Inherited by Her Enemy
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Then: ‘Natural son?’ Rosina repeated, her voice rising. ‘Are you telling me that Andrew has left everything—everything—to some—some bastard? Some Frenchman none of us have heard of until now?’
‘But I, madame, have heard a great deal about you,’ Andre Duchard said silkily. ‘I am enchanted to make your acquaintance at last.’
‘Enchanted?’ Rosina gave a harsh laugh. ‘Enchanted to think that you’ve robbed me of my inheritance, no doubt. Well, don’t count your chickens. Because I intend to fight this outrage if it takes everything I’ve got.’
Which at the moment, thought Ginny, is forty thousand a year and the use of a cottage. Damn all else. As for me—well, I can’t think about that now. The priority is damage limitation.
She put an arm round her mother’s shoulders. She said quietly, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Hargreaves, but I think we’re all in a state of shock. As my mother says, we hadn’t the least idea that Monsieur Duchard existed. But I imagine Andrew arranged for his heir’s credentials to be thoroughly checked.’
Mr Hargreaves took off his glasses and wiped them carefully. He said, ‘Indeed, yes. Mr Charlton always knew he had a son, and obtained legal recognition of his paternity according to French law. He also has letters and photographs going back to the time the boy was born, which my father kept for him in a box at our offices.’ He paused again. ‘This was a matter of discretion as Mrs Josephine Charlton was still alive at that time, and our client was anxious not to distress her.’
‘And what about my feelings?’ Rosina demanded tearfully. ‘He wasn’t so caring about them. Ten years of devotion rewarded by a pittance and the use of a hovel!’
Ginny groaned under her breath, stingingly aware of Andre Duchard’s sardonic smile, as he absorbed every word and gesture, then froze as he looked directly at her, the dark brows drawing together as if he’d been presented with a puzzle he had yet to master.
Hastily, she averted her gaze.
‘Mother, why don’t you come upstairs and lie down,’ she suggested gently. ‘I’ll ask Mrs Pelham to make you some tea and...’
‘I want nothing from that woman. Don’t you realise Andrew has treated me the same as her—a servant—in this disgusting will? Oh, how could he do such a thing? He must have been quite mad.’
Her eyes suddenly sharpened. ‘But of course, that’s it. Something must have disturbed the balance of his mind. Isn’t that what they say?’
‘I think you are referring to suicide, madame,’ Andre Duchard corrected gently.
‘Well, whatever.’ Mrs Charlton waved a dismissive hand. ‘We can still have the will overturned. You hear about such things all the time.’
‘I strongly advise against any such action,’ Robert Hargreaves said gravely. ‘You have no case, Mrs Charlton. Your husband was a sane and rational man, who wished to openly recognise his son born outside wedlock. The will I have just read was drawn up two years ago.’
‘But if this man is really Andrew’s son, why is he called—Duchard or whatever it was? It sounds bogus to me.’
The Frenchman spoke. ‘Duchard, madame, is the family name of my stepfather, who adopted me when he married my mother. I hope that sets your mind at rest,’ he added silkily.
Seeing that Rosina’s face had reddened alarmingly, Mr Hargreaves intervened. ‘I suggest you take Virginia’s advice, Mrs Charlton, and rest for a while. We will speak again in a day or two, when you’re feeling calmer. There are other important matters that need to be discussed.’
‘You mean I still have a bedroom in this house?’ Rosina glared at both men. ‘Your client isn’t proposing to move in here and now?’
‘I would not put you to such trouble, madame.’ There was a thinly veiled note of amusement in Andre Duchard’s cool tones. ‘I have a reservation at the hotel in the village, while I too have discussions with Monsieur Hargreaves.’
‘May I offer you a lift, monsieur?’ Robert Hargreaves was thrusting documents back into his briefcase, his relief palpable. ‘I see you dismissed your taxi.’
‘Merci. But with the flight and the journey here, I have been sitting too much. I think I will walk.’ He put on his trench coat and swung the leather bag on to his shoulder.
As they turned to leave, Barney emerged from the desk and stood watching their departure, ears flattened and tail drooping, as if he felt he’d been deserted a second time.
It was a sentiment that Ginny had her own reasons to share. But she made herself accompany the two men to the front door and wish them a polite ‘Good evening,’ adding haltingly, ‘I hope you understand my mother is very upset.’
‘Of course,’ Mr Hargreaves agreed reluctantly. ‘I will postpone any further meetings with her until next week. Goodbye, my dear. I’m sure things will seem different in the morning.’
She smiled and nodded, reflecting bitterly that there was a very long evening to get through first.
‘Au revoir, Virginie.’ The drawled French version of her name made it sound softer, giving it an almost sensual intonation, she realised with sudden embarrassment. Not that he had any right to use it. She felt her face warm and had to restrain herself from taking a step back, in order to put extra distance between them. ‘Et `a bient^ot,’ he added.
And this time the note of mockery was unmistakable, as he must know he was the last person she would ever wish to see again, soon or late.
She murmured something evasive, and shut the door, recalling how earlier she’d thought the worst was over.
With a sigh, she took herself off to the kitchen, to find Mrs Pelham sitting at the large scrubbed table reading a letter.
She said, ‘Don’t disturb yourself, Mrs Pel. I’ve come to make some tea. I’m afraid we’ve all had rather a shock.’ She paused. ‘It seems Mr Charlton has an illegitimate son—a Frenchman called Andre Duchard—and made him his sole heir.’
As she watched the housekeeper slowly remove her glasses and return them to their case, she added, ‘But perhaps you knew that already.’