“No!” Cassandra lunged toward the fire and knelt next to it, but the note was positioned behind leaping flames. There was no way to reach it. Enraged, she stood and turned. Tears burned, but she would not cry. Not in front of this man. “Your father—our father—wrote me that letter. Nothing will change that fact. And I am Cassandra Hale, and I have spent my entire life wondering where exactly I come from. And now, thanks to Mr. Longham, I know. Whether you like it or not does not change it.”
Mr. Clark widened his stance and leaned forward, towering over her, undoubtedly attempting to intimidate by size. “And what do you think will happen? That you will inherit land from my father? Nah, I’ll never believe you are Cassandra Hale. For all I know, you are just an actress hired by Mr. Longham to get the money.”
“It is not about money.” Her voice shook with ire. “It is about truth.”
“Ah, is it? So I suppose if I offer you money to leave and never come back, you’d refuse it? Doubtful.” He jerked open a drawer full of banknotes. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement. You can walk out of this countinghouse a very wealthy woman. You would just need to sign an agreement never to return.”
She looked at the banknotes. It was more money than she had ever seen.
But it wasn’t right. None of this was right.
She was no longer intimidated. Fury and frustration replaced any such sentiment. “I am not about to sell the truth about myself.”
“Foolish woman.” He slammed the drawer closed and approached her, so close she could smell the brandy he’d just consumed and the dust from the courtyard, and forced words through clenched teeth. “You, madam, are not my sister.”
At length Mr. Longham stood, his tone sobering. “She’s named specifically in the will, Clark. Fight it if you will. It won’t change matters.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt there is a Cassandra Hale somewhere. But this woman? No. Where is the proof?”
“I have my own personal statement and testimony as your father’s man of business, not to mention the documentation.” Mr. Longham lifted his satchel. “Every bit of it. It is all in order. Signed by your father. Signed by her mother.”
“Papers? Hogwash. I’ll fight this in court.” He pointed his forefinger first at Mr. Longham and then at her. “Neither you—nor you—will ever see any of my father’s property.”
“It’s not the money you are worried about, is it?” Mr. Longham’s voice was impressively even. “You’re not going to get the land, if that is what you are thinking. You’ve seen the will; you know it as well as I. Miss Hale had three years to inherit. If she did not, then the Stricklin estate would have three years to lay claim. And then it would go to you, but only as a last resort when all other options have been exhausted. It goes either to her or to the Stricklin estate. It’s what your father wanted.”
“And who is going to press the issue? You?” Peter Clark sneered. “What’s in it for you to go and drum her up? Or the estate, for that matter? You must be getting something.”
“I made a promise to your father.”
“Bah. I don’t trust you, Longham. Furthermore, I don’t believe you. You have something to do with this. Something to gain. Oh, I’ve read the will. So has my solicitor. If the land is not claimed after a six-year period, it reverts to the estate, which I’m inheriting. It’s all right there. Leave it alone. For all I know, you wrote that sham of a letter yourself and started this whole debacle.”
Cassandra stiffened. She had trusted Mr. Longham from the beginning, but Mr. Clark’s words struck a chord. She had no proof that Mr. Longham was truthful either. In her eagerness to have answers, she had accepted blindly.
Mr. Clark’s sharp tone recaptured her attention when he pointed a thick finger at her. “I don’t know who you are or where you come from, and honestly, I don’t care. But if you are putting any trust in this man, your faith is misguided. I wash my hands of this matter entirely. You stop spreading rumors about my family, or you will pay. Pay dearly.”
* * *
Stunned and dismayed, Cassandra eased back against the carriage seat as they departed the countinghouse and headed home toward Briarton Park.
The conversation with Peter Clark drummed in her mind. The animosity. The disbelief. The fact that he burned the letter from her father. She’d expected him to resist her and to protest Mr. Longham’s words, but his reaction was more turbulent than she could have imagined. Furthermore, Mr. Clark had planted seeds of doubt toward everything Mr. Longham had told her. Uncertainty, even more potent and vicious than before, swirled within her.
As if sensing her distress, Mr. Longham expelled a long sigh and patted her gloved hand with his own. “Don’t let this discourage you, Miss Hale. I’m not in the least surprised at Peter Clark’s behavior, vulgar as it was. I’ve been a solicitor long enough to know that inheritances cause a great deal of turmoil in even the most basic of cases, let alone one with unusual circumstances like this.”
“You said he’d be argumentative about it”—she tried to avoid saying too much until she worked out her thoughts—“but there was much I’d not considered.”
Mr. Longham retrieved a pipe from his coat. “My business is in the letter of the law, Miss Hale, not in managing family dynamics, but here’s what I know to be true. Your father had regrets and altered his will to include you to attempt to make amends. I have all the paperwork to satisfy a court, so please, do not fret. No doubt you were taken aback at Peter Clark’s outburst, but I was not. I fully intend to see this through and fulfilled as soon as I get to London.”
“I still have so many questions. Who’s Mr. Stricklin?”
“Edward Stricklin was the man who gave your father his first loan that allowed him to build his first mill—Tutter Mill. It’s the mill that was forced to close due to debts. Edward Stricklin’s been dead for years, but Robert had always intended for the land to go to him, or at least to his family, by way of repayment. But in his later years he decided it should go to you instead. Since we could not locate you initially, he amended the will in the days leading up to his death to state that if you did not claim the land and then the Stricklin estate did not claim the land, then it would default back to the Clark estate and Peter Clark would manage it. It is all quite detailed and would easily be overlooked, and that’s what Peter is counting on—that no one will pursue the details and that time will pass, allowing him to become the owner of both the business and the land.”
She bit her lower lip in contemplation. “I just don’t understand how that would work. How can I own the land and he owns the business on it?”
“It is quite a simple arrangement, on paper at least. Like any tenant leasing land from a landlord, the mill would pay you rent for occupying space on your property. You will receive a rather hefty sum regularly that will allow you to live very comfortably. And if the business should go under, the land will always belong to you. By the way the will is written, the land cannot be sold for fifty years after his death. You will always have income. Your father actually protected you.”
Cassandra shook her head. “No wonder Peter Clark is upset.”