The Scarlet Wench (24 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Think kindly of me, and send out good thoughts.”

Charles: Act
III
, Scene 2

Monday, 16th April

11:42 AM

Declan roared off to Kendal for the last time, watching his speed but letting the MGB out when he could, enjoying the throaty purr of the engine. Today the sky was an impossible shade of blue he’d never noticed before. And those clouds had to be the whitest and puffiest he’d ever seen. A few reports to look over and sign off on, and he would be back with Nora by this afternoon. Depending on the length of her meeting with the solicitor, they might have time to drive to Brantwood, Ruskin’s house by Coniston Water. There was that silk dress and the dinner he’d promised her they’d never made it to last night—and after that, they still had another night alone ahead of them.

  Last night, his muscles had felt as tight as piano wire. His blood had sung in his veins as he and Nora had explored each other and given of themselves, all reticence gone as they became more comfortable together. It had felt like a huge wave engulfed them, sucking them down into the undertow, only to throw them up high against the sand, gasping for breath.

  They’d dozed and then surfaced after midnight when they couldn’t ignore their empty stomachs any longer. Nora had gathered a tray of Maeve’s olives and cheeses while he’d taken bread, two glasses and a bottle of wine back to her room.

  He shook his head as he slowed for a lorry to turn off. Talk about nights to remember. He turned on the radio, and when Joe Cocker came on singing “You Can Leave Your Hat On,” he turned the radio up loud and opened the windows to feel the wind in his face.

*

1:48 PM

Nora waved to Maeve and Simon, who were heading for a walk around the bay with Darby on leash. They’d used the sunny day as an excuse, but she suspected they’d timed their stroll to give her privacy with the solicitor. As she paced the length of the patio, she wished Declan were with her. The furniture was back in place, and she could almost make herself believe Saturday night was a fantasy. She sat down and traced the condensation on the pitcher of lemonade she’d brought out.

  She’d looked up “Declan” online after he’d left for Kendal and found it meant “full of goodness.” Nora would tease him about that tonight, but it suited him. Her writer’s nature tried to put words to last night. Certainly she’d felt adored, and the world they’d created between them felt fresh. There had been laughter, too, and a sense of easiness. She’d woken this morning feeling peaceful and—dare she think it—serene.

  Her mood contrasted sharply with how things had been with Paul, when there had been flashes of happiness that weren’t sustained. She wouldn’t dwell on that now. If she hadn’t been with Paul, there would be no Sean, and she knew if Paul were here, she would tell him she would always be grateful to him for her son.

  A sleek, grey sedan turned into the drive. Sunlight glinted off the winged
B
on its bonnet as the majestic Bentley drove into the parking lot. A pricey solicitor, then. Nora walked through the drawing room and stood at the door, her stomach roiling.

  A middle-aged man came around the corner, carrying a black briefcase in the same soft leather as his shoes. Wire-rimmed glasses gave him a studious look. Despite the long drive, Kemp’s bespoke, navy-pinstripe suit looked fresh. A deep-blue shirt with crisp white collar and cuffs brought out the light-blue eyes Nora could distinguish as he approached her and held out his hand. She’d bet anything his cuffs were monogrammed.

  “Daniel Kemp, Miss Tierney. Good to meet you.” His handshake was firm and businesslike. He stepped into the lodge and took a moment to admire the original wainscoting and period details.

  “I thought we’d sit outside if that’s all right.” Nora led him through the drawing room and onto the patio. If he wondered about the haphazard furniture piled into corners and the stacks of chairs and packed boxes, he kept silent as he followed her outside.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Nora pointed to the lemonade as they took their seats.

  “No, thanks. Mrs. Kemp and I started early and had an excellent lunch at Morecambe on the bay.” He placed his briefcase on the glass-topped table and snapped it open. “I dropped her off at the Belsfield, as you suggested, and will meet her for tea. Lovely place, thank you for suggesting it.” He looked out at the lake vista. “Quite a view here, too. What a beautiful day.”

  “Yes, it is.” She felt her stomach flipping. He must have no idea what had happened at the lodge recently, and she wasn’t about to inform him. She watched him pull out a file and a silver fountain pen, which he laid across the folder.

  “I had a call from Muriel yesterday, very excited to hear she has a grandson.”

  Nora nodded woodenly. Would he ever get to the point? She saw his thoughtful expression and waited for him to rebuke her for not getting in touch with the Pembrokes sooner.

  “Of course, that changes things on a certain level, but I’m certain Muriel and Harvey will rise to the occasion as needed.” He pulled a square cloth from his pocket and removed his glasses, giving them a thorough cleaning and Nora a cheerful smile.

  “It does?” Nora found her voice. “Mr. Kemp, perhaps you could explain. I have no idea why you’re here.”

  Kemp replaced his glasses and gave her a look over the rims. “Muriel didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Kemp opened his folder. “Just like Muriel, making me earn my fee.” He chuckled.

  Nora’s mouth dried up while Kemp ordered his papers to his satisfaction. He finally turned to her.

  “I did tell you on the phone that the Pembrokes are settling Paul’s estate?”

  “Yes, but how does that apply to me?” Nora had the sudden desire to throttle the man.

  Kemp pursed his mouth. “You really have no idea, Miss Tierney? Paul never mentioned anything to you?”

  Nora shook her head. “I’m lost.”

  The solicitor slapped the folder closed and explained. “Muriel and Harvey Pembroke own Port Enys, a Grade
I
-listed estate on the Cornish coast. As Paul was their only child, your son is his heir, and at some future time will inherit the house and grounds.”

  Nora’s mouth gaped open. And here she’d thought the Pembrokes were sheep farmers. She snapped it shut and sat back in her chair.

  “Still, Harvey and Muriel are in rather good shape, so that’s far down the road, I expect.” He reopened the folder. “In the meantime, my original purpose in coming here is because Paul made you beneficiary of his life insurance policy.”

  Nora sat forward, eyes widening. “He never told me any of this.”

  Kemp pulled out a document. “Let’s see. The face amount is for one and a half, but taking into account the manner of Paul’s tragic death, the double indemnity clause kicks in, so that brings the value to a nice round three.”

  “Three thousand?” She’d start a college fund for Sean right away.

  “Three million.” He looked up, and Nora saw him register the shock on her face.

  “That’s British pounds sterling, not euros, of course.”

  “But—but that’s—” Nora sputtered. “—that has to be over four million U.S. dollars!”

  Kemp consulted his notes. “
$4,966,890
in dollars, to be exact. At today’s rate.”

  Nora’s head swam as her heart hammered in her ears.

  He peered at her over his glasses. “Modest, but enough to allow you to set up a trust for your son’s school fees and such and still have a nice, tidy sum to live on.” He shuffled his papers. “I understand Paul didn’t know of your pregnancy at the time of his death.”

  “Neither did I.” The man seriously thought this sum modest? What kind of circles did he run in? It was all too much to take in. Nora took several deep breaths, afraid of passing out.

  “Too bad. He might have included a rider for any progeny.” Kemp shrugged. “Still, if you put a portion aside for your son in trust and it’s properly invested now, you’ll find it helpful. But I’m quite sure Harvey and Muriel will be prepared to cover any slack when he comes of university age.”

  “Mr. Kemp, I’m overwhelmed.” Nora wiped nervous sweat from her brow. Her hands were clammy, and her lips tingled. “I wasn’t prepared for anything like this.”

  Kemp jumped up. “Oh dear, sorry to have shocked you.” He grabbed a glass and poured her a lemonade. “Sip this. I’m not
very good with fainting women.” He handed her the glass with a wide smile and patted her back. “You’ll adjust, Miss Tierney.”

*

2:35 PM

The papers were signed with Mr. Kemp’s silver fountain pen. He left Nora his card and told her he’d be in touch when the funds were released. In the meantime, he suggested she find herself a competent financial planner. She heard words like “Swiss accounts,” and he dropped several names, but she couldn’t take it all in, and he said he’d put the information in an email for her to review.

  Nora sat alone on the patio and contemplated how her life had changed yet again, this time with the flash of a pricey pen.

  She wouldn’t have to rush out and find work and leave Sean any time soon if she invested correctly. That meant she could raise him and keep working on her children’s books. Kate and Ian might want to expand their rooms and use her suite in the near future. She had funds to use for where she wanted to be planted, and she could choose now where that would be.

  But it went beyond her situation. There was Sean’s future to consider, although as Kemp had said, that was for “down the road.” She had legal issues to explore, too. If she decided to move back to America, how would that affect things? Could she use this money to give her security without letting it change her? She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that in a few months’ time, by most people’s reckoning, she’d be wealthy.

  The unreal feeling passed, but she had so many things to decide in the upcoming weeks and months. She didn’t want this windfall to change how people viewed her, either. What would her friends think? How would her American family feel?

  Declan’s MGB roared up the driveway, and Nora stood, relieved to have him back. Then she had a different thought: How would he react to this news? Would he view her differently? She’d best wait to digest this all for herself, take time to let it sink in and see how she was going to handle it.

  Nora met Declan in the hallway, and he swooped her into his arms and raised her off her feet, just the way Grayson Lange had done a week earlier.

  “How’s my girl?” His face lit with his smile creasing the corner of his eyes.

  Nora liked being called his girl. She hugged him tightly.

  He put her down. “How was the solicitor?”

  “Interesting. Very nice.” The next words just fell from her mouth. “Apparently I’m to have money from Paul’s estate.”

  “Wonderful! That should take the pressure off you.” Declan drew her to him. “How about that drive I promised you?”

  “Let me get a jacket and my phone.” Nora escaped down the hall before he could see her reddened face.

  Why did she lie? All right, she hadn’t straight-out lied, but she’d not been honest. She needed to know where this relationship with Declan would lead. She wanted him to love her for herself, not an inheritance. She chided herself for even thinking that. But what if her money became an issue between them? A detective inspector’s salary might be livable, but it wouldn’t come near her new funds. She argued with herself all the way to her bedroom and back.

  Nora felt like a tornado had run over her and flattened her out. Her leg stung and reminded her of the past week; she reeled from Daniel Kemp’s news. And she offered a silent prayer to Paul, who had not only left her his child but the means to care for him. He must have loved her more than she’d known. How sad. But how wonderful, too.

  It was reasonable to absorb this news before she shared it with anyone else. Nora pushed Daniel Kemp and his shiny pen into a neat compartment. Tonight was for Declan.

  “All set?” Declan held her hand as they walked in the sunshine to his car. “Maybe over dinner if you wear that slinky dress I’ll convince you to think about moving back to Oxford down the road.” He winked at her as he opened her door.

  “Maybe.” She tried to match his mood. “You never know what I may have up my sleeve.”

Acknowledgments

Ramsey Lodge and The Scarlet Wench Pub as well as all of my characters are pure fiction, but they live in a real and glorious part of Cumbria, on the west coast of England’s largest lake, Windermere. The entire county forms the Lake District National Park, and for centuries its beauty has engaged nature lovers, writers, artists, fishermen and boaters. I have tried to describe the lakeside and St Martin’s Church in the village of Bowness-on-Windermere, and even Westmorland General Hospital, as accurately as possible. And yes, The World of Beatrix Potter does exist. Just ask Bowness resident Evelyn Blatchley, who told me which flowers would bloom in April. There is a real Helen Mochrie, but she lives in Australia and is a wonderful mum and gran. Any errors are entirely my own.

  Despite my familiarity with the area, along with copious notes and photographs, setting a novel in a different country represents a distinct challenge. To that end, I wish to sincerely thank the following:

  In the United Kingdom:

  Steve Sharpe, retired Cumbrian South Lakes police officer, was my resource for all things Cumbrian, from the weather to policing and where the mortuary is located in Kendal. His help has been invaluable, and I owe him more than a few pints at a real pub one day.

  Averil Freeth and Helen Hood read the manuscript in draft and helped plump up all things British, from customs to language. They pointed out which of my Golden Age colloquial expressions were outmoded and gave me correct slang or “Britspeak” to bring me into modern times. Enormous thanks to both sterling ladies.

  My mentor, P. D. James, and Joyce McLennan offered me advice, friendship and a lovely afternoon tea.