“I read now from your father’s own words: ‘Since my son, Garth William, has unexpectedly preceded me in death, I direct my will to my two daughters. Each of my surviving children are to be given a yearly allowance of two hundred pounds until their twenty-first birthday, whereupon it is assumed that by that time they will have married or have the estate in order and the shipping lines financially functioning. My surviving children are to make Wistmere their home and share in its maintenance. I expect that my daughters will not follow the examples set for them: that May-Jewel will not seek to follow her mother’s choice of work and will instead live her life in a more acceptable manner; and that Katherine, unlike her mother, will seek the world. And whereas each child has not known of the other until the reading of my will, I expect them to love one another as I have loved them. If for any reason my last wishes cannot be carried out, I leave the final dispensation of my worldly goods to my loyal friend, Neal Jameson and my partner, Alexander Fleming…’” Neal suddenly became silent and read the concluding lines to himself. The rustling of one of the woman’s dress as she shifted about in the chair brought his attention back to them.
“Signed this day of our Lord… etcetera, etcetera,” he ended.
Katherine listened with downcast eyes, purposely avoiding contact with those around her. As I have loved them, she repeated to herself. Propriety had denied her his love, and now, as if to make everything right, he has left her the cold ruins of his manor!
Mr. Jameson rearranged the papers in his hands again. “These are Robert’s last wishes, and I am to see that certain actions are to be carried out. But you yourselves will be in charge of what civility there is to be between you. As of now, you are bound together by an inheritance. It is expected that you both will stay at the manor Wistmere until I come for your signatures on the first distribution of monies within a few weeks. If at that time, either of you want to disclaim any or all of the estate, then I will see to your wishes.” He placed a paper on the desk before each of them. “I’ll need your signatures on these attesting to the fact that I have read you the will and informed you of Robert’s wishes. It will also enable me to release a small portion of money to each of you at this time.” He rose and called Harry back into the room to witness their signatures.
Handing a pen to each of the women, Neal waited for them to sign. He watched as May-Jewel instantly signed her name with a bold, flowery signature, smiling broadly at what, he was sure, she considered her first accomplishment as an heiress. He saw that Katherine St. Pierre hesitated.
Unsure if this was what she wanted, but looking up at the faces before her, Katherine quickly signed her name with a petite and concise signature.
The solicitor opened the office’s safe and withdrew two packets of money. Handing one to each of the women, he said, “I have arranged for your transportation to Wistmere. Give your addresses to Harry and a carriage will be at your places of lodging between eight and nine tomorrow morning. Alexander Fleming, Robert’s - your father’s partner will meet you at the manor. He will see to your comforts and your needs.” Then he added as if to anticipate their thoughts, “Yes, you must travel there together, and… may Godspeed.”
The two women stood on the steps outside the building. A torrent of emotions and thoughts jostled each mind for release, but neither one spoke. Not looking at her new ‘sister’, Mistress Belwood walked away, deciding that the inevitable confrontation between them, that surely had to come, would wait until another time. She disappeared into the throng of people. The moisture in the air refreshed her face as she stepped lightly down the walk. Her happiness over the inheritance surged through her.
“An heiress,” she declared, “I’m an heiress! And I own land, and a manor, and ships, and people.” Smiling as if the whole of Edinburgh should know, May-Jewel whispered her new title, ‘Mistress of Wistmere’ over and over to herself.
Joy was not beating in Katherine’s heart, however, nor was there a smile on her rigid face as she solemnly hailed a carriage. Happiness should have filled her, but instead her throat felt painfully constricted. Seeking solace in the coach’s darkened interior, she leaned against its hard walls and vented the anger within her.
“So, Sir Craig, you made me an heiress. An heiress of what? Of stone and wood? Of ships and slaves? Of money and jewels? What good are these to me now? Will this great fortune create a place for me in society? Shall I go to Wistmere because you decreed it?” Her shrill voice, filled with blistering hostility, ricocheted throughout the carriage. She fought to hold back the tears that brimmed her eyes. She didn’t want to be the Mistress of Wistmere.
Chapter Three
The driver, his back humped with age, halted the carriage and squinted at the half exposed form lying by the roadside. “What be this that interrupts old Charles’ journey?” he muttered to himself. “Be ye animal or human?”
He got down and with unsteady steps made his way through the mud. As he approached, he could distinguish the form and its dress, realizing it was a woman.
“What happen to ye? Were ye set upon by thieves?” Turning her over, he saw a smaller form beneath. “Oh, good Lord!” With a shaky hand, he made the form of the cross.
He knew
