dearly, and would see you set your world aright.'"

Aware Lawrence might feel some embarrassment at the moment, Vanessa kept her gaze from him as he received the velvet-boxed gift from Mr. Whitmore.  Evidently, Lawrence's proclivities had met with Lady Gwen's disapproval.  He was an attractive man who doubtless had many lady admirers and who appreciated their beauty as well.  She conceded to not having been wholly unaffected herself when she first met him.  He was an engaging man with golden good looks.  And yet . . .

Dare she admit it?  Lawrence paled from thought when his brother, Adrian, appeared.  It seemed unfair, congenial Lawrence overshadowed by his dark, unapproachable brother.

Mr. Whitmore returned to the desk and, after taking a sip of water from a glass on a small silver tray there, he took up the will once more.

"The message now turns to the ladies," he announced.

Majel shifted forward in her chair, sending a confident glance to Cissy. 

"'Majel and Cissy, again I will be plain.  You both enjoy coffers heaped with jewelry.  Majel, you wait with your husband for an expected inheritance.  When the time of your father-in-law's passing occurs, you will rise in status higher than your own brother, being elevated to the rank of countess.  Though you do not wish your father-in-law ill, I am sure, I know you look forward with great anticipation to that day.  At that time, you will have access to the Pendergast jewels and though not to compare with the Marrable jewels, I understand they would leave most women breathless.'"

Majel held her head high, sliding a superior look to her brother Adrian.

"'My dear Cissy, your husband spoils you with countless baubles.  It is plain to see he adores you, though personally I encourage him, like Lawrence, to exercise more restraint lest he soon exhaust his fortune on your account.  You know I say this with love, for to enjoy a husband's devotion and generosity is in itself a priceless gift.

"'Therefore, carefully considering all this, and also respecting that many of the jewels in my collection are family heirlooms, owning sentimental as well as actual value, it is my wish for them to be passed down through the female line, ensuring they stay within the family.  I hereby bequeath them to you, my nieces, Majel and Cissy, to be divided equally and equitably between you.  I encourage you to continue this tradition and pass the pieces on through your own daughters and your daughters’ daughters, keeping them within the bloodline.'"

Majel expelled a breath, obviously relieved.  As her gaze sliced to Cissy, Vanessa felt sorry for the younger woman.  The disposition of Lady Gwendolyn's jewels was far from settled.

Mr. Whitmore informed the sisters the jewelry was being kept in Lord Marrable's safe and asked that they wait until after the reading before taking possession of it.

"Lady Gwendolyn's will now turns to Mrs. Wynters," Mr. Whitmore informed.

Vanessa dropped her gaze to her lap as the others directed their attention her way.

"'As you are all well aware, for over twenty-five years I have experimented with photography.  It is a passion and a pursuit that I have enjoyed immensely and for which I have spared little expense.  To date, there are literally hundreds, if not a thousand or more, of my photographs stored at Sherringham.  These I leave to my nephews and nieces jointly and appoint Adrian to oversee any and all final decisions concerning their fate.  Divide them as you please, or keep them together in a single collection, as you will, but do enjoy them.

"As regards my photographic equipment and supplies, however, these, in their entireties, I bequeath with great joy and satisfaction to my dear friend and companion, Mrs. Vanessa Wynters."

Vanessa's jaw dropped, her gaze flying to the solicitor.  "In their entireties?"

"Why?"  Majel leaned forward of her chair to better view Vanessa.  "Is any of it valuable?"

"Majel, do shut up!" Lawrence clipped out, his tone sharp with impatience.  "Mr. Whitmore, proceed."

"Yes, here we are.  Oh, and yes to you Mrs. Wynters. All photographic equipment and supplies 'in their entireties' are bequeathed to you.  Now, I'll begin where I left off.

"'My dear Vanessa, you possess an innate talent, which in only two years' time is already impressive and still reaching toward its full potential.  I realize that my death will consequently result in your lack of employment.  As you are widowed and have little family on which to rely, you will necessarily feel forced to seek a new position elsewhere.’"

Vanessa kept her gaze fastened on the solicitor, aware of the others’ directed at her.  Oddly, she felt the weight of the viscount's gaze most of all.

"’Vanessa, do not.  Do not seek another position, I pray you.  Instead, I encourage you to be daring, to take a chance—on life and on yourself.  You are a first rate photographer with an excellent eye, as they say.  Pursue your gift, my dear.  Develop your skills to your fullest potential. 

"'To help you to that end, I have written letters of introduction to some of the leading studios in London.  Their owners are long acquaintances of mine.  Hopefully, you will gain entrance there, if that is your wish.  Another possibility you might consider is to assemble your photographs from our journeys and collect them into a book for publication.  Picture travelogues are all the passion these days and should bring you a tidy sum.

"'You must find your own way, Vanessa, create your own special niche in the field.  This will not be easy.  It is difficult for a woman to support herself, even in these enlightened times.  Still, I encourage you to attempt to establish yourself in photography.  With that in mind, I call upon my nephew, Adrian, to lend his assistance.'"

Vanessa's gaze leaped to Lord Marrable's and found surprise equal to her own in their depths.

"'Adrian, it is my wish for you to be in fact, Mrs. Wynters' benefactor, temporarily at least, by assigning to her whatever remains in my accounts of my personal annual allowance.

"'In closing, I encourage you, my dear nephews and nieces, to watch over one another.  Marrable blood is strong and constant and binds you together always.

"'And now I do close, content in the knowledge that as you read these words I will have taken up my long rest and sleep at Royal Sherringham.'"

Everyone sat silent as Mr. Whitmore placed Lady Gwendolyn's will on the desk, open for all to review.  He then delivered into Vanessa's hands a neat stack of letters tied with a blue satin ribbon.

One by one, those in the room began to rise from their chairs.  Lord Marrable remained seated, however, giving his attention to a slim ledger he'd withdrawn from a drawer.  At the same time, he bid the solicitor to his side.

"So, Vanessa, what will you do?"  Lawrence smiled, offering her a hand as she rose to her feet.

"I'm not sure.  There is so much to think on.  I imagine I'll have time enough to sort it out in Hampshire." 

She glanced to Mr. Whitmore who bent to examine something in the viscount's book and then straightened and offered some comment.

Vanessa turned back to Lawrence.  "Excuse me.  I should arrange for the equipment and supplies to be sent on.  I really must hurry if I am to catch my train."

Vanessa moved to stand before the wide desk and waited for Mr. Whitmore to conclude his conversation with the viscount.  When he did, the viscount made a notation in his book that caused the solicitor's brows to rise.  The men's eyes then turned to her in unison.  She took a self-conscious swallow, but before she could open her mouth to make her request, Mr. Whitmore began to speak.

"Mrs. Wynters, on reviewing Lady Gwendolyn's account, Lord Marrable has noted that, it now being September, only one-fifth of the funds allotted his aunt annually now remain.  They are deposited the first of each December, you see, which coincides with the anniversary of the late viscount's death and the establishment of the fund."

"Yes, of course.  I understand."  Vanessa's heart sank a little.  Not that she hoped for a great sum, but establishing herself in the field of photography would take time and be costly.  There was, also, no guarantee she would find entrance into the London studios to help sustain her. 

For one brief moment she'd dared entertain the thought of following Lady Gwen's advice.  But she didn't see how it would be remotely possible to do so.

"However," Mr. Whitmore continued, "Lord Marrable, in assuming you wish to pursue your photographic endeavors, desires you have funds enough to carry you for an entire year.  Therefore, he proposes to provide you the
full
annual amount, if you decide to follow that course, that is."

"What?" Majel shrieked from where she now stood, several yards away.

Vanessa ignored the woman's protests, turning widened eyes to Adrian Marrable.  She couldn't seem to get her voice to leave her throat.

"I—I don't understand," she managed at last. 

"Lord Marrable means to quintuple this figure."  The solicitor scribbled numbers on a slip of paper and laid it on the desk before her.

Vanessa gasped aloud at the sum staring back.  "Oh, but he can't!"

"No, surely he can't!"  Majel rushed forward, intent on viewing the figure for herself.  But Lord Marrable stayed her with a hard, layered look. 

Slowly he rose from his chair and stood to full height. 

"I believe I can do as I please," he said without the trace of a smile, pinning his sister with an icy gaze.  "I am, after all, viscount and Master of Sherringham."