Page 35

In a turmoil of thoughts, Madeleine and Dot entered the Lockhart house to general commotion. Moss, the butler, greeted them with a glum face and Madeleine could hear Lady Lockhart’s stentorian tones haranguing her son upstairs in the drawing room. Dot scurried off to the kitchens and Madeleine went to her room to remove her pelisse and bonnet. She gazed quickly at her face in the looking glass and was surprised how pale she appeared. She felt suddenly weary; how much she needed rest and recoiled from embroilment in another family drama. However, she had to present herself to her aunt and cousins, oppressed by a sense of dread at what calamity had arrived at their door.

Henrietta met her on the first-floor landing and grabbed her arm with some force. ‘Oh, there you are! Mama’s been looking for you.’ She pushed her roughly into the drawing room.

Lady Lockhart turned from her son to address her. ‘Madeleine, you’re never here when you’re needed,’ she said in her usual abrupt way, but her harsh, handsome face had blurred round the edges, and she continued in a softer voice, ‘Your grandmother died last night. I think you were the last person, outside her servants, to see her.’

Three sets of eyes of varying degrees of hostility were upon her as if she had somehow hastened her grandmother’s demise. Madeleine’s heart shrank, unwilling to endure any more shocks. Her grandmother was dead. The one member of her remaining family who had been interested in her and shown her any affection. Memories tumbled unbidden; she was grateful to have seen her so recently, and how pleased she was to have impulsively kissed her on the cheek in farewell. The old Lady Lockhart could be forbidding and was not a demonstrative woman, but for once Madeleine had acted on her own instinct, instead of waiting for a cheek or hand to be proffered.

With a deep breath, she replied, ‘I was reading to her, as usual, ’tis true,’ tears springing to her eyes.

‘Well, did you notice anything amiss?’ her aunt demanded quickly, as if any show of emotion was to be avoided.

‘She was no frailer than usual. I read Pope to her as I always did. She had a little tea but did not wish to eat. Nothing out of the ordinary.’

‘Did you speak of anything other than Pope?’ Edwin Lockhart’s eyes were less unfriendly than either his mother’s or sister’s.

‘No,’ Madeleine said, lying. She was not about to tell them all that she had blurted out to her grandmother that she loved a man who was going to marry another. The old lady’s response had been pragmatic, you did not have to be married to a man to share your love with him. Although surprising to Madeleine, she knew Lady Lockhart was a Georgian and hers was a more libertine age. ‘We talked only of the weather and the new fashion in monstrous large Leghorn bonnets, which Grandmama thought would cause a hazard on the narrow pavements of Bond Street.’

‘Was she pleased with the pineapple?’ Edwin Lockhart asked with an anxious edge to his voice.

‘She was. She asked Cook to cut it up and said she would have some later. She specifically said how thoughtful of you, Edwin.’

Lady Lockhart seemed impatient with her son’s line of questioning and broke in. ‘Well, her lawyer, Mr Croft, wants to see us in an hour’s time to read the will. I don’t know why he should think this necessary. It’s obvious Edwin is his grandmother’s heir and there will be some jewellery, no doubt, for you girls.’ She sighed in an exasperated way. ‘But he’s a lawyer and insists we should be here. So, Madeleine, no more drifting off on some vague errand or other.’ With that, she rose majestically from her seat and stalked out of the room.

Henrietta followed Madeleine into her bedroom and closed the door. She sat on the bed. ‘Maddie, Grandmama has some beautiful jewellery. I’ve always wanted her tiara and the rubies and diamonds. If she leaves any of those to you, can we exchange?’

Madeleine was struck that she was the only member of Grandmama’s closest family to mourn her passing. Her servants probably felt more emotion than Aunt Lucinda and her children who would be the main beneficiaries. ‘I only care about anything for its association with her. I’d love the pearl earrings she always wore.’

‘But they aren’t worth much at all.’

‘I know, but they remind me of her and will when I wear them.’

Henrietta shuddered. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to wear them. I don’t like the thought of them being threaded through her wrinkly old earlobes.’

‘Oh Hen!’ Madeleine gasped, shocked at her cousin’s contempt and lack of feeling.

Henrietta climbed off the bed, her pretty face cross. ‘Well, promise me, Maddie, that if you get her tiara or the diamonds or rubies, I can have them.’

‘Let’s wait and see. She’s barely cold and I miss her. I hope she didn’t suffer.’

‘Maddie, you’re so over-imaginative. How do we know what she felt. The doctor said she died in her sleep, of old age.’

‘I hope so. I enjoyed my visits to her and when I lived in her house as a child, she was kind to me, and for that I’m grateful.’

Miss Lockhart was already at the door when she turned and smiled. ‘Well, I’ll see you in the drawing room when Mr Croft arrives.’

After the extraordinary events of the day, Madeleine was so tired, she longed to climb into bed, but there was barely an hour before the family had to gather again. With a sigh, she extracted her notebook and began to write. The next instalment was so exciting, her fatigue was forgotten as her quill sped over the paper. Having a murderous French count turn up uninvited, at the hero’s house, intent on revenge, seemed almost too preposterous for fiction. To be carrying two loaded duelling pistols, ready to kidnap the young English milord who had seduced his wife, was beyond belief, yet it was true and she had been witness to it. Madeleine thought, with some wonder, that even the strangest fiction became less strange when compared to her own experience. It was hard to know where her story ended and real life began.

Madeleine slipped her book back under her mattress and climbed the stairs to wait with the family for the arrival of Mr Croft. A young man with a waxy face was ushered into the room by Moss. He was sweating slightly as his eyes flickered over the assembled party. He bowed. ‘Good evening, Lady Lockhart.’ And nodded at the young Lockharts and Miss Rose. He sat in the chair allocated to him and before he opened his case, he said, ‘Firstly, may I offer my condolences? The Dowager Lady Lockhart was a remarkable woman I was privileged to serve.’

‘Yes, yes.’ Lady Lockhart was impatient. ‘We thank you for that. Can we proceed with what I presume is just a formality?’

Mr Croft’s perspiring face grew paler. He extracted a handwritten document from his case and began to read. ‘This is my last will and testament.’ Mr Croft looked up. ‘I drew this document up for Lady Lockhart one month ago.’ He bent his head and continued to read. ‘To my granddaughter, Miss Henrietta Lockhart, I leave all my jewellery, apart from the Lockhart pearls and my diamond ring. These I leave to my granddaughter, Miss Madeleine Rose.’

Again, Mr Croft looked up and paused for dramatic effect. ‘We now move to the major part of Lady Lockhart’s legacy, which perhaps is a bit unusual, but it is exactly how her ladyship wished to proceed.’ This made everyone in the room sit up, anxious at what was to come. The lawyer continued to read in a tone that had become sonorous and full of portent; after all he was dealing with the disposal of a significant ancestral estate. ‘To my grandson Edwin, Lord Lockhart, I leave my prime horses. I trust he will look after them well, together with all the carriages with his crest on the doors.’

Edwin looked pleased. His grandmother’s bloodstock was fine indeed, but as she’d aged, she had lost interest in her racing programme. He would revive that. But as the lawyer’s voice droned on, the young lord’s manner grew anxious and sullen, then finally he was silent with shock.

The neutral voice continued. ‘However, the young Lord Lockhart has already inherited his father’s fortune, inherited itself from my husband, the Baron Lockhart, on his death. I think Edwin Lockhart has sufficiency of funds to live as a lord might. I therefore turn to my other granddaughter, Miss Madeleine Rose. She has had the misfortune of being deprived of her parents at a young age and having no one to protect her, and no means to ensure a quality of life suitable to her birth. It is to her that I leave the bulk of my estate; the land and house at Great Cheney in the county of Berkshire and the remains of the twenty-year lease on my house in Albemarle Street. My bailiff, Jack Stafford, knows of this and will continue to run the estate for her, as he has done for me.’