“Now, the will.” Mr. Willoughby’s voice brought her back to the present moment. He looked down at the first document. “Aha. Yes. The Earl of Trowbridge.” He lifted his gaze again. “Firstly, I would like to extend my deepest condolences on your father’s passing.”
“Thank you, that is– “ Marjorie started, but Alexander cut her off.
“He passed away six months ago,” he said unnecessarily rudely, in her opinion. “Now, if you will.”
“Why, certainly,” the man replied apprehensively, grabbing a swad of papers and proceeding to read from them. “The last will and testament of George Timothy William Haddington, the Earl of Trowbridge, dictated on January the twelfth, eighteen…”
Marjorie tried to focus on the words that were coming from that document, the only remnant of her adoptive father’s love, the only love this world had ever shown her. The fact that he had been gone from this world for as many as six months already returned in an onslaught, gripping at her heart, and squeezing violently. She looked away from both men, and quickly wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. The last thing she wanted was for Alexander to see her crying.
“… the entire estate to my son, on condition that he ensures a suitable match for my ward, Marjorie. In addition to this, he is to set aside an allowance for her once she has gotten married, so that she would never want financially. In case that my son fails to achieve this, the entire estate will be left to my ward, Marjorie Leeson.” Mr. Willoughby cleared his throat upon finishing with the will, when his placed the documents on the writing desk, and waited for the reaction.
Marjorie wished she could say that what she felt was relief. After all, the earl had arranged it so that, no matter what, she would never want financially. Yet, she did not feel good about this. She did not feel good at all, because she knew that this would be taken the wrong way. The situation she was in was like a double-edged sword. Whatever she chose to do, she would regret it no matter what.
Chapter 2
“This is an outrage!” Alexander jumped from his seat and turned to the woman seated calmly next to him. “She is an impostor! She has no claim to my father’s estate!”
He had never referred to her in such a way. He had thought it many times, but he had never said it out loud, until now. A part of him regretted the directness of his words, but it was too late to take it back now. The dam had broken, and everything he had kept buried inside threatened to come flooding out of him.
“Lord Haddington,” Mr. Willoughby tried to pacify the errant earl who only seemed to tense more with each passing second. “Please calm down. I am merely reading what your father’s last wishes were.”
“Those were not my father’s last wishes,” Alexander growled, baring his teeth. “It was her!” The finger of blame flew right in Marjorie’s direction, as the young lady immediately turned red as a poppy. “You put these crazy ideas in my father’s head while tending to him in his final days! He would never come up with this on his own! I am his son!”
“I beg your pardon!” Marjorie was adamant in forcing herself to go through this with a calm mind and without any arguments, but Alexander had crossed the line, and she would not allow him to besmirch both her good name and the name of his own father by accusing either of them that this was some conspiracy against him. “I felt nothing but love for your father as if he were my own flesh and blood. That is how I have always treated him, and he me. It was an honor to be by his side in his final days, to tend to him as he had tended to me when I was a little girl whom he had saved from the cruelty of London streets. But you would know nothing about that, would you? About tending to those less fortunate than yourself, because those never even crossed your mind.”
“Do not intend to change the subject, it shall do you no good,” Alexander warned her, his finger still trembling in her direction accusatorily. “And you, Mr. Willoughby, how does a solicitor even entertain a scandalous will such as this one? It is obvious that my father has made it without the much-needed clarity of mind. For someone outside the gentry to inherit such an estate is ludicrous! Why, it is utterly unheard of!”
Every time he opened his mouth to speak, Alexander promised himself he would do so with a clarity of mind and serenity in speech, but it simply did not happen. His dissatisfaction reached such limits that he could barely catch his breath.
“I assure you, Lord Haddington, that my father has seen to this will, which means that the earl was in his right mind and sound body while dictating this. There is no mistake about that.” Mr. Willoughby had finally decided to speak up as well. It brought Marjorie unexpected joy that she had an ally in this mess.
“We shall see about that,” Alexander snarled.
“There is nothing to see,” she corrected him much more calmly than she expected herself to be. Even Alexander was taken off guard by this. “I give you my word that I knew nothing about this. You father has not spoken about the will to me at any point. However, none of that matters, as I do not want the estate in any case. I have no need for it. So, if Mr. Willoughby would be kind enough to start the paperwork for it immediately, we could sign everything, and you can – “
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, Miss Marjorie,” Mr. Willoughby shook his head apologetically, unwilling to interrupt her, but also unwilling to have her believe something that simply could not be. He was pressing his thin lips together so that they turned into a white, invisible slit on his face. Strangely, the nose remained as incredibly red as the first moment he appeared.
“What do you mean?” Alexander snorted finally lowering that finger, almost like a pistol that was dangerously close to firing. Now, it was aiming at no one. “She just informed you that she has no need for the estate, so I am free to inherit it all. Is that not enough?”
“What I mean is that you cannot simply disregard someone’s last will and testament in such a manner, and do what you very well please,” Mr. Willoughby was adamant. “No solicitor shall be a part of such travesty.”
“What are we to do then?” Alexander asked, frowning. He refused to even look in her direction. Her very presence in this entire affair was disagreeable to him. He expected to see her at the reading of the will, however, he also expected for her to receive only a small sum, meaningless to him, while the rest would be left to him to dispose of as he saw fit. Being conditioned into helping her though was not something he expected.
But would he have helped her otherwise?
If he had to be brutally honest with himself, the answer would be a resounding no. As an only child, Alexander had been accustomed to always having his way. All he needed to do was point his finger at something and it became his. Then, suddenly, and so very unexpectedly, his father returned home one evening with a child. A girl. An annoyingly pretty and curiously shy girl. She was to stay with them. How long, Alexander asked. Indefinitely.
Her presence had always been a nuisance to him. He never saw himself as an older brother and hated the imposition of that role upon himself. So, he simply decided to remove himself from this situation whenever a chance for it appeared. As if turned out, it appeared quite often, and the two children grew together, yet strangely apart, leading to them knowing so very little of the character of the other.
Now, he felt he knew her less than before. He felt as if she were exactly like she was that first day when he saw her. She was frightened, confused, believing that the whole world was against her. He could see that same fear in her eyes now.
“You have no other means of going about this other than following your father’s instructions, word for word,” Mr. Willoughby concluded. From the tone of his voice, it was easy to conclude that the man’s hands were tied. His obligation was to the deceased man, not to the ones who remained behind. “You are to find a match for young Lady Marjorie here. If you fail, according to your father’s wishes, it is she who inherits the entire estate.”
With those words, the reading of the will was concluded. The initially disarrayed pile of papers had somehow magically transformed itself into order. They rested neatly stacked one on top of the other, placed right in front of the solicitor, who had a satisfied grin on his face. He had done his job. Only, Alexander felt he did not do it very well. He should have aided him in finding a means to go around this condition. But Alexander could see that this man would be of little help.
“Thank you, Mr. Willoughby,” Marjorie was the first one to speak, giving a respectful nod. Everything about her body language spoke in favor of her sudden desire to leave this place as hastily as her manners allow her. “If there is anything else, we shall contact you promptly over it. Goodbye.”
Her words were said hastily. She could obviously not wait to get out of that room as fast as she could. With a similarly swift goodbye, Alexander rushed after her. He caught up with her in a small corridor, which led straight for the front door. He tried shouting after her, but she pretended not to hear him. When he grabbed her by the elbow, unable to come up with anything else that might prevent her from dashing off, she finally stopped. His grip was not hard or painful, yet she looked at him as if he had broken a part of her somehow.
