Free The Guardian of Secrets: And Her Deathly Pact by Jana Petken Page A

ever known, and she trusted him implicitly.
    As Celia watched Simon Ayres shuffle through his papers at the top end of the table she could only surmise that this would be a task he hadn’t been looking forward to. She was sure that it would be one of the saddest duties he’d ever have to perform and she pitied him. He looked up and Celia inadvertently sucked in her breath. The atmosphere was tense, and she suspected that nothing was going to be straightforward today. She could smell Joseph’s greed and briefly looked in his direction before returning her attention to Simon Ayres. He checked the papers in front of him once more and then he spoke.
    “Well,” Simon Ayres said to the others, “this is a sad day for all of us, so let’s get it over with, shall we?”
    Celia nodded in agreement, She felt resurrected somewhat. Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity, she decided. For once in her life, she would be strong. She would now know if Joseph’s words bore any truth, and if they did, she would fight with every fibre of her being to keep Merrill Farm true to her father’s memory. Joseph would not take her heritage or destroy her father’s life’s work.
    Simon Ayres interrupted her thoughts with a cough that got everyone’s attention.
    “This is the last will and testament of Peter George Merrill, who, on signing this document, was of sound mind and body. George Cromwell, of Lewisham, South East London, and myself, Simon Ayres, of Mayfair, London, witnessed this testament in the presence of Peter George Merrill on the fourteenth of October in this present year, nineteen twelve. I will now read the will…
    “‘I, Peter George Merrill, of sound mind and body, do bequeath to my daughter, Celia Lillian Merrill, the sum of thirty thousand pounds, to be realised on her twentieth birthday… ‘“
     
    With this said, Simon Ayres paused, took off his glasses, and directed his eyes towards Celia. “Celia, your father nominated me as the executor of his will; therefore, I shall, with your permission, keep these funds in trust for you in the interim period.”
    Celia nodded her head.
    “Now moving on…
    “‘To my dear wife’s sister, Miss Marie Osborne, I leave my gold pocket watch, a gift from her to me on my wedding day. To Mrs Mavis Baxter of Goudhurst, I bequeath the sum of five hundred pounds for her faithful service to my family. And finally, to my son-in-law, Joseph Dobbs, I leave the Merrill Farm estate, in its entirety, in his capable hands.’”
    Simon read the farm’s inventory aloud and finished by saying, “‘And the house and all other farm equipment listed in this document.’”
    The mood at the table deepened. Celia stared straight ahead, concentrating on the portrait of her mother that hung on the wall. Her head was now screaming with pain, and she instinctively touched the lump on her scalp. She tried to sort out the jumbled thoughts, but the pain in her head was becoming so severe that she thought she would faint right there at the table. Her father’s face danced in her mind’s eye, and at that moment, she hated him just as much as she hated Joseph. She had lost everything. She wanted to die right there and then. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. She wanted to kill Joseph and throw his corpse to the pigs. Her father had betrayed her. He had let her down in the most callous and thoughtless way. Joseph had told the truth; she would never be free of him now. She could never tell him to leave. The farm was his!
     
    “Well, this calls for a drink,” Joseph said, rising to his feet. “That’s if there’s nothing else, Mr Ayres.”
    Simon looked at Celia and Marie and cleared his throat, making it clear that this was the part he had been dreading. “Yes, actually, Joseph, there is more, much more. Would you sit back down, please? I haven’t finished.”
    Joseph sat down again with the smile still planted on his face, hiding his impatience. “You see, Joseph,” Simon