FeverFantasy

“This cannot be!” Rafe cried.

“I’m afraid it is,” Mr. Bryce said gently. “His solicitors in London have been served notice, the authorities on Tobago verified the accidental nature of the shooting. Although I’m aware it may be little consolation, he died very quickly, with little suffering.”

Rafe grimaced, and swallowed hard against the lump in the back of her throat. After a long moment, she raised her eyes to Abbey’s face, and almost cried aloud at the pain buried deep within Abbey’s eyes. So, she’d loved him, too.

Abbey took a deep breath. “I suppose we must arrange for a visit to Engleston and Associates, your father’s solicitors, my dear,” she said to Rafe. “There is much to be settled. Much to be done. I will verify a proper …burial was arranged. Oh, Rafe!”

Rafe fisted her hands so hard her nails drew blood from her palms. She would not weep in front of a stranger. “I never even got to see him again, Abbey,” she breathed, stricken. This couldn’t be goodbye! How could it be goodbye when she’d never even gotten to say hello again? She turned to Mr. Bryce. “Tell me everything you know about him. How he spent these last years.” If she couldn’t have her father back, at least she could have every precious bit of information about how he’d spent his last years there was to know. “Memories and such. Also, I assume you have brought his personal belonging back to London with you?”

“But of course,” Mr. Bryce said quietly.

Abbey steeled herself, fighting back tears. I never even got to say goodbye! And my God! That terrible letter I sent! She forced herself to focus on Rafe. She would grieve later, privately. “You are quite a wealthy woman, my dear. We must staff the residence, and meet with the solicitors. You will need to learn much about the estates you will now be overseeing. I don’t know if you truly realize how extensive your father’s holdings are. And now they’re yours.”

Mr. Bryce cleared his throat. “Actually, ma’am…”

“Actually what?” Abbey said stiffly.

Mr. Bryce removed a sheaf of documents from a leather attaché case he had discreetly holding. Gently he laid them atop the library table and said, “I didn’t wish to add to your burdens at a time such as this, but feel perhaps you prefer to know the facts as quickly as possible. If I am remiss in telling you, the solicitors will advise, and you will wonder why I didn’t speak. To avoid such a misunderstanding, and as I believe women are capable of understanding even intricate legalese, I will share these with you here and now.”

Abbey accepted the documents and began scanning the first page. Rafe watched as her mouth tightened, and she quickly flipped the page, to the next, the next, and the next. By the middle of the pile, Abbey’s expression had changed from one of grief, to disbelief and fury. She raised her eyes from the papers and glared at Mr. Bryce. “If you think for one minute that I shall placidly accept this, you are sorely misled indeed!” she snapped.

“I’m afraid it is not a matter of your acceptance, ma’am. It is done. It is a matter of her father’s wishes, which are herein made specifically clear.”

“You expect me to believe that the Duke drew up a very detailed will scant weeks before he was to sail home?”

“What?” said Rafe. “What are those papers? What are you talking about?”

“He was concerned about the voyage, ma’am,” Bryce said. “Of late, he’d seemed to become increasingly morbid.”

“What?” Rafe said again.

“But you were going to be on the very same ship, my good Mr. Bryce,” Abbey clipped, her eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Mr. Bryce shrugged. “I cannot speak for the man. Verily, I had no idea what he’d done until shortly after his death. Apparently, he’d taken as much of a liking to me as I had to him. We’d become close, and he had spoken often of his daughter. I had expressed interest. I suppose it seemed only natural to him. Personally, I feel his making of such documents prior to his voyage was an honorable, admirable thing to do. It indicates he felt quite strongly for his daughter, and was worried for her continued care. After all, she has no one else.”

“What?” Rafe exploded, determined to get someone’s attention. Both heads whipped around. Abbey’s hazel eyes were furious. Mr. Bryce’s were bland, apologetic.

“Oh no,” Rafe started to shake her head. “Oh no. My father wouldn’t do that to me--” she began.

“It appears he did,” Abbey hissed. “For herein it specifies that if Lady Bennington does not wed Mr. Bryce with all due haste,” she spit the words, “then Lady Bennington will be completely disinherited. Not one pound, not one shilling, farthingless. And all property, real and otherwise, will pass to Mr. Bryce’s oh-so-capable, or shall I say, culpable?—hands. How long did you know the Duke, Mr. Bryce?” Abbey asked, fire smoldering in her eyes.

“Two years,” he replied stiffly to her blatant animosity. “I am from England originally, but spent most of my childhood in the Colonies. I sailed to the West Indies on business. That is how I became acquainted with my dear friend, and yours. It is not with pleasure, but great grief that I bring these documents.” He regarded Rafe somberly then offered a faint, sad smile. “Although, having seen you for myself, I must confess that you are as lovely and every bit as suited to me as he thought you would be. If I’d had my druthers, I wouldn’t have told you this pell-mell on the heels of such tragic news. However, if I hadn’t told you, and then the solicitors had, I believe you would have questioned my integrity.”

“Your integrity? Oh! Your integrity, indeed! I assure you, sir, I will be questioning not only your integrity, but every damned thing about you!”

Rafe’s eyes widened at the first curse she’d ever heard Abbey utter.

Mr. Bryce stiffened. “Question what you will, ma’am. But I have talked to his solicitors myself. The documents are above reproach and quite explicit. Rest assured I will care for your charge with the utmost gravity and good intent. The Duke explicitly asked me to wed her with all haste as she has no one else to care for her. I now see precisely what he meant by that,” His gaze rested scathingly on Abbey. “Make no mistake, she will be my wife. I will honor my dear friend’s last request, unless of course, she prefers penury.”

Rafe was silent, shocked into numbed withdrawal. This couldn’t be happening. Her father wouldn’t do this!

As Abbey and Mr. Bryce glared daggers at one another, Rafe struggled to speak. All she wanted to do was fling herself across her bed and cry her heart out, but now she had to contend with this? She needed “this” gone. One catastrophe at a time was enough. “We will require time to compose ourselves, Mr. Bryce. Would you grant us a week?”

Mr. Bryce nodded somberly. “As you wish, Lady Bennington, I offer my apologies on the tone of our meeting. One week. I will see myself out.” And he was gone.

Silence enveloped the women, thick and suffocating as a shroud, split briefly by the thudding of the door as it rattled its hinges. The silence lasted a full measure of time. Shadows were falling outside the windows, as Abbey shuffled and reshuffled through the documents Mr. Bryce had left.

“Oh Rafe,” Abbey said finally, “these papers are so explicit, so well drawn up, that I can not find one loophole of which we might avail ourselves. But I will be calling upon Mr. Culver tomorrow. Although you’ve only recently made his acquaintance, I have known him for years and he is a barrister of the highest repute. As a member of the Law Society, and advisor to the Regent, if there is a loophole to be found, he will find it. Before we meet again with this Mr. Bryce,” she spat the name as though it burned her tongue, “we will know precisely were we stand.”

Rafe raised her luminous eyes to Abbey, “I’m being paid back, Abbey. Because I helped Trina escape an arranged marriage, now I’m being paid back. I can’t escape it.”

“Do not be foolish,” chided Abbey. “I do not believe for a moment that this is all as it appears to be. Your father would not have done this. I know that. Now we just have to devise a way to prove it.”

“How can you know that?” Rafe asked hopelessly.

“Because I knew your father.”

“But father may have changed in the past six years! Maybe he did do this! Abbey, he just abandoned me at Sacred Heart when I was twelve, maybe he didn’t want me anymore! For all I know I never really knew my father at all. The last I saw him was years ago and although his letters were frequent, they never said much.”

“Your father loved you,” Abbey said firmly.

“I don’t even know that, Abbey! Maybe he didn’t! Maybe he really thought this Mr. Bryce would be good for me.”

“Do you want to marry Mr. Bryce, Rafe?”

“No!” Rafe cried. “I don’t even know the man. I want to be free. I have to find Trina. I don’t want to marry anyone! But what if it really was father’s last wishes?”

“It wasn’t,” Abbey said flatly.

“I’ll never know that for certain.”

“Yes you will, Rafe. Terrence Bryce is lying. Though I am not privy to the nefarious details of it, I do know that this Bryce didn’t know the Duke as well as he claims. Impossible that he would have forced you to marry someone, or disinherit you. Impossible that the Duke would have excluded me from that document, and the document excludes me. Each will the Duke has ever drawn up has always contained a very generous stipend for me. He took pains to let me know that. And he did not just abandon you at Sacred Heart to be quit of you. He brought you to Sacred Heart at my request. The Duke knew full well that you had someone else.

“I did? I do?”

“Oh, to the bloody blazes with it! I should have said this long ago. There’s none to harm now. Yes, you do.” Abbey inhaled deeply, closed her eyes a moment then opened them, exhaling slowly. “My dear, dear Rafe, I am your mother.”