My Father's Gift Page 6
*
They arrived all throughout the morning. Business associates, friends and family. Her mother was once again in mourning widow mode, although Annalise noticed that the older members of the family were sceptical. They were well aware of her exploits whilst married, although they were polite and masked the majority of their disdain.
Annalise stood and greeted her half-brothers and their mothers, guiding them to the dining room where a simple spread had been laid out for their comfort. After that she was pleased to note that her aunt, uncle and their children had arrived. Her greeting was much easier with them and despite the occasion, she couldn’t help but smile when they talked about their lives, running farming country and mucking in with the others. She was pleased to know that her childhood pony had birthed a healthy foal and that both were doing well.
She introduced them to the buffet where they tucked in and spoke amongst themselves.
She itched to get everything over and done with, to finally come to the end. Perhaps when this was over she would finally be able to cry, to grieve for her father and move on with her life.
She looked up as Sir Waltham was escorted into the dining hall. She became aware of the sudden tension and anticipation in the air.
She moved across the room, noting her mother doing the same and grimaced. Of course she would ingratiate herself with him.
She was pleased to note his discomfort, and was amused at her mother’s expression when he didn’t fall for her charms. Instead he sought Annalise, politely excused himself and came towards.
“Miss Barrington,” he murmured, bowing. “If I may take a moment of your time before we begin.”
“Of course. We will go to the study. Please, follow me.”
She was aware of every eye watching her, from the worried and caring eyes of her family, to the cold and calculating stares of her father’s previous wives. The sooner they were out of her home, the better.
As soon as the door closed behind them, he apologised, placed his case upon the table and from it withdrew a thick envelope.
“When your father first came to our firm and I took him on as a client he asked me to safeguard this envelope until his death. He bid that I never open it or question him about it, just that I should give it to you in the event of his death and before the reading of his will.”
Annalise took the envelope. The paper was thick and heavy, yellowed with age and yet she could clearly see her name, written out in her father’s beautiful handwriting.
“Do you know what it is?” she asked, more for something to say rather than for hope of an answer.”
Waltham shook his head.
“I never asked,” he said at last. “It was not my place.”
Annalise stroked the envelope, staring down at it. It really was rather heavy. Still, she smiled, unlocked her father’s bureau and placed it inside, locking it away again.
“Thank you,” she murmured before straightening her back and turning to the family lawyer.
“I think in here would be appropriate for the reading,” she said at last. “If it suits you, please sit at my father’s desk. I will bring the others through when you’re ready.”
He nodded and made himself comfortable, pulling a sheaf of papers from his bag. At his nod Annalise opened the study doors and invited everyone inside.
When everyone was seated, she closed the doors and remained standing. Her heart was beginning to thud painfully. These were her father’s last wishes. She was desperate to hear them, and terrified at the same time. Once they were spoken the last of her father would be gone.
Sir Waltham cleared his throat and thanked everyone for coming. Annalise stood by the doors and waited while he readied himself.
“First to the wives of Mr. Barrington he leaves nothing more than what was agreed upon in the divorce settlements. He states that you have received more than your fair share already, and it is not his responsibility to provide for you in the afterlife any more than he would have in life.”
Annalise watched the women in the room. Few of them looked pleased. Her mother in particular was struggling to hide her sour expression.
“To each of his children, Mr Barrington leaves the sum of twenty thousand pounds in trust. Access to those funds will be managed until they turn thirty, in which case they will be allowed full access to do whatsoever they like. To his eldest son, Harold, he leaves the gift of freedom.”
Annalise looked to her oldest sibling. He was a thin, blonde man with grey eyes and a graceful figure.
“Your father was aware that you had no taste for business. He does not wish for you to be shackled to his empire when it would cause you nothing but grief.”
She watched the older boy lick his lips and nod, looking down at the hardwood floor. She could almost see the relief radiating from him.
“For his brother Carl, Mr Bannington bequeaths the town house in London along with a yearly stipend to cover the running and staff costs. For Margaret the country estate, along with a stipend for costs. It was his wish that both of these houses be filled with laughter and life. He hopes that you will be happy there. To each of his nieces and nephews he also leaves twenty thousand pounds in trust. He hopes that you will enjoy life and work hard. Your parents have instilled great ethics in you and it is his dearest wish that you all have the opportunity to continue growing into good people.”
Annalise fought back tears at the expressions on her cousins’ faces. They were awed by the thought of so much money. It would set them up for life.
“It was also requested that, to those whom he employed and whom showed the greatest initiative and loyalty that a two hundred pound bonus be paid directly to you. I have already made the arrangements and that money will be with you by the end of the working week.”
There were gasps from the suited men that had been invited to the reading. Annalise noticed her mother starring daggers at those she thought of as beneath her.
“Everything else, in business, money and property he leaves to his daughter Annalise. He believes that out of all of his children only she has the maturity and sense and ability to juggle the responsibilities. Aside from Harold, she is the only one of his children to have spent any time with him and as such no one else knows how he likes to run his companies or his business interests. He requests that she continue to employ my services until she reaches the age of majority when she will be able to decide whether my services are required or not. Everything that has not already been transferred to her name will be done so by close of business today.”
Annalise licked her lips. She could feel every eye turning towards her. Already she felt like a piece of meat out on display. There was cold calculation to her mother’s level gaze.
“That is everything,” Sir Waltham said, shuffling the papers and putting them back in his bag.
Annalise took the opportunity to slip out into the hall once chatter broke out. She didn’t want to see the fighting or back-biting that was bound to occur when people didn’t get what they thought they deserved.
She sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. At least the house felt more comfortable now. It was her home, for as long as she wanted or needed. Nothing and nobody could take it away from her. That much she was certain of.
The door opened beside her and she straightened as her father’s associates escaped what sounded like a very fraught argument. She caught a glimpse of her cousins, aunt and uncle trying to extricate themselves from the accusations of the wives. Harold too looked a little bewildered.
The door clicked closed, the heavy wood blocking out the noise. Annalise turned to the men. They were dressed in their best, and she recognised two of them from the funeral. They had stood apart from the main group, their clothes immediately singling them out as working class. The others wore the better suits of clerks. They all had her father in common, and they were all humble as they thanked her for her hospitality. She thanked them for the services they had done her father and bid th
em to help themselves to refreshments before leaving. She turned as the door opened again. Harold stepped out. He was flushed. Annalise saw that Waltham was now the target of the collective ire and her cousins, aunt and uncle were also making their way out of the study.
Harold held the door open for them and, in the silence of the door closing; they all looked at one another awkwardly.
“I was unaware,” Harold said at last, “that such harpies existed outside of mythology.”
It broke the tension, and Annalise relaxed. Her cousins sniggered as they all made their way to the dining room where a light tea had been laid out for them.
Conversation came more easily. Annalise stood a little apart as her cousins spoke with the clerks, and her aunt and uncle talked quietly. She sipped her tea, watching them. It was the most comfortable she had felt in weeks.
“Annalise?” She turned to her eldest brother and inclined her head towards him.
“Harold,” she murmured, accepting his kiss to her cheek. “It has been a long time. How are you?”
“Would you think the worst of me if I were to admit to being terribly relieved?”
“Of course not. Why would you think so?”
He gestured to the house.
“Traditionally, this would all belong to me… As the eldest son, it would be my duty to take control of it all.”
“You feel differently however?”
“Completely the opposite,” he said. He gazed at her over the rim of his cup. “I fear I was never much of a one for politics or heading a household… My passion lies in academia. To run a business empire or a household?” He shivered.
“Then you are not angry that it has been left to me?”
“Not at all. I regret that I did not get to know father as well as he obviously knew me… after mother died…”
“He spoke of her often. She was the only woman he ever truly loved. On his desk there is a photograph of you all. I believe you were only just beginning to walk at the time.”
“I have no recollection… I suppose I was too young to remember.”
Annalise smiled.
“He was very proud of you. Even when you hadn’t spoken for many years he kept an eye on your progress. I’m sure they heard his crow of delight across the country when he heard you were going to university.”
“I never knew,” Harold said quietly. “I remember, as a boy, that he was a sailor, and I vaguely remember that when he came back from an especially long trip he swung mother around the kitchen laughing. Not long after that we moved to a small terrace in London. I was sent to an all-boys boarding school. I was there when I heard that mother had died, along with my unborn sister. An illness took her.”
“He spoke of it only once. I believe it was his greatest regret that he was not there for her when she needed him most.”
“I blamed him- hated him. When he remarried, it was another betrayal. I refused to speak to him. Only now do I realise that during all that time, I was still living off him. He paid my tuition and board. I was a foolish boy, and I was an even more foolish adolescent.”
“He did not think you foolish. He thought you to be quite brilliant. Father was a working man through and through. He started his life in the mines, moved to ships and made loyal trustworthy friends. His only fault was in the woman he chose to be his companion. I believe he sought your mother in every one of them.”
“You do your own mother a disservice. She is a very beautiful woman.”
“In all but thought and nature, yes.”
Annalise smiled at his widening eyes.
“I do not speak as such due to my own ugliness, though I am sure I have just as great a capacity for it. You must understand that I love my mother as much as custom decree’s, I do not, however, like her. She believes that I ruined her. I cannot speak to the truth or lie of it, but it is her belief. At the soonest opportunity she abandoned me to a litany of governess’ until father took me under his wing and indulged my mind.”
“You are learned?”
“In the ways of business and in practical matters. I do not have the breadth of your education, nor access to the libraries as you do. Still, I do not think I would consider myself a fool.”
“The way you speak, it is as if we came from a different man.”
“In some respects I think we did. I was the only child left with him. His other children were raised in their mothers’ homes. It hurt him, to have their minds poisoned against him, but he himself acknowledged that, after your mother passed, he was not a good husband. He didn’t blame any of them for leaving and he made them as comfortable as they could be.”
“It occurs to me that I knew very little of the man my father was. I feel regret at my action all the more keenly. Annalise- I am aware that this is truly the first time we have had a conversation, but I find myself bereft now. I am only twenty, and I am, perhaps for the first time, realising how little I know of people and the world. Would it be an imposition if I were to call on you in the future? I would like to know more about the kind of man my father was, and to know more of you also.”
Annalise smiled.
“I would consider it the height of ill manners if you were to not. I too would like the opportunity to know you better. I know that you will be returning to university come the morning. If it would not be an imposition, I would like to write to you. Father told me a little of your studies. I find them fascinating and, if it is not improper, would like to know more.”
He smiled and bowed, his eyes lighting up.
“I would like nothing more. It would be refreshing to have an eager, and if you’ll excuse the word, naïve mind to converse with. I have found that there are often pre-conceived ideas that even evidence finds hard to diminish.”
His enthusiasm filled her with delight.
“I look forward to it,” she murmured. “There is only so much tapestry and light conversation that a mind can stomach. It will be a delight to have a real conversation. However, if you will excuse me for the moment, I do think Sir Waltham will have had enough by now. I should rescue him from the baying hounds.”
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
“It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Harold, despite the circumstances.”
She stepped away, her small heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she made her way to the study.
She opened the door quietly and peered inside. She saw Sir Waltham sitting at her father’s desk, his head in his hands. The room was empty of her siblings and their mothers.
“Sir Waltham?” she asked.
His head jerked up. His eyes were red and when he spoke, his voice sounded as if he had a cold.
“Ah, Annalise… the others left. They were… unhappy with the day.”
“I heard. I apologise for leaving you with them. It was very rude of me.”
“Not at all, dear girl, not at all. They are not the first awkward relatives I have had to deal with. They will not be the last.”
“Still- I can only apologise that you received such treatment in this house.”
She had come to stand next to him. He took her hand and squeezed it gently.
“My dear, how they treat me is an indication on them, and no comment at all on you. Do not trouble yourself about it.”
“Would you care for refreshments? I can have them brought to you in a private room.”
“Thank you. That would be most kind.”
She escorted him to the parlour and rang for one of the maids. She sat with him, watching him carefully. That he had been crying she was in no doubt, but she could not bring herself to mention it. Waltham was an old man now, and his pride would be wounded.
“With regards to my father’s wishes,” she began, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “It would be an honour to retain your services. Until such a time as you retire I do not foresee any occurrence where I would not want you by my side. Father had a great regard for you. He often remarked that you were the most honest crook he had ever had
the pleasure of working with.”
Waltham chuckled.
“An honest crook. He was a good man, your father.”
“And he knew good men when he saw them too. I can only hope that I am able to make him proud.”
“I am sure you will. He knew as soon as you began schooling that you would be the one to helm his estate. You had, and have, a thirst for knowledge any man would be proud of.”
Annalise blushed at the compliment. She looked up as Grantham entered, pulling in a cart behind him. They waited in silence as he brought over the tray and poured tea for Sir Waltham. Annalise declined, standing.
“I will leave you in peace,” she said with a smile. “I am sure my other guests are waiting for me. Please take as much time as you like. Grantham will get you anything you need. A carriage will take you back into town, for the day is already becoming cold and rain looks to be on the way.”
“Thank you, Annalise. Please do not trouble yourself.”
“It is no trouble for a friend.”
She smiled, leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.
He patted her arm. Grantham held the door and bowed as she walked back out into the corridor.
“Is there anything you require, miss?” he asked as she passed.
“No, thank you Grantham. Please see to Sir Waltham’s needs. After that, relax a little.”
“Yes miss. Thank you.”
She walked in silence. Her stomach was churning now as she thought of the letter in the bureau. She wanted to run to it and tear it open, but she had guests to tend to first.
She re-entered the dining room. Harold was standing looking out over the estate. Her cousins were talking amongst themselves, the younger ones playing quietly.
Her aunt and uncle stood as she came in. She smiled at them, and it was all she could do not to cry when they folded her into a hug. The resolve she had built up was crumbling.
She knew genuine, familial love when she felt it and her aunts arms around her were tight as she rubbed Annalise’s back, murmuring that everything would get better.
She managed to hold the tears back as they said their goodbyes and promised to see one another more often.
The children climbed into the carriage and settled down quickly. Despite invitations to stay, they all needed to return to their homes and ready themselves for the coming harvest.
Harold was the last to leave. He stood with her as she waved her family off, and then he too bid her goodbye, presenting her with his address at university and a desire to hear from her soon. His cab trundled up the driveway. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, wished her a good day and hopped into the cab. The horse snorted and the driver doffed his cap before they set off again.
Annalise stood alone on the doorstep and then turned on her heel, rushing to the study.
She unlocked the bureau, pulled out the letter and sat at her father’s desk, running her finger over the creamy, aged paper. It had a fine tooth to it; heavy and expensive. It smelled of ink and dust.
She stared at the thick wax seal for a long time, finding herself weak at the thought of breaking it.
Finally she took a deep breath, took up the letter knife and broke the seal.
The wax popped from the face of the envelope in a clean break. Carefully, Annalise unfolded the paper.
Another envelope lay inside along with an ancient key. She stared at them both for a moment and then, her heart beating fast, turned to her fathers’ words.
She took a ragged breath, wiped the tears from her cheek and read through them again.
Half an hour later it was dark outside and her sobs were finally starting to slow.
She let the emotions build up and pour out of her until her head was pounding, her sinuses were completely blocked and her eyes burned She wiped away tears, blew her nose and finally calmed down enough to breathe.
It felt good to finally cry, to grieve and acknowledge that she missed her father more than she dared admit.
She read his letter a third time, and whilst it still made her cry, they were silent tears. Accepting tears.
She swallowed, folded the letter and held it above the candle flame until it caught alight.
She watched it bun and then dropped the remains on the floor, letting the paper burn and then stomping out the fire before anything else could catch. When she was sure the fire was completely dowsed she picked up the key and the second envelope and, holding them to her chest, began making her way upstairs.