A sympathetic murmur from the women went around the room.
“—and had been for some months prior to my traveling to see him—”
“Estep? Captain Paul Estep?” the earl interrupted.
Gemma blinked in surprise. “Yes?” she hedged, wary.
“I knew him. He was probably the most disreputable scoundrel in the Horse Guard and they have more than their share. You actually married that man? He never acted married.”
Dear God, this was a terrible turn, and Gemma decided only the truth was her ally. “No, he didn’t. And yes, by all accounts, including mine, he was a scoundrel.” She braced herself, waiting for Lord Marsden to reveal to one and all the disgraceful way Paul had died.
He didn’t. Instead, he nodded. “Go on with your story.”
“My uncle wrote back and this is his letter.” She held the letter up. “He expressed his condolences and then informed me that what was his is mine. That is what he says in this letter.”
“A letter?” Mr. Shielding challenged boisterously. “No will? Only a letter? Well, then there is our case. A letter is not a will.” He smiled his superiority. Mr. Thurlowe stood with his arms crossed. He didn’t pay attention to Mr. Shielding but watched the earl.
“May I see it?” Lord Marsden asked. She handed the letter to him and he took his time reading it. That might have been necessary. Andrew had not had the best penmanship.
At last, he placed the letter on the table and looked to Mr. Shielding. The earl’s manner had undergone a change from under-the-weather rakehell to a man in control of his intellect. “Mr. Shielding, you are serving as the spokesperson for the other side? Or will it be Mr. Thurlowe?”
“You are the lawyer,” Mr. Thurlowe said to his compatriot.
Mr. Shielding was happy to take charge. “Our case is simple, my lord. The Logical Men’s Society has been using The Garland for close to fifty years. It is our home, as it were. We believe Old Andy wished the building to go to us. Furthermore, I say again, a letter is not a legal will.”
“No,” the earl agreed. “However, a letter of one’s wishes does speak to the man’s intentions. Is that not true, Mr. Shielding?”
The lawyer looked uncertain. “His wishes are best outlined through a will.”
“Or a letter of one’s wishes,” the earl answered. “We are here to determine what Old Andy wanted, will or not.”
“Property should not be left to a female.”
“That old saw?” The earl shook his head. “Many women in this country own property. Some purchase it themselves and others inherit it. Your views are outdated. Furthermore, The Garland is not some grand estate, although if Mrs. Estep keeps making her improvements, such as curtains, it may begin to look like one.”
Mr. Shielding frowned. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting the earl to be so reasoned, especially in Gemma’s favor.
Neither were the women in the room. Eyebrows were raised in surprise and lips lifted into smiles of hope.
Mr. Thurlowe spoke up. “May I address the matter, my lord?” The doctor and Lord Marsden were great friends. Gemma held her breath for what Mr. Thurlowe would say against her.
He didn’t mince words. “Then the question is, what were Old Andy’s wishes? He purchased this tavern from your father, my lord. Did they not have an agreement?”
Lord Marsden sat back in his chair. “Actually, my father lost The Garland in a game of cards to Andy, and they did have an agreement. Andy was to allow my father to drink his fill whenever he wished.”
“And to use The Garland as the base for the Logical Men’s Society, no?”
“Father supported the Society. He was a member when he was single. However, when he sold the tavern to Andy, he was married to my mother. So he was not a member. Such is the problem with our rules of membership. You know, having to be a bachelor or widower and all that?”
“But your father didn’t disapprove of the Society,” Mr. Thurlowe pressed.
“No, my mother did.” That drew laughter from the ladies.
“She did,” the dowager chimed in.
Mr. Thurlowe ignored them. “Andy was a member of the Society. We were his friends. He wanted it to go to us. I’m even willing to pay Mrs. Estep for her claim, either valid or not.”
“I understand your position,” Lord Marsden said. “However, this letter says differently. Andy’s intent according to his own hand—and we can all recognize it, few people had a scrawl like Andy’s—is that whatever he owned, which includes The Garland, he wished to go to his niece.”
There was a pause of dead silence.
Gemma could scarcely believe her ears.
“It is my judgment that Mrs. Gemma Estep is entitled to the tavern and all its contents.” Lord Marsden rapped the table in front of him with his empty tea mug as if he had a gavel, and it was done.
She owned The Garland.
Gemma wasn’t the only one stunned, but then a great cheer went up from her supporters. Both Clarissa and Mrs. Warbler put their arms around Gemma and gave her a squeeze.
Several of the Society members had things to say that were not congratulatory, but no one paid attention to them. The duke opened the door. With a nod of his head, he silently ordered them to follow him, and out they stomped. The door’s merry bell tinkled its goodbye.
Gemma saw the dowager watch her son leave. The duchess frowned and then sighed heavily as if there was some burden there. As she turned, her eye caught Gemma’s. “We won,” she mouthed.
Beside her, Clarissa murmured, “I wonder why Lord Marsden was so reasonable. It is certainly out of character.”
“Well, today is a good day for him to turn a new leaf.” Gemma moved to Lord Marsden, who was listening to Mr. Shielding carrying on about the “unfairness” of such a verdict and how it would destroy good order in the village. The earl seemed to welcome her interruption.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said. “Thank you.”
“We will challenge this,” Mr. Shielding declared.
“That you can,” the earl agreed. “But why?” He’d risen from his chair in that lazy way of his and offered the letter to Gemma, who gratefully took it. “I’d keep that safe if I were you,” he told her, before addressing Mr. Shielding. “There will be a circuit riding judge from London through here sometime soon. You may put your petition to him. Or give it your all and take the matter to Chancery Court. Of course, it will cost money.”
“But we could try.”
“Yes, you may. Still, the result will be the same. Andy wrote an eloquent Letter of Wishes. He was my friend, and I shall honor it. Now, I find a need to search out my valet. I’m also certain that Gibson, my secretary, and a host of others have tasks they have been waiting for me to perform. If you will all excuse me?” He didn’t travel too far to the door before Mrs. Warbler stopped him by practically wrapping her arms around him.
“You have saved our village,” she declared.
Lord Marsden acted embarrassed by the hug and from there beat a hasty path out the door.
“I have sherry at my house,” Mrs. Warbler announced. “Please, everyone, come and join me for a toast to a new day in Maidenshop.” She led the way out the door and many followed.