‘Very well, I shall indeed cut to the chase, Mr Sutton. The entire estate, ownership and management of Wychwell, manor, lands, residential and commercial properties et cetera belongs to Miss Marnie Salt. That fast enough for you?’
Marnie heard her name but her brain didn’t register anything else because it was all too much to take in. Not even when the babble arose, not even when all eyes were turned to her and the air was so full of déjà vu she could barely pull it into her lungs.
‘I knew it. It was her all along, the duplicitous bitch,’ Titus shouted.
Marnie’s head grew suddenly light to the point of dizzy, as if she had fallen from a great height at breath-taking speed with ten-kilo weights tied to both legs.
‘Let me explain,’ said Mr Wemyss, his booming voice crushing the cacophony. ‘Lilian Dearman left Wychwell to Emelie Tibbs, Emelie bequeathed it upon her death to Miss Salt.’
‘Emelie Tibbs?’ spat Titus with disbelief. ‘Why would Lilian have left it to her? If that doesn’t prove the stupid old cow was not of sound mind, nothing can. Hence the will must be null and void.’
‘Because Emelie was her friend, Mr Sutton,’ said Mr Wemyss, adding with heavy sarcasm, ‘an unknown quantity to you, no doubt.’
‘So Lilian the loon left my forefather’s estate to a bloody foreigner? A Naz—’
‘Don’t you dare.’ Lionel was on his feet, his arm extended. ‘Don’t you dare call Emelie that word or disrespect Lilian’s name again.’
‘Well you would defend her, wouldn’t you?’ laughed Titus. A cruel, derisive sound, totally devoid of humour. ‘You were in love with Lilian Dearman all your bloody life. Strange how Wychwell has ended up with her now, isn’t it?’
As Titus nodded towards Marnie, Lionel lunged at him, his intention clear. Had Herv not thrown himself in the way, Lionel’s fist would have been covered in Titus’s nose.
Mr Wemyss, calling for calm from the front of the room, had no chance. He might as well have been Canute ordering back the sea.
‘Bloody lunatic,’ said Titus, straightening his waistcoat. ‘I’ll be contacting the bishop about your behaviour. Now – and in the past. And you know what I mean by that, Lionel Temple.’
‘You vile man,’ Lionel roared at him and even Herv had difficulty holding onto him.
‘Come on, Hilary,’ Titus strode past them all towards the door and beckoned his wife with a series of finger clicks. But Hilary did not budge an inch, she remained seated with her handbag resting on her knee.
‘Hilary,’ he demanded.
‘No, I’m not going anywhere.’
Titus stopped in his tracks and glared at her.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Hilary stared him straight in the eye and said, ‘You heard me. I’m not going anywhere.’
Humiliation thrown in with nonsense was too much for Titus who made a grab for his wife’s wrist. He was pulling her from the chair until Marnie karate chopped him mid-arm and he was forced to let go with a yelp. She noticed that Herv had moved to her side, ready to wade in, if required.
‘Hilary. Now.’ Titus was grinding the words through his teeth.
She was resolute. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Then you won’t be coming back at all,’ he snarled and threw open the door so hard that it banged into the wall panelling.
‘You’re right. I won’t. I’m leaving you.’
The room fell silent. A sea of jaws dropped open.
‘Whaaat?’
Hilary, in a cool, quiet voice, with no shake in it whatsoever, repeated every syllable slowly so it sank in.
‘I. Am. Lea. Ving. You.’
Realising she was serious, Titus immediately switched from a bullying track to a face-saving one. He looked his wife up and down imperiously and sneered.
‘Not before time, you ridiculous creature.’ He took a step out of the door but Hilary’s next words arrested him.
‘At least I’m not a thief.’ Then she stood and addressed herself to everyone. ‘I had no idea of the extent of my husband’s corruption. I had no idea he had taken your monies and invested them in idiot schemes, I had no idea he had been stealing from the estate, draining Lilian’s finances, creaming from the very people in whose midst we live until I started my own investigations recently. I cannot bear to think you must all have thought me as guilty as he is and I will make sure, I promise you, that you will get every penny back that he has embezzled from you.’
Titus’s face grew so red, it was a wonder it didn’t burst into flames. He opened his mouth to protest, decided there were no words so turned on his heel and was gone from them.
Hilary didn’t so much sit back down as collapse on the chair as hubbub erupted on a grand scale. Mr Wemyss let it continue for a while, hoping it would burn itself out, but it didn’t so he brought his fist down hard on the desk and said, ‘Now that particular scenario has ended, I’d like you all to bugger off so I can speak to Miss Salt in private.’
Chapter 46
The room emptied silently like an assembly hall full of admonished children. Marnie couldn’t look at them as they filed out. Her focus fell on the cabinet full of Lilian’s artefacts once broken and mended with gold. Imperfectly perfect. Or was it perfectly imperfect? Lionel was last out of the door. He closed it gently behind him and gave her a smile of support.
‘Come closer, dear,’ said Mr Wemyss, beckoning her forward from the back of the room to the chair which Titus had occupied, still warm from his great fat body. ‘I expect this has come as quite a shock to you.’
‘Bit of an understatement,’ she answered.
‘Congratulations, Miss Salt. You are now the Lady of the Manor of Wychwell. You can’t sell it, of course, but the revenue it raises will all be yours and your heirs’. I understand you are already quite au fait with its potential.’
Marnie’s mouth opened to ask questions, but it was as if they were all rolled up into a hard ball that refused to budge from her throat.
‘Why . . . why me?’ was all she eventually managed.
Mr Wemyss pulled out an envelope pressed between the pages of his notebook. It bore Marnie’s name on the front, in old lady spider scrawl.
‘This should explain. Or, at least lead to the explanation.’
‘Can I open it now?’
‘Be my guest.’
Marnie hesitated. This, she suspected, was a life-changing moment. This was when she found out if she was a Dearman herself. If it was more than coincidence that she shared the dark, green-eyed looks of the woman who had her portrait on the staircase and that her birth date matched that of Lilian’s pregnancy. Her heart felt as if it was beating in her mouth when she slit the top of the envelope open with her finger. She lifted out the heavy hammered sheet of paper, unfolded it and read.
My dear Marnie,
If you are reading this, then I am with you no more. But I die knowing that Wychwell is in the safest of hands, of that I have no doubt now. Lilian was right to trust you.
I have written the full story in my journal, but let dearest Lionel tell you, in his own words, about us.
I wish you a long, healthy and happy life and one full of love. God bless you.