Masters And Lovers 1-4

Chapter 61

*****

Driving back to the office, Edward turns to his son. “So, what do you make of that Richie?”

“It all sounds good Dad, but what would happen if something went wrong? Suppose he couldn’t keep

up the loan payments on that land, for example?” Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

“There are ways of protecting yourself against that sort of thing, son.”

*****

Michael

Charlotte is white and starting to tremble. Eyes streaming, shaking violently, she drops her face into her

hands.

Christ….

…. She’s going to collapse….

James, his expression alarmed, is already rising, but I’m there before him, catching her before she

falls.

Supporting her as I guide her back down, I pull her back to cradle her on my lap. She’s not usually a

‘sitting on the knee’ kind of girl, but by any measure, this is a special occasion.

“Shhh….” I kiss her hair, murmuring something to her. She’s sobbing and crying into my chest…. “It’s

alright. It’s alright.”

Richard, his face stricken, stands. “Charlotte, I….”

“Just emotional,” I say. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine in a minute.”

Richard nods, then walks to a cupboard, taking out a bottle of brandy. He splashes a measure into a

glass passing it to me, then holds up the bottle, looking around the room.

“Good idea,” says James. “One of those all-round I think.”

“But, this can’t be right,” protests Beth. “Uncle Albert never had a daughter. He only had sons. I knew

David and Stephen. There were others who’d grown up and left, but there was definitely no daughter. I

would remember.”

“Not if the family disinherited her,” I point out. “Buried her memory.”

“Why would they do that?”

Richard flashes a glance at me and James.

Two women in the room….

…. both with tender nerves here….

“Elizabeth….” he says, his voice gentle, “…. We know that Charlotte's mother was a prostitute. And

possibly she was an unmarried mother too. Would that be enough? You know your family better than I

do. Would that be enough for them to disinherit the girl?”

Beth’s eyes are shiny. She speaks slowly. “Yes, it might, with Stephen certainly. And when Uncle Albert

remarried…. Aunt Delia would never have let a ‘loose woman’ into the house.” She sits, shaking her

head. “But…. Surely I should remember something?”

“My Love, you wouldn't have been born for years yet when this all started. And later, you would still

have been very young.”

“How old was she?” asks James. “The girl you remember?”

Richard has that faraway look again. “Perhaps four or five….”

“So, she’d be in her mid-forties now?”

“Yes.”

“In other words, just about the right age to be Charlotte’s mother,” concludes James.

Charlotte moves in my embrace, still trembling but wiping her eyes, visibly trying to pull herself

together. “Sorry about that.” She’s a bit teary, but the tension is easing from her. James' eyes crinkle,

but he says nothing, simply watching her with that look of his that no-one else ever gets.

Richard looks contrite. “My apologies, Charlotte. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. I simply didn’t

think about what a shock it would be for you.”

She gives him a wan smile. “You think there’s a better way you could have said it?”

James breaks in. “I think we can agree that however startling Richard’s revelation might be, we now

have two avenues to follow to try to trace Michelle Kimberley. One is this….” He waves a hand over the

laden conference table…. “…. mess of paperwork. The other….” He turns to Beth….

“Yes,” she says. “Stephen and David must know. I’ll go ask them.”

“You could call them,” says Richard. “Save yourself a long trip.”

“No.” She brushes dust from her skirt with a violent movement. “They’ve ducked the question every

time I’ve tried to raise it. This needs to be done face-to-face.”

*****

One test of a successful business, as James once pointed out to me, is if you can turn your back on it

knowing that your staff will look after things for you.

Francis doesn’t even blink when Richard puts just about everything on hold. “Unless it’s urgent,

Francis, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Of course not, Richard. Is there anything specific you consider urgent?”

“I’m happy to rely on your judgment.”

He joins me, James, Charlotte in the conference room to work our way through Albert’s papers. What

was once an annoying task, sorting through a dead man’s lifetime of trivia, has become important.

“No Beth?” James raises brows.

“She's making arrangements to visit her family. Trying to talk to Albert’s sons, Stephen and David.” He

rubs the back of his neck. “She sounded annoyed when I spoke to her. Said she might be a few days.

Apparently, they're avoiding her.”

“Scenting trouble?”

“So I assume.” He surveys the multiple stacks of paperwork and heaves a sigh. “Actually, I'm happier

she's not here right now. I have an uncomfortable feeling about what we might learn from this lot. If it

was my own father that drove her favourite uncle into bankruptcy, I'd rather know about it before she

finds out.”

“That would be ironic wouldn't it,” I comment. “You did say something about the old man not liking you.”

“That's right. At the time I put it down as the whimper of a crotchety old man, but now....” He pulls up a

chair. “Any suggestions where I start?”

“That pile there….” James jabs a finger at a stack of dusty manila folders, “…. seems to be the various

drafts of the contract that was drawn up between them. And that stack is the applications for

permissions for the project. I think that would probably interest you the most and you’d be the one who

could comment on it all most intelligently.”

“Fair enough.” He picks up a file and then coughs as a cloud of dust billows up then settles over his

previously immaculate suit. “Perhaps I should have worn something more casual….”

“Perhaps you should.”

*****

“I’m beginning to wish I’d known Beth’s Uncle Albert,” comments Charlotte.

James purses his lips, looking at her over the top of his glasses. “You’re going to have to stop calling

him that, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not just ‘Beth’s Uncle Albert’. He’s your grandfather.”

Her mouth makes an O. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Gramps, Grandad, Grandpa…. What do you want to call him?” I say.

Eyes wide, Charlotte’s hand rises to her mouth. “I don’t know….” she whispers.

“The idea’s still a bit fresh, I think,” says Richard. Then he rolls eyes to the ceiling. “So that would make

Elizabeth and Charlotte….”

“Second cousins,” says James. “They share great-grandparents.”

Charlotte sits back, smiling as she riffles through papers. “I like the sound of that.”