Free Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 by Emerald Enchantment

was at your London office.”
    “Well, the boy has taken every penny and all the interest. It added up to quite a sum.”
    “How very interesting. But really, I don’t care what that woman’s bastard did with the money. I gave it to her and she chose to place it in his name.”
    Jacob peered at her from myopic eyes. “I thought you might like to know, since I took care of the transaction myself, and the young man told me to tell you his name.”
    “Get on with it, Jacob.” Cecelia was growing impatient.
    “I’m sorry to annoy you, your ladyship, but the young man was very strange. He said his name was Flannery, but that you would know him by the name of Paul Flanders. He also mentioned something about his father’s family being the original owners of the estate—that Fairfax Manor rightfully belonged to him.”
    The words of horror Cecelia longed to say died on her lips. She stood up, gripping the edge of the huge desk which had been her brother’s, and felt the room sway. It couldn’t be true, couldn’t be possible! No! No! her mind screamed but no sounds came from her mouth. Jacob must be mistaken—she prayed he was mistaken—but no, there was no denying it. It was as though she’d always known. Paul Flanders was Dera’s child, the bastard of the man who was suspected of killing her brother Avery, the rightful owner of all she possessed!
    “Your ladyship!” she heard Jacob’s voice, but she couldn’t respond. A numbness crept across the whole right side of her body. She couldn’t speak, felt unable to move. She knew she was losing consciousness, but she didn’t care about that. Her last lucid thought was that Jacob hadn’t written the new will; now it was too late.
    She would never sign it.
     

 
     

7
     
      “I feel so terrible about Lady Cecelia.” Mrs. Lacey finished hanging the last of her laundry on the rope behind her cottage. “Has she improved any?”
    “Nay, ma’am,” Beth said. “Her ladyship can’t move her right side, can’t talk at all. Her doctor doesn’t seem to feel there’s much hope for her to recover.”
    “How awful that must be for the poor woman. She always prided herself on her good health. “
    Beth knew that was true. Cecelia Wiggington was spry for a woman past seventy, but it appeared God had sent her a trial to test her faith. She made a silent prayer that the woman would accept her fate if it couldn’t be changed, and she prayed also for Allison. Almost two months had passed since her elopement with Paul Flanders, and Beth wondered if she had been in touch with anyone who might inform her about her aunt’s condition. “We can’t question His reasons for what He does,” Beth said, and Mrs. Lacey, good Catholic that she was, understood immediately and agreed.
    “Don’t you have any work at the Hall?” Mrs. Lacey asked.
    Beth shook her head. “Miss Allison hasn’t returned, and Lady Cecelia never cared for me. She has her own maid for her things.”
    “Well, thank you for helping me with the wash, Beth girl. You’ve always been like a daughter to me and Sean. Don’t know what we’d have done without you. At least your mother’s bringing you here when you were a tot caused some good. You’ve a grand position at the Hall.”
    Beth concealed an amused smile as a rush of love for Mrs. Lacey washed over her. The woman had no idea how much work was involved in caring for the gentry. Her hands had ached from all the ironing and mending she had done for Miss Allison, but she was pleased that Mrs. Lacey was proud of her and her “grand” post as lady’s maid. “You’ve been like my own parents,” she found herself saying suddenly. “I couldn’t have asked for better myself. Aye, my mother did do a good thing by bringing me here.”
    Mrs. Lacey’s usually bright, friendly eyes clouded. She bent down and picked up the last wet piece of clothing, tossing it across the rope. “I wish I could say something nice about her, but I can’t,