The Alchemist's Key (2 page)

T
he title of Baron held by the Ashby family was a feudal title, a territorial honour which passed with the ownership of the lands to which it was attached.

‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Hugh commented.

‘What is?’ Wade appealed. He didn’t understand any of it.

‘Your title is not attached to a seat in the House of Lords,’ Hugh explained. ‘For a minute there, I thought the realm might really be in trouble.’

Wade didn’t even react to the dig. He was too busy worrying about what other scary surprises might be attached to the inheritance. ‘So what is expected of me, exactly?’

‘We won’t know for sure until the will has been read,’ Giles advised.

‘I’m going to change my flight.’ Hugh patted Wade’s shoulder to reassure him. ‘I have some time to spare before first term commences, and it sounds like you could use an adviser.’

‘Yes,’ was all Wade could say, his frown causing great ridges in his forehead.

‘Don’t look so worried.’ Hugh made light of his friend’s predicament. ‘All it means, most likely, is that you’ve inherited some property and a big wad of cash.’

‘There is a family business, also,’ Giles conveyed, as Hugh dug the phone out from under the pile of mail on the table.

This worried Hugh. Wade couldn’t hold down a job, let alone run a company.

‘What kind of business?’ Wade beat Hugh to the question.

‘Horse racing, so I believe.’

The announcement transformed Wade’s dread into elation. ‘Now there’s something I know about.’ He looked to Hugh to back him up on this point, to find him looking amazed.

‘How very fortunate,’ he stated, looking from Wade to Giles. ‘When it comes to thoroughbred horses, you could say that our young Baron-to-be here has an uncanny talent for picking a winner.’ Hugh shook his head, thinking the coincidence
ironic also. ‘You might just make a go of this, after all.’

With a smile and a nod, Wade quite agreed with him. ‘It certainly sounds like destiny to me.’

Destiny indeed
, considered Hugh, as his wish to entice Wade to England had been granted.

In addition to arranging Wade’s first-class flight to London, Hapwood, Baxter and Bentley had taken the liberty of accommodating him at an exclusive hotel close by their offices.

While Hugh and Wade gaped at the splendour of the suite, Giles advised that the will was to be read the following morning. ‘I shall be by to collect you at ten-thirty. Good evening, Hugh, Baron Ashby.’ He tipped his head to Wade and left.

As the door clicked closed, Hugh erupted into laughter. ‘First-class flight, chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce from the airport, and this suite! I am sticking with you, my friend.’ Wade had collapsed into a chair, and appeared not so amused.

Hugh quelled his own cheer to address the odd mood Wade had been entertaining ever since they’d left Sydney. ‘I find your reaction to good fortune highly peculiar.’

‘Do you, Hugh?’

‘Well, it’s not every day one stumbles into
nobility,’ he reasoned. ‘My father will be ecstatic about the event.’

‘But my father obviously wasn’t,’ Wade remarked, allowing his concerns to surface. ‘Why didn’t he ever mention this Baron business? Perhaps Mum’s health wasn’t the only reason he left England?’

Hugh bit down on his bottom lip as he pondered. ‘My guess is that your father expected to inherit the title long before you ever did. I’m sure he planned to tell you, but perhaps his untimely death prevented it.’

Wade raised himself to investigate the bar, and was pleased to find it well stocked. ‘But he can’t have been proud of the fact if he went to such lengths to keep it secret.’

Hugh took a seat on one of the bar stools, playing with the neat goatee beard sprouting from his chin. ‘If your father confided in anyone, it would have been my father. They were friends for almost eighteen years.’

The frown dispersed from Wade’s forehead for the first time all day, and he poured them both a shot of bourbon. ‘Well, let’s give him a call, courtesy of Hapwood, Baxter and Bentley, shall we?’

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Hugh lifted the receiver and dialled home.

The whole scenario was news to Damian Prescott, and Hugh had been right in saying that his father would be over the moon about the event. He swore Peter, Wade’s father, had never so much as even hinted at the fact.

‘Did he ever mention why he left England?’ Wade fished for clues.

‘Because of your mother’s health. The climate was no good for her, Wade, you know that.’

Wade’s mind accepted that this was his father’s true motive for the move, and yet his gut disagreed — it was all in knots. It was not like him to be so uptight, and he wondered if he might be experiencing some kind of after-shock, or plain old nerves. Or perhaps this was what jetlag felt like? So much had happened today and, having travelled halfway around the world, the day had been longer than usual.

‘Get some rest,’ advised Hugh, as Wade sat rubbing his weary eyes. ‘Tomorrow will bring a fresh perspective, and a few facts. You can’t do much without them, so forget it!’

Hugh was right, but he was also not the one in this weird predicament.

Wade wasn’t really into material possessions, apart from his computer and suchlike. This probably explained why he had no problem with
squandering his money. And now, some fool was going to make him responsible for the family fortune and title!

‘I can’t do this, Hugh,’ Wade announced.

‘Yes, you can,’ replied Hugh, who had already made himself comfortable in one of the suite’s two huge beds. ‘Just close your eyes and count backwards from one hundred.’

‘I meant —’

‘I know,’ Hugh broke in. ‘I also know that you’ve thought yourself brain dead. Not to mention the jetlag, the shock, the fact that you’ve had about four hours sleep in three days.’

‘All right!’ Wade stood to shake off his thoughts, then dived onto the spare bed. ‘I’ll drop it.’

‘Thank you,’ whined Hugh, rolling over. ‘Goodnight.’

Wade grabbed the closest pillow and tucked it under his head in a futile attempt to settle down to sleep. His thoughts again turned to tomorrow. He couldn’t help but wonder if his grandfather’s will would shed any light on his father’s decision to ignore his heritage.

Surprisingly enough, Wade did manage to get some shuteye. His usual confidence and humour had returned by morning, and he felt himself
more open to the possibilities that lay ahead of him this day.

He did his best to look presentable, meaning he dug out a pair of jeans that didn’t have any holes in them, and wore a shirt rather than a T-shirt under his long, black trenchcoat. His fine fair hair, which had not been cut in years, was tied back in a ponytail.

‘What do you think?’ he inquired of Hugh, who looked him up and down.

‘You’d best lose the earring,’ he advised, referring to the small silver marijuana leaf that hung from Wade’s left earlobe.

Wade reluctantly complied, though he resented not feeling free to be himself.

Hugh managed to look the part in his two-piece suit and woollen vest. His dark unruly curls, along with well-trimmed beard and moustache, gave him that lived-in look whilst making him appear older and more worldly than he truly was.

‘That will be Giles.’ Hugh moved to answer the knock at the door. ‘Are you ready, Baron Ashby?’

‘Hey, that will be Your Excellency, if you please,’ demanded Wade, in jest.

‘Uh, not until after the title has been signed over,’ Hugh informed him.

The legal company’s Rolls Royce awaited them at the hotel entrance, and it transported Wade’s party a good two blocks before it parked on the doorstep of the firm.

Wade climbed out of the Rolls, amused to discover he could still see their hotel. He then turned and looked up at the sandstone stairs of Hapwood, Baxter and Bently.

‘What! No red carpet,’ he joked for Hugh’s amusement, though the statement caught the attention of the two women who were scaling the stairs.

The older, more refined looking of the ladies wavered from her course to inquire: ‘Would this be the young Baron Ashby I have the pleasure of addressing?’

‘It certainly would be.’ Wade advised in a cocky though friendly fashion.

A large smile graced the woman’s face. ‘Your accent gave you away.’

‘Your Excellency,’ Giles intervened, before Wade was given the chance to offend the Contessa. ‘May I introduce Baron Wade Ashby, and his associate, Hugh Prescott. Gentlemen, this is the Contessa Selene Montagu.’

‘Am I bowing?’ Wade queried sideways to Hugh, as they climbed the stairs behind Giles.

‘Definitely,’ he advised in a whisper.

The Contessa, in her early fifties or thereabouts, seemed to find their banter amusing. She held out her hand to Wade as he neared her and he, on impulse, kissed it.

‘Just like your grandfather,’ she commented with delight. ‘Please allow me to introduce my assistant, Hannah Martin.’

The woman to whom the Contessa referred was barely more than a girl, and was a cross between a highly-paid secretary and a ballet dancer. ‘How do you do?’ She came forward and shook Hugh’s hand firmly. Then, taking a step back, she astutely bowed her head to Wade. ‘Baron Ashby.’

‘A pleasure.’ He found Hannah too snobbish for his taste. The Contessa was far more interesting. Wade had been immediately enthralled with her, which wasn’t hard, as she was beautiful despite her age. ‘Did you know my grandfather well?’

‘The Contessa and your grandfather had vested interests in a college for the performing arts,’ Giles interjected.

‘Yes. Thank you, Giles,’ the Contessa dismissed him, taking hold of Wade’s arm to escort Wade inside.

As they entered the large foyer of the building, a distinguished-looking gent was exiting with a young
lady, and he tipped his hat to the young Baron-to-be. ‘Baron Ashby.’ He nodded to acknowledge the new noble and his stately escort. ‘Contessa.’

Wade, wearing a dumbfounded expression turned and watched the couple exit out the front doors of the establishment. ‘What … am I wearing a sign? Who was that?’ He turned back to consult the Contessa, who was also watching the very polite gentleman disappear.

‘That’s the very odd thing, I have no idea.’ The Contessa smiled to herself, obviously finding the handsome stranger intriguing. ‘I shall have to do some snooping,’ she advised Wade, as they resumed their course. By the time they’d reached the partners’ offices, the Contessa had given Wade her pitch on the college and invited him to visit. ‘Your forefather’s have always been ardent supporters of the arts,’ she informed him. ‘I hope that the college can continue to rely on the generosity and patronage of the Ashby Family.’

Wade didn’t know what to say. He had no idea how much he was inheriting, nor could he be sure that the charming Contessa was telling him the truth. ‘I hope so, too,’ he told her with a smile.

After a brief pause, the Contessa gave a quiet chuckle and, patting Wade’s cheek affectionately, she turned and entered the room where the Will
was to be read. Not too sure what to make of her response, Wade looked to Hugh, who merely shrugged and motioned him to lead the way.

Aside from the partner handling the title claim and the Will, there was another small gathering of men in the room. They were all rather aged, except for one who looked to be in his early twenties.

Are they relatives?
Wade wondered, as the master of ceremonies came forward to introduce himself.

‘Lord Ashby. I am Robert Hapwood, the solicitor and nominated executor of your grandfather’s will. The Contessa you have already met. And these gentlemen,’ he referred to the group of men Wade was curious about, ‘were in the late Baron’s employ, and are present at his request.’

The most distinguished of the three old men came forward to address Wade.

‘Talbot Jenkins, at your service, my Lord.’ He bowed as much as his ageing back would allow. ‘I was butler to your grandfather for forty years, and he highly recommends me. He would also like to recommend the services of his chauffeur, my son, Andrew Jenkins.’ The young man in their party stepped forward and bowed. ‘Your
grandfather’s grounds-keeper, Dougal McMurry.’ Talbot motioned to a greying, redheaded man, who looked very fit for his age, and then to the little, round man remaining … ‘And your grandfather’s cook, Winston Hobbs.’

‘One meal, my Lord, and you shall never let me go.’ Winston bowed, rather confident of his abilities.

‘Well, I am very pleased to meet you all.’ Wade was a bit lost for words. ‘This is my friend, Hugh,’ he advised, whereby they all shook hands and were seated.

Although the Will did not yield up any reasons why his father had kept their ancestry and inheritance a secret, Wade did learn a thing or two about his family history.

The Ashby title stemmed from the pirate legends of the Elizabethan era. The Queen bestowed the title of Baron on William Ashby in 1580. It came with a ninety-nine year lease on forty acres of land in Oxfordshire that was equipped with a modestly-sized Hall and quarters.

The baronage was William’s reward for his outstanding seamanship on Sir Frances Drake’s flagship during Drake’s first circumnavigation of the globe. Queen Elizabeth extended the title lease
to nine hundred and ninety-nine years in 1597, when the young Baron Ashby was killed during a daring raid on a Spanish fleet assembling in Cadiz Harbour.

As only four hundred and eighteen of those years had expired, and there was no outstanding mortgages against the property, Robert Hapwood had seen to it that the will was declared valid.

‘I entrust the family leasehold estate,’ he read, ‘known as “Ashby Manor” at Ashbury in the county of Oxfordshire, along with the title of Baron thereunto attached, to my grandson, Wade Ashby, the sole and rightful heir.’

The solicitor went on to inform the Contessa about the endowment of a scholarship foundation for her college, which was additional to a very generous final donation from the late Lord Ashby.

Hapwood then advised of the sums of money set aside for the employees of Ashby Manor, Ashby Stables, and a considerable fee for Hapwood, Baxter and Bently, who were to continue to oversee the financial affairs of Ashby Holdings.