Chapter 11

11

T he reading of the will left a bitter taste in Maryn's mouth. If Grandfather had only consulted her about the matter first. Warned her of leaving Nicola out of it to a large degree.

"I'm astonished," Nicola told the Edinburgh solicitors in the library's dark confines. "A meagre five thousand pounds is not what I had in mind. Are you certain you're not overlooking anything?"

Unfortunately, the lead solicitor seemed to have taken an instant dislike to Nicola from the moment they'd met. Maryn stayed quiet, letting them have their say. What could she possibly add given she'd inherited nearly everything?

"Five thousand pounds is no small sum," he replied, frowning. "You are the youngest in the family and, as such, are fortunate to receive what your late grandfather so generously provided."

"If I were a man I'd contest it," she replied, looking at Lord Marchmont as if expecting him to intervene.

But the peely-wally Lord M, as Maryn had begun to think of him, simply met his wife's stare with bleary eyes. Was Nicola worried he might die and she'd be left destitute? Maryn had no idea the state of their financial affairs. When the solicitors had left, Maryn turned to her sister in concern.

"If you are in need of funds—"

"Fortunate for you to say." Nicola stood, her fury a fiery mask. "I find it ghastly that you, as Herschel's twin, have inherited the entirety of Grandfather's estate. Never for one moment shall I forget it is rightfully our brother's."

"Nor shall I," Maryn replied at once.

"A double travesty given you are likely to never marry and so our family line will end, thus we are in danger of forfeiting everything."

That sad possibility needed no pointing out. Maryn looked at the library clock, wishing them on their way.

Nicola continued hotly, "If our situations were reversed I could at least have bequeathed the estate to my heirs and the son we soon hope to have."

How could she have forgotten? Maryn looked to Nicola's waist, her throat so tight she couldn't offer congratulations.

Nicola pulled on her gloves. "Perhaps you will be so inclined as to rightfully reward us when you come to your senses about matters. My greatest hope is that our son will inherit the duchy one day."

Stung by embarrassment, Maryn said nothing. 'Twas one thing to muse on such a matter privately but to express it in such a blatantly ill-mannered way? And with such blistering blame as if she'd all but killed Herschel then stolen his inheritance to boot. All benevolent thoughts flew out of Maryn's head. She could only hope her three nieces would be nothing like their entitled mother.

The offended couple swept out though Lord M cast her what seemed a slightly apologetic look as he did so. Maryn's hopes that they would have harmoniously brought their daughters and tarried for a meal or even spent the night were dashed. They hadn't brought the girls, they'd only stayed for the reading of the will, and had shunned her invitation. Maryn had heard some women suffered from nerves when enceinte as the French said. Perhaps, in her condition, Nicola was the same?

She left the library, glad to find Rosemary in the hall. Her smile was a balm for the fractious forenoon. "Such a bonny day. Pure sunshine and nae wind. Would you like yer dinner in the garden, Your Grace?"

"A lovely idea, thank you. I'll be in Grandfather's cabinet till then."

Rosemary whispered, " Yer cabinet."

"Ah, so it is." Maryn smiled past her soreness. "I haven't quite gotten used to the idea that he's away permanently and I'm now completely here."

"D'ye miss the cottage?"

"Sometimes I'm tempted to return to it. I miss Bassett and Jamesina. The simplicity of a few rooms. The orangery. All the birds and wild creatures. How about you?"

"Nay." She pursed her lips as a footman passed by. "I'd be fey to choose a cottage o'er a castle. Folk would talk and I'm jealous of yer reputation."

Folks do love to talk, Maryn didn't say.

"Time t' reverse the Lockhart curse, if ye dinna mind my saying so."

Maryn almost laughed despite herself. "One of your best attributes is your honesty, Rosemary. Glad I am of it."

Flushing, the maid gave a seamless curtsey which she'd obviously been practicing. "I promise t' ne'er give ye cause to doubt me. I rather enjoy being a lady's maid."

"Are your new garments coming soon from the dressmaker?"

"Och! Tomorrow she'll be here with the finished gowns and underpinnings. I canna thank ye enough!" Beaming, she excused herself and went upstairs to resume doing whatever lady's maids did.

It was hard to remain melancholy in Rosemary's perpetually cheerful presence. She was all sunshine whereas Nicola was a dreich day. Wanting to shake off their morning meeting, Maryn returned to her cabinet. Fresh-cut roses filled a four foot tall porcelain Chinese vase atop a side table, perfuming the chamber.

She'd not changed anything in this sumptuous room yet. Might she begin by replacing the painting over the mantel? Grandmother, regal as she was, belonged in the Portrait Gallery, not here looking down on her rather mournful granddaughter as if admonishing her. For Maryn felt thoroughly admonished of late.

Try as she might, she seemed to be a disaster at estate management. Such bored her to tears. Her passion was words, period. But lately even words failed her, on paper especially. Her new responsibilities left no time for her usual creative pursuits. She hadn't even time to peruse the circulation numbers of The Queen Bee Chronicles. Nor savor the satisfaction she'd founded it the year before.

All was business and ledgers, a dreadful thing she had no head for. An estate manager was in order as the former had died shortly before Grandfather. But where was she to start looking for one?

She couldn't consult Everard Hume, known far beyond Berwickshire borders for his landowning prowess, including those in his employ. Reliable, honest stewards and managers were hard to come by. Straightening the stack of ledgers, she grabbed hold of a consoling thought. She would ask Lord Stair his recommendation …

She took out a list of all the duchy's tenants, many whose names she recognized. Grandfather had been a generous, conscientious laird as Mrs. Duncan had said. Maryn wouldn't change that though the estate had changed hands. Sending an unspoken plea heavenward, she fought the inclination to read another of Orin's letters.

"Your Grace … " The housekeeper appeared in the doorway, ever helpful and perhaps heavensent. "I thought I might offer you some counsel given you asked me to bring you the household account books yesterday."

"Please come in." Maryn brightened. "I was just mulling the matter rather unsatisfactorily. I'm unsure where to start."

"Inheriting an estate of this size must be overwhelming and with the estate manager's untimely passing, God rest him, a finer man cannot be had." She sat opposite Maryn and pulled spectacles from her pocket. "If it's any consolation, I worked closely with the late Mr. McCullough for many years, especially when his eyesight began to fail."

"I had no idea."

"He was loathe to tell your ailing grandfather and so we just continued on as best we could. The estate itself, largely due to McCullough, always turned a profit. Half of the land lies fallow and all the tenants are in good standing, nary a one in arrears. But there are always needs to be met."

"Such as?"

"Your grandfather insisted on a month-by-month report of each family on Lockhart lands. McCullough and I would go out together to make the rounds and visit each dwelling, determine a course of action and so forth. That hasn't been done since he passed and your grandfather began failing."

Maryn grew concerned. Tenants were an ongoing responsibility though she'd never been privy to this sort of business. Surely she wasn't expected to visit them herself given both her disfigurement and sad history seemed a magnet for gawking. She shuddered at the thought. "What do you recommend in Mr. McCullough's absence, then?"

"Hutchins is senior footman and has been at the Hall the longest. He has a head for business and is on good footing with most of the tenants given McCullough often used him as liaison. I'd suggest sending Hutchins and myself to make the rounds. Perhaps he'd even make a competent steward in time."

"Would he be amenable to that?"

"I canna speak for him, of course, but he is faithful and trustworthy and able-bodied. Being midlife and unmarried, he is wholly invested here."

"I shall consider it then, thank you. Go ahead and make the rounds again then report to me like you did Grandfather. How long has it been since you've gone about the estate?"

"Last March, Your Grace."

"Overdue, then. I'll look forward to hearing what has transpired since spring."

Mrs. Duncan looked relieved. "We shall forge ahead with your blessing. I do ken a fever and a difficult birth among the tenants. There are always concerns and demands given the sizable number of them."

"Of course. Since Grandfather was often away, I'm beginning to sense you and Mr. McCullough managed here very adeptly." Maryn regarded her thoughtfully. "Which merits an increase in wages, surely."

"Weel, I couldna—"

"Please, Mrs. Duncan, I'm sure my late grandfather would agree. Consider it your duty." Maryn smiled, feeling a lift in her own spirits. "And convey the same to Hutchins, please."