Five
1743 Words
Besides, he wanted his attention free to see exactly what happened to
her face when the truth hit home.
‘You have the papers…’
With a wave of his hand he indicated the folders that Hilton had placed
on the big leather-topped desk.
‘You’d better explain everything. Tell Miss Liza the position she’s in.’
Tell Miss Liza the position she’s in…
Liza had no idea just why those words hit home to her as hard as they
did. There was nothing in Edward’s tone to upset her. The way he spoke
was as casual and conversational as if he was simply passing the time of
day with a couple of friends. Nothing to worry her in that.
No—it was the fact that there seemed to be nothing to worry her in his
tone that set all her mental alarm bells ringing, bringing her warning
nerves to red alert in the space of a single heartbeat. From being an
intruder—a stranger who had turned up unannounced and uninvited to her
father’s funeral—he had slowly but surely morphed into someone who
was far too much at ease, far too much in control for her peace of mind.
From the moment that he had walked into the house he had gone his own
way, no matter what she said or did. He had been a dark, watchful
presence at the graveside, a silent, black-eyed observer at the reception
afterwards. He looked almost…
The word slithered away from her as Hilton seated himself at the desk
and shuffled through the files, picking one up and tapping it straight on the desktop, then clearing his throat carefully.
‘About Jety—your father’s will…’ he said.
‘There can’t be any problem with that.’
In spite of her determination not to, Liza found herself a chair and
sank down into it. Something in the way that Hilton spoke, the way he
looked at her over his reading glasses, suddenly took the strength from
her legs. It was either sit down—fast—or risk them giving way beneath
her and with Edward’s cold dark eyes fixed so closely on her face, she
was determined not to let that happen. At a time like this dignity was
important, and if keeping her dignity meant conceding just a little then
she was fine with that.
Jety had everything sorted out. He arranged everything just as he
wanted it.’
Why wasn’t Hilton nodding? He should be nodding, surely? Smiling and
nodding and saying that yes, that was right.
‘We came to see you two years ago—when I turned twenty-three—and he
said that he wanted to leave everything to me. Wasn’t that legal, then?’
The shock in her voice was as much from the memory of how she had felt
that day, made worse now by the worry and uncertainty about just what
was going on.
She had never actually believed that Jety would leave hereverything. They had always been close—her mother’s second husband, the only
father she had ever known—and the warmth between them had grown as
they’d clung together after Rea’s death in a train crash. And of
course he’d been there for her seven years ago, moving in to take action,
rescuing her from the repercussions of her foolishness, dealing with
things…Liza’s eyes slid to the dark, silent man in the other chair and
she shivered, just remembering when she’d come up against Edward all those years ago.
But she had always believed that there must be someone else who had a
far better right to, a far greater demand on the Jerry estate—distant
relatives, friends, charities—to whom he would bequeath his fortune
rather than to her.
Jety had assured her there was no one else. He had been an only child
of only children; any cousins, once twice or even three times removed,
had died long ago and he had no descendants of his own.
Fena could never have children,’ he’d told her in a sorrowful recollection
of his first marriage to a woman who had died of cancer at the early age
of thirty-five. ‘And by the time I met your mother we were both past
that. But you’ve been the daughter I always wanted. The only family I
need.’
He had known how much she loved the house, and the land that went with
it, he’d said. And he knew that she would care for it, look after it in just
the way he’d wanted. She would keep the farms running, be a fair
landlady to the tenants, and of course she had always adored the horses.
‘I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather leave it to. She’d been overwhelmed, overjoyed, and, knowing she could never thank
him, she had set herself instead to learn everything she could about the
estate, working with Jety so that she would know how to handle
everything when the time came. She had hoped to have so much longer to
do so. Liza had dreamed of maybe taking over the estate when Jety
retired, and neither of them had ever thought that the end would come
so soon.
The thought that she would be able to carry things on as her father
had wished had been the only consolation she had had when the sudden
heart attack had taken him when she had least expected it.
‘Yes, that was quite legal,’ Hilton assured her. ‘Then.’
‘Then?’
The single word, hastily added, snagged on a raw nerve and tugged. It
made her sit up straighter, a frown drawing her brows together, all her
attention focused on the man at the desk.
‘Did something happen? Did Jety change his will?’
Hilton shook his head. ‘He left everything just as it was. That was the
problem.’
‘The problem…Hilton, you’re going to have to explain this to me—it’s not
making any sense. Jety left everything to me—so what’s the problem?’
‘The problem is that by the time he died Jety didn’t have anything to leave—to you or to anyone else.’
‘He didn’t?’
Liza was having to struggle to try to understand just what Hilton
actually meant. His words sounded as if they were coming to her down a
long, echoing tunnel so that they rang distortedly in her head. And the
problem was desperately aggravated by her painful awareness of the way
that Edward was sitting silently still, observing everything.
It was as if he had a sharp wire attached to her, one that kept up a
constant, steady tug on every nerve, drawing her attention to him. It was
a tug she fought to resist. She was having a hard enough time coping with
just what Hilton was telling her. If she looked into Edward’s face, read
what he was thinking there, then she would go to pieces at once. She just
knew it.
And so she forced herself to keep her face turned towards the lawyer,
praying that Edward could read nothing of her mood, or her fears, from
the profile she presented to him.
‘Just what are you saying?’
‘That over the last year—eighteen months—Jety started to gamble.’
‘He always liked a flutter on the horses!’ Liza exclaimed. ‘It was the
only hobby he had. He…’
Her voice failed her as she met Hilton’s eyes, saw the expression on his face.
‘This wasn’t any sort of hobby, Liza,’ the lawyer told her sombrely and
a cold hand squeezed her heart, stilling her completely. ‘And it wasn’t
anything like the way he’d been betting before. He started betting more
money than he’d ever done—more than was wise. At first he won, so I
suppose that made him bet more and more. But then apparently he
started losing—and he’d bet more to try to win back his losses.’
Oh, Jety! Liza had known that something was troubling her
father. He’d changed, lost weight, started smoking again when he’d
given up years before as a promise to Rea. Liza had tried to get
him to talk but he’d always dismissed her concerns. Told her she was
worrying unnecessarily. And she had to admit that, caught up with her
romance with Jack and the excitement of his proposal, just lately she’d
been preoccupied and hadn’t seen as much as she should have done.
‘How bad did it get?’
Did she have to ask? Didn’t she know the answer from the gravity of
Hilton’s tone, the look in his eyes?
‘The worst. He lost everything—he would have had to move out, leave
Manorfield for good, if someone hadn’t stepped in and bailed him out.’
‘Who?’
Liza winced as she heard the way her voice croaked, the break in the
middle of the short word. Again, did she have to ask? The cruel hand that
had been squeezing her heart suddenly gave it a vicious, painful wrench as she felt rather than saw the sudden change in the attitude of the other
man in the room and glimpsed out of the corner of her eye the way he
straightened in his chair, uncrossed his legs.
‘Who bailed him out?’
‘I did.’
The answer came from Liza as she had known it must. The terrible
dark sense of inevitability that had reached out and enfolded her ever
since Hilton had begun the story had deepened and tightened around
her neck, it seemed, threatening to strangle her as it closed off all the
air from her lungs. There could be no other possible answer really. No
other reason why he was here and why Hilton had treated him with such
courtesy, such respect.
It took an effort to turn her head and face him, to look straight at him
when she had spent the last minutes desperately trying to do the exact
opposite. She dreaded what she would see in his face, the triumph there
must be in his eyes.
But in fact all she could see was a dark, opaque shadow, no features, no
details visible at all. The late afternoon sun had actually come out so that
Edward was just a black figure silhouetted against the huge bay window
with its leaded panes.
‘What did you do?’
- Writer
