171. The Marquis Wins (The Eternal Collection) Page 3

  “Did you stay in the house or were you taken back to your school?” he asked.

  “I wanted to stay with Papa and pray that he – would now be with – Mama,” Daniela replied simply, “but my stepmother – insisted that I should go – back with – the Mother Superior.”

  The Marquis thought that was the first sensible thing he had heard about Madame Blanc.

  Then he asked,

  “But I imagine that your father was buried in England? Why did you not return there for the funeral?”

  “That is just what I am – going to – explain,” Daniela responded. “It was – of course what I – intended to do, but before arrangements were made, my stepmother sent a message to the Convent to say that I was to – come to Paris – as Papa’s Solicitors were arriving from England.”

  As she went on talking, the Marquis was aware that in her mind she could see it all happening again.

  The Mother Superior had hastily bought her a black gown and she had been driven to the house in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré accompanied by Sister Teresa one of the senior nuns.

  When she arrived, she had been greeted by her stepmother dressed in black, but in a very different style from what she was wearing herself.

  Esmé Seabrooke’s gown had obviously been made by one of the great French couturiers and was not only extremely elegant but gave no impression of mourning.

  With her face made up as it had been when Daniela had first seen her and wearing a profusion of jewels, she looked more like an actress than a widow.

  She dismissed Sister Teresa in what Daniela thought was a rather rude fashion into one of the small sitting rooms and took her stepdaughter into the salon.

  “Now listen, Daniela,” she began. “I have arranged for your father’s Solicitors who arrived in Paris last night to come here today to inform us of the contents of his will.”

  “You must not be surprised,” her stepmother continued, “that, immediately after we were married, I saw to it that your father made a new will with generous provision for me as his wife.”

  Daniela lifted her chin.

  “I am sure,” she murmured, “that Papa will have done what is right and just.”

  “He certainly had to be just to me,” her stepmother said sharply. “After all a man has to provide for his wife and I told your father exactly what I expected.”

  She spoke in a hard voice.

  Daniela knew without being told that her stepmother was resenting that, as her father’s child, she should have any of his money and wanted it all for herself.

  A terrifying question came to her mind.

  Had this woman persuaded her father to make a will in which she was included?

  Had this woman who had married him when he was under the influence of a drug, deliberately been instrumental in involving him in the duel in which he had died?

  Daniela was intelligent enough to be sure that this was the explanation or something very near it.

  But as it was something that she could not prove there was no point in making a scene.

  She could only pray that her father had left her enough money so that she would not be beholden to her stepmother.

  She had already decided, and had talked it over with the Mother Superior, that she would return to England at the end of the term to be with her relations.

  In fact the Mother Superior had said,

  “If when you go over for the funeral, dear child, they ask you to stay, I think it would be best if you did not come back to the Convent.”

  Daniela looked slightly surprised and the Mother Superior had gone on,

  “I know that your grandparents are alive and I am certain if you talk to your grandmother that she will think it best for you to be at home with your own people.”

  Daniela was then aware that the Mother Superior was saying this because she disapproved so strongly of her stepmother.

  In fact she thought it would be a mistake for her to have any contact with Lady Seabrooke, as she might do if she was still at school.

  “I will certainly talk it over with Grandmama when I reach England, Reverend Mother,” she replied, “and I suppose that Papa’s funeral will take place in a few days’ time.”

  “I am sure that his Lordship’s Solicitors will arrange everything and you can put yourself in their hands,” the Mother Superior answered.

  As she was driven to Paris, Daniela was hoping that her stepmother would make some excuse not to come to England.

  She was well aware how shocked her relatives would be if they saw her.

  She could not bear to think of their astonishment that her father should have married anyone who was so obviously the exact opposite to everything her mother had been.

  Yet it was quite clear from the way her stepmother had just spoken to her in the salon that she intended to grasp every penny she could of her father’s fortune.

  Daniela could only pray fervently that she would not be successful.

  When the English Solicitors arrived, both elderly men, Daniela remembered meeting them before.

  They greeted her respectfully and looked, she thought, with surprise at her stepmother.

  “It is with the deepest regret,” Mr. Meadowfield said to Daniela, “that I learned of your father’s death and I can only extend to you my most sincere condolences and also those of my partner.”

  “Thank – you,” Daniela murmured.

  “I have asked you here this morning,” Lady Seabrooke interrupted, “not only to arrange for my husband’s body to be taken back to England to be buried in the family vault but also so that I can learn the contents of his will.”

  “I have already seen Monsieur Descourt, my Lady,” Mr. Meadowfield replied, “and he should be here at any moment. As you already know, his Lordship had his last will and testament drawn up by Monsieur Descourt, who represents my firm in Paris.”

  “I am aware of that,” Lady Seabrooke said sharply, “and Monsieur Descourt has also told me that my husband is to be buried in England and not, as would have been much more convenient, in Paris.”

  The way she spoke told Daniela that her stepmother had already visited Monsieur Descourt with the intention of finding out the terms of her father’s will.

  She would not otherwise have been aware that for generations the Brooke family had been buried in the Church on the estate.

  There could be no question of her father’s body not being taken to England.

  Almost as if she was saying it aloud, Daniela was aware that Lady Seabrooke was resenting the time that she thought was being wasted by the Solicitors coming to Paris.

  She also resented the delay before she could learn what was in the will.

  At that moment the door opened and a servant announced,

  “Monsieur Descourt.”

  He too was an elderly man and to Daniela’s relief he seemed as respectable and reliable as Mr. Meadowfield and his partner.

  She had been afraid from the way her stepmother had spoken that she might have persuaded her father to go to some crooked Solicitor, a man she could bribe to change his will after he had made it.

  But Daniela knew by the hostile way that Lady Seabrooke greeted the newcomer that he had not been persuaded to do what she desired.

  It was then that Mr. Meadowfield took charge.

  “I understand, my Lady, from Monsieur Descourt,” he said coldly, “that you wish to hear the will of your late husband. It is usual in England to wait until after the funeral.”

  “That is certainly unnecessary,” Lady Seabrooke replied sharply, “as the funeral is to be in England.”

  “My partner and I have agreed to your request, my Lady,” Mr. Meadowfield went on. “We shall take his Lordship’s body back with us tomorrow and have made all the arrangements for when we arrive in England.”

  “Yes, yes, I am sure that you have been most competent in that respect,” Lady Seabrooke said. “So now let’s hear the will that my husband made two days before he died.”


  She looked at Daniela as she spoke, as if she was afraid that she might make some observation.

  Clasping her fingers together to maintain her self-control Daniela said nothing.

  She was aware, however, that the Solicitors as they seated themselves were all shocked at the way her stepmother was behaving.

  Mr. Meadowfield opened a briefcase, which contained a number of papers.

  “I have here,” he began, “a copy of the will his Lordship made before he left England.”

  “That is obviously invalid now!” Lady Seabrooke piped up sharply.

  “I am aware of that, My Lady,” Mr. Meadowfield replied. “At the same time there are certain clauses that I understand from Monsieur Descourt are included in the new will and would be of interest to Miss Brooke.”

  “I am, of course, deeply interested in anything that concerns me and my home,” Daniela said.

  While she was speaking to Mr. Meadowfield, Monsieur Descourt had opened his briefcase and brought out a document that was obviously a will.

  He adjusted his spectacles and then, in what was good English but with a heavy accent, he started to read aloud.

  “The Last Will and Testament of Arthur Henry James Brooke, fifth Baron Seabrooke.”

  It was all in difficult, ponderous legal language, which Daniela felt that her stepmother might find hard to understand.

  But, when Monsieur Descourt had finished, she gave a shrill scream.

  There was no doubt that she had understood the will and it was not what she had expected.

  Lord Seabrooke had left his new wife a thousand pounds a year until she remarried, in which case she was to receive two hundred pounds.

  Everything else was, as in his previous will, left in trust to his only daughter, Daniela.

  This included his house and estates in the country, a house in London, his horses at Newmarket and everything else he possessed.

  The lease of the house in Paris that he had taken for a year could be extended at the request of his wife and the rent would be paid by the Solicitors.

  They were, however, to be liable for nothing except the rent, and any other expenses were his wife’s entire responsibility.

  The scene her stepmother made was to Daniela both degrading and upsetting.

  Lady Seabrooke screamed at Monsieur Descourt, asserting that he had not carried out her husband’s instructions.

  That he had been told to leave her a large capital sum of money besides a yearly allowance of ten thousand pounds.

  She would, she threatened, take him to Court and accuse him of fraud.

  She raged and screamed hysterically both in French and English for at least ten minutes.

  Then Mr. Meadowfield in a firm tone told her that there was nothing she could do but accept the one thousand pounds a year.

  It was in fact generous, he pointed out, as she had been married for only such a short time.

  The rent of the house she was now in would be paid for as long as she wished to stay there.

  “What about the bills my husband already owes?” Lady Seabrooke asked when she could speak a little more sensibly.

  “Anything his Lordship owes up to the time of his death will be paid,” Monsieur Descourt replied.

  “Including my clothes and my jewels?” Lady Seabrooke enquired.

  “Everything, my Lady, which is dated previous to the day on which his Lordship died.”

  There was a little pause before Monsieur Descourt added,

  “I have in fact already been in touch with those shops I knew your Ladyship patronised and the bills that are unpaid are now in my possession.”

  Lady Seabrooke gave an audible gasp.

  Daniela was aware that she had intended to produce quickly very much larger bills than those already incurred and to make certain that they were paid for out of her husband’s estate.

  She knew from the expressions on the faces of the three Solicitors that they had anticipated that her stepmother would cheat and try to obtain every penny she could, however crooked.

  “You have no right to have done that!” she screamed at Monsieur Descourt in French and cursed him for five minutes without repeating herself.

  Having been abused so rudely he shut his briefcase and rose to his feet.

  “This is quite unnecessary, madame,” he said, “and you will not be able to alter one word of his Lordship’s will.”

  The Solicitors had then taken their leave.

  When they had gone, Lady Seabrooke went on screaming at the way she had been treated, abusing not only the Solicitors but her late husband as well.

  Daniela was also anxious to leave and she said quietly,

  “I am sorry that this has happened, but you will understand that, as Papa had so many obligations in England, he would want me to look after the people he employed and the house which has always been my home.”

  She thought that she was speaking in a conciliatory manner.

  Then, when her stepmother was about to rage at her again, she saw her eyes narrow as if another idea had come into her mind.

  “Of course you are right, dear child,” she said in a very different tone of voice, “but I am sure that you will be kind and generous, now that you realise how fond your father was of me and how happy I made him.”

  This, Daniela knew, was a lie, but she did not wish to make things worse than they were already.

  “I think what we must talk about,” she said, “is the journey to England. Will you be coming with me?”

  For the moment her stepmother stared at her as if it was something that she had not thought about.

  Then she said,

  “Yes, yes of course. How could I allow your father to be buried without my being there?”

  Daniela longed to say that it would be a mistake, but instead she replied,

  “If we are leaving tomorrow morning, shall I send a carriage to the school to fetch my belongings? They are already packed, but I did not bring them with me in case you would not let me stay here tonight. ”

  “Of course you must stay,” Lady Seabrooke said. “There are so many things that we have to discuss and we will have dinner quietly together. I expect we shall have to get up early to catch the train to Calais.”

  She then left Daniela to tell Sister Teresa what had been arranged.

  The carriage had taken the nun back to St. Cloud to return two hours later with Daniela’s luggage.

  After Daniela had said ‘goodbye’ to Sister Teresa, she had gone upstairs to tidy herself for luncheon, but when she came down she found that her stepmother had gone out.

  It seemed a strange thing to do when she had been so insistent that she wished to talk to her.

  Alone she went to her father’s room to pray by his coffin.

  It had already been closed down, but there were, she found, some flowers lying on top of it and lit candles on each side.

  She had knelt and prayed for a long time before leaving the room to find his valet waiting for her outside.

  Hudson had been with her father for many years and had known her mother and Daniela was therefore very glad to see him.

  She knew that the little man would be upset and she was not surprised when there were tears in his eyes as he moaned,

  “This be terrible, Miss Daniela. Terrible! I can’t ’elp thinkin’ it’s all a nightmare, and we’ll wake up to find the Master’s ’ere, as ’e’s always been.”

  “I feel like that too,” Daniela told him. “When we get back to England, we must try to do all the things he would want us to do.”

  “It’ll never be the same without ’im,” Hudson said pathetically and Daniela totally agreed with him.

  They talked about England and Daniela realised that Hudson knew more about what was happening at home than she did.

  “When ’is Lordship comes out ’ere,” Hudson said, “he asked your Aunt Mary to stay in the ’ouse, and I’ve ’eard from Mrs. Field, the ’ousekeeper, that everything’s just as it was when ’er Ladysh
ip was alive.”

  “That is what I hoped,” Daniela murmured.

  “Your aunt’ll look after you till you gets married,” Hudson remarked.

  ‘And that will not be for a long time,’ Daniela thought to herself, although she did not say so aloud.

  While her stepmother had been ranting and raving at Monsieur Descourt, Mr. Meadowfield had put her father’s previous will in her hand and pointed to one particular paragraph.

  She had read it and it confirmed for her in detail what Monsieur Descourt had just read out.

  She was to receive an allowance of two thousand pounds a year until she married.

  Then when she reached twenty-five or was married, the whole of his estate would be hers.

  The Solicitors, who were also the Trustees, were empowered to buy anything extra she desired, like horses, carriages, a house or to pay for journeys outside England.

  She had read it through hastily, realising that her father had been very generous to her.

  She knew that her Aunt Mary, her father’s younger sister, who was a widow, would doubtless be prepared to stay indefinitely in her home and chaperone her.

  She was very fond of her aunt and in a way it would be like having a little of her father with her.

  She thought too that, when she was out of mourning, either her aunt or her grandmother who lived in London would present her at Court to Queen Victoria.

  Because her mother would have wished it, she would take part in the Season as a rather belated debutante. This was what her father had planned should happen this year when the Easter term was finished.

  Even though he was married, she was sure that he would have taken her back to England, but now she would be mourning for a long time.

  However, she knew that she would be happy with her horses.

  Yet every room in the house would remind her of her father and mother and how happy they had all been together.

  ‘I have to be sensible about this,’ Daniela told herself a little later in the evening.

  There was still no sign of her stepmother and she had gone again to her father’s bedroom to kneel beside his coffin.

  ‘How could you have – left me, Papa?’ she asked beneath her breath. ‘How could you have – gone away so – unexpectedly when there were so – many things that we might – have done together?’