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

said, “there are some conditions attached to this request. It is a request. You do understand that?”
    Joseph lost his smile. “Not really,” he said.
    “Don’t worry. I will go through it slowly for you. The first condition is that should you divorce Celia, you will have no further claim on the farm and you will be asked to leave the estate immediately. In this case, Celia will become the trustee in your place. Also, you will not be allowed to sell the farm. It must be passed on to your firstborn when he or she reaches the age of eighteen, or once again, to your wife, should you meet a premature death, have no children, or divorce. All accounts must be monitored by my office, and your personal wealth must be independently managed by yourself and should not involve funds pertaining to Merrill Farm.”
    “What do you mean? What personal wealth are you talking about?” Joseph asked, Clearly becoming alarmed at all the legalities being thrown at him.
    “It’s very simple, Joseph. Should you require a loan from the bank or be in debt in any way, such loans or debts will not be taken against or incurred by the Merrill Farm estate.”
    Joseph slumped into the chair, and disbelief crossed his face. Simon Ayres poured himself a glass of water, demonstrating that there was more to come. Joseph stared stupidly around the table, first at Celia, who refused to look at him, and then at Marie.
    “What the hell does all this mean?” he demanded again. “What are you gibbering on about: my wealth independent from the farm, divorce, and children? Surely if the farm is mine, and you did say it was mine, then I should be able to do anything I bloody well want with it—run it as I see fit or even sell it if I want to. Not that I’d ever do that, mind you, but the farm is mine now, isn’t it, Mr Ayres?”
    “No, Joseph, it is not,” Simon said at length. “I don’t think you have understood the implications of the request set down in the will. You see, you will never own Merrill Farm. It was never the intention of the late Peter Merrill to leave it to you; you have merely been nominated as a trustee of his estate. The deeds will remain in trust until, as was stated, your first male child reaches eighteen years of age… if he has siblings he would be obliged under the terms of the will to provide for them, of course. If you divorce your wife, or you die, the deeds would then be passed to Celia. If you and Celia do not produce an heir, male or female, and if both of you pass away, the estate will be declared as, an open sale at auction and the proceeds will go to the local charities specified in this will and testament… Do you want me to go over it all again?”
    At first, Joseph could only shake his head, but as the ramifications became clearer, his anger grew. “The fucking double-crossing dirty bastard,” he mumbled beneath his breath.
    The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Celia and Marie kept their eyes averted, both of them staring at their hands, which lay on their laps in tight fists.
    “I’m sorry, Joseph?” Simon Ayres said as a question. “I didn’t quite catch that. Did you want to ask me something else?”
    “No, there’s nothing else I want to ask you. Everything is fine. It’s all very clear. Now, are we done?”
    “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I know it’s been a long day, and I’m sure that you and Celia must want to be alone. But if I could detain you for a few minutes more… ?”
    “What now? Are you going to tell me how to run the farm? How many cows I can buy and sell. Maybe you’re a bloody expert in farming as well as the law, eh?”
    Simon Ayres tried rather unsuccessfully to hide his disdain. “No, I’m not an expert in farming methods,” he said softly. “But as you so rightly said, I am when it comes to the law. You have some documents to sign before this becomes legally binding, and I must reiterate that you need to adhere to the stipulations. I have to ask you