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“Yes, I am aware of where Rutland is,” Mr Kibble mumbled.
A frown started to crinkle his brow.
“I should like to get back there as quickly as possible,” Tahlia prompted when the solicitor stared down at his papers.
He appeared to be unable to comprehend why someone would want to live in such a place as Rutland.
“There is no stipulation in the will that requires me to keep my uncle’s house for a ridiculous period of time, is there?” she asked when the solicitor didn’t speak.
“What? Oh, no, nothing like that at all,” he assured her. “I can, of course, make the necessary arrangements for its sale should you wish?”
“My uncle was fond of London, Mr Kibble, but it was his home,” Tahlia replied, softening her stance slightly. “It is not my home, and I have no wish to make it so. I cannot keep a property like that here, and have no intention of renting it. It needs to be owned by someone who will look after it in the manner to which my uncle would have approved.”
Mr Kibble nodded. “I see. Well, if that is your wish then that is what we shall do.”
“I intend to select the items in the house I wish to keep, but the remainder will need to be sold. The proceeds can be forwarded to me in Rutland. Are you able to recommend someone who might be able to deal with that?” She asked.
Tahlia wondered if Mr Kibble was a man to sulk. Something seemed to have put him out of sorts. His behaviour upon hearing her news had swiftly turned a tad unprofessional. However, he was a solicitor, nothing more. There was certainly no earthly reason why he should object to her selling her uncle’s house, or she should care if he did.
“I shall, of cou
rse, pay the necessary fees should you be willing to act on my behalf?” Tahlia prompted when he didn’t answer her.
Mr Kibble then seemed to realise she was there and peered up at her.
“Of course we will act on your behalf,” he replied. Before her very eyes he seemed to collect himself. Drawing in a deep breath, he nodded and returned to being professional again.
“Thank you,” she replied primly, inwardly relieved at his acceptance.
Another problem solved, she thought with relief.
“We can oversee that for you,” he pierced her with a hard stare over the top of his spectacles. “At a cost of course.”
“Of course,” Tahlia replied, uncaring what that cost was as long as she didn’t have to stay in London a moment longer than she absolutely had to.
Money was no object now she had all of her uncle’s not insignificant wealth. She would pay the solicitor whatever she had to if it meant getting out of London faster.
“Well, if you can sign these papers to transfer the property over to you for now. I will then arrange for the necessary papers to be drawn up that will allow me to act on your behalf with regards to the sale. You will need to come back to sign those. They should be ready for you tomorrow. Would that be agreeable to you?”
Tahlia nodded energetically. “Of course, I am grateful for your assistance. You do have my address to forward your bill to me in due course?”
Mr Kibble nodded and began to rifle through the pages once more. When he didn’t remove one, she decided to prompt him.
“My uncle has informed me that he left me a note with you. It is some sort of correspondence he wished to remain secure?”
“Yes, of course.” Without hesitation he then selected a folded note, closed with a seal, and handed it to her. “He instructed me to give you this on the day the house is signed over to you. He said that he wished it to remain safe and could we hold it for you? Of course, I agreed.” He slowly opened a drawer in the desk beside him and withdrew a single key attached to a small piece of wood. “He didn’t tell me what the key is for but he asked me to give you this with it. Maybe the instructions are in his letter. Now, let’s sign this paperwork.”
Somewhat mollified and confused in equal measure, Tahlia nodded slowly and studied the familiar scrawl of her uncle’s handwriting. She was burning with curiosity but daren’t open it. She was afraid to take even a quick peek inside until she was in the quiet privacy of her uncle’s study. Clutching the key in her hand she studied it. It was large and ornate, the kind of thing in popular use a century ago. Now, it felt big and cumbersome. It was so large it barely fit into her purse, but she managed to squeeze it in beside the letter and close the clasp. Setting her bag in her lap, she then forced her attention to the papers Mr Kibble was explaining to her.
She hoped she could get out of there sometime soon, preferably before she sneezed again.
Half an hour later, armed with several rolls of parchment, the mysterious key, and the letter from her uncle, Tahlia took her leave of the solicitor. Once on the pavement she paused and handed Cecily the parchment.
“Well, I would like to say that I am glad to be out of there, but now I am not so sure,” Cecily muttered as she studied shifting shapes in the smog.
“We have what we need now so let’s get back to the house,” Tahlia suggested, unsurprised when Cecily threw her a relieved look.
“How do we hail a carriage in this?” Cecily asked with a frown.
