Page 16 of The Inheritance At Bourton

Rowan found parking near the church. St. Mary's sat at the top of a slight hill, with old stone, stained glass, and a cemetery that looked like it predated most of the buildings around it. They walked up the path together. Rowan took her hand. Leah felt the weight of the moment settling over her shoulders.

The parish office sat off to the side, a small addition that looked newer than the rest of the building.

Rowan pushed the door open and gestured for Leah to go in.

Chapter Seven

The parish office was small and overheated. A woman sat behind a desk near the window, silver-haired and wearing thick glasses. She looked up when they came in and smiled.

"Good morning," she said. "What can I do for you?"

Leah had rehearsed it in the truck, but the words still came out tangled. She gave the woman her parents’ names and waited.

The woman didn't ask why, and Leah was grateful. She just folded her hands on the desk. "Ellsworth. That's a Bourton name."

"Yes. Bourton-on-the-Water. That's where I'm from." The words came out before Leah could even think about it. She felt Rowan glance at her. That's where I'm from. She'd never said that before. But it felt right.

The woman stood and pushed her chair back. "The registers from that period are in the vestry. Take a seat. This may take a few minutes."

She disappeared through a door behind the desk. Leah sat in one of the two chairs arranged against the wall and immediately stood up again. She couldn't sit.

Rowan leaned against the edge of the desk and watched her pace.

"If it's not here—" she started.

"It's here."

"You don't know that."

"No," he agreed. "But Edith knew your father. And everything I ever knew about your father says she’s right. He would have done the job properly."

"Properly is a relative term in my family,” she snorted.

He smiled at that, and she almost smiled back. The door opened, and the woman came out carrying a heavy bound volume in red leather. Leah's entire body went still.

The woman set it on the desk. "Let's have a look."

She put on her reading glasses and opened the register. The pages made a soft, thick sound as she turned them. Leah watched her finger move down the columns, month by month, and tried to breathe normally. January. February. March. The finger kept moving.

"Ah," the woman said.

The finger stopped.

"Here we are." She turned the register around on the desk so they could see. "Marriage solemnized at St. Mary's, Cheltenham. William Ellsworth, of Bourton-on-the-Water. And Sandra." Her mother's maiden name sat there in faded brown ink, written in a stranger's careful hand.

She stared at the two names on the page.

It was recorded in the parish register. There was no question about it. It was as legal as any marriage in England.

The woman behind the desk cleared her throat gently. "I can make you a certified copy of the entry. Your solicitor will want to request the official certificate from the Register Office as well, but I can get you a copy for today."

"Yes," Leah said. "Please. Thank you."

It took ten minutes. Leah spent them sitting in the chair by the wall with Rowan's hand resting on her shoulder, watching the rain streak the little window.

The estate was hers.

There was no question. There had never been a question. There was only a bluff, dressed up in legal language, designed to frighten a woman Madeline Hargrove had assumed would be easily intimidated. Leah was not her mother. All those years of barely surviving had made her tough. She learned not to back down.