“Mrs. Southerlands,” Gwinnie softly responded.
“Ah, yes. My apologies, Lady Guinevere. I should have realized the woman helping Mrs. Southerlands was incognito, and I have gone and spoiled that,” Mr. Hargate said. He crossed his hands atop each other on his knee as he straightened.
“It’s all right if Bella knows.” She turned to Bella. “I help young women—primarily young girls from the country who have had a misfortune—to better themselves. I help them read and do their numbers so they might get positions in genteel retail establishments, or as maids. A duke’s daughter would render some tongue-tied. I needed to have them be comfortable working with me. They know me as Sarah Knolls.”
“That’s wonderful!” Bella enthused. “How did you come to that?”
Gwinnie smiled. “Through thedourEarl of Soothcoor,” she said. “That is what people call him, as he seldom smiles. He is quite involved with the charities in the city.”
“And farther afield,” Mr. Hargate said. “I assist him with some of the legal paperwork for his charitable interests,” he explained.
“But I beg your pardon. We are off the subject of your visit, Lady Blessingame. We should discuss the codicil to your late husband’s will.”
“Yes, and why wait two years to contact me?”
“That, my dear lady, was part of the terms of the will and its codicil. But that is my father’s work, so we should hear from him. Father?” Richard Hargate said, turning toward his father.
Mr. Hargate senior rose from behind the desk. Standing, he was taller than Bella thought, judging by his hunched position when he sat at the desk. He turned to a dark, aged pinewood lawyer’s cabinet behind him, the top a series of cubbyholes stuffed with papers bound with string. He pulled forward one or two packets of papers until he found the one he wanted. Untying the string that bound them, he sat at his desk again, unfolding the pages.
He resettled his glasses farther up on his nose. “Most unusual request; however, we have followed his instructions,” he said, his voice raspy. He cleared his throat. “Lady Blessingame, what was listed in the original will you received was not the full extent of your inheritance from Sir Harry Blessingame. I was quite perturbed when he came to me. He acted like a man who did not expect to live long. When I protested that attitude, he forestalled me and merely said the work he did was dangerous, but vital, and he was a realist. I’d hoped, naturally, that he was wrong concerning his life expectancy; however, I followed his instructions.”
“When did he come to you?” Bella asked.
“The week before you wed. He had everything planned out.”
Bella and Gwinnie exchanged glances.
“Please continue, Mr. Hargate,” Bella said.
“You have a house in Richmond.”
“A house?”
“Yes. I gather at one time it was the abode of Sir Harry’s female associates.”
“His mistresses,” Bella clarified.
“Er, yes. He’d arranged for the end of the last of those associations and wanted the property rented until two years after his death.”
“Two years after his death?”
“Yes, those were part of his instructions. Then the house was to be emptied of all existing furnishings, chimneys swept, and the house modernized as needed.”
“Modernized in what way?” Bella asked.
“We had a coal chute installed to make coal delivery cleaner and easier, new coal stoves and heaters, a couple of windows were replaced due to wood rot, and an upstairs balcony railing repaired. If anyone were to lean against it, they would have toppled to the ground, so crumbled and rusty was the railing and its footings. We updated the baths to today’s standards, and upgraded the kitchen ovens, scullery, and larders, adding cupboards and tables. Oh, and there is a new roof so the servants won’t get rained on in their quarters.”
“It was in that bad a condition?”
“The tenants were not the best sort,” Richard Hargate said, turning to scowl at his father.
“They had the funds,” declared Hargate senior garrulously.
“It must have cost a fortune! Where did the money come from?” Bella asked. “The estate—as you know—is barely above water. It could use an infusion of money after what that beastly steward did to the property and the tenants. I have scrimped and saved all year to make what repairs I could!”
Hargate senior grimaced. “I know. I have been bound by the terms of your late husband’s will. But rest assured, you will have the funds now to outfit the Richmond house as you like—which was Sir Harry’s intention—and to see to the repairs at Lennox Hill.”
“How much are we talking about?” Bella asked.
