Where there's a will . . .

It seemed months had passed, but in only a short time, a message was sent to me that my father's solicitor, Mr. Warren, wished to meet with me.  He gave me the option of coming to the manor, but the idea of the servants witnessing my potential downfall, should the Baron have amassed sizable debt, gave me pause, and I sent word ahead with a rider that I would be at his office at the opening of business the following day.

In the early hours, I stepped into the carriage and in a few short hours, we arrived at his place of business. He offered me tea, but I was nearly ready to jump out of my skin; I politely declined and asked that we simply get to the matter at hand.  

He laid a scroll out on the top of his desk and I tried to remain calm as he began to speak.  In truth, I understood very little.  Words like "codicil" and "testamentary" were beyond my grasp.   I struggled to keep my countenance serene, and even managed to dab at my eyes numerous times; so great was my frustration that the tears were real.  I longed for my freedom.  I could see it, just outside of my vision, and in my mind, as the foreign tongue of legality was spoken, I tried to close it out, fearful of unhappy news.

Finally, he came to the point.  "I must apologize for the lengthy preface, Baroness," he began, "but these matters must be seen to with great care."   I waited, perched on my chair and he continued "The long and the short of it, is that the Baron had planned to leave a rather large chunk of his estate to a woman named Katie."  My heart stopped beating.  I knew that it was the wretched maid of whom he spoke; the very one who told of my plans to flee to Belgium with Edward. I nearly moaned aloud at the thought of his name... to think of that at such a time only added salt to my wound.  I was dumbfounded.  The Baron must have kept the little shrew as a concubine, and his intentions were to give her what was due to me, his wife! I nearly screamed, but Mr. Warren continued "However, his plans were interrupted by a message from the regiment that he should travel to the colonies at once, and so you see... he never did have time to make that change.  And so you are left with... " he paused, reaching for his quill and quickly wrote something down, passing it to me as he said "sometimes, seeing a number, rather than hearing it, holds more gravity."

I looked at him, confused and merely accepted the slip of paper as it was pushed towards me across the surface of his desk.  I held the paper down, and tilted it, to capture the candle light and what I saw rendered me speechless.

The Baron had been a very successful businessman, this I knew.  He had managed to ingratiate himself with merchants of all nations, despite his ill manners, and was well known for his adeptness in trade.  He had done quite well for himself, indeed.  I expected to perhaps double my inheritance and be able to live somewhat comfortably, but this . . .  I had never seen a number such as this.  It began to creep into my mind that I was now a very rich woman.

No.

A very rich free woman.

I thanked Mr. Warren for his time, and asked how soon I might be given leave to use this money as my own, and he informed me that the banks had already been alerted.  I then advised him that I should very much like to purchase a new home closer to a port, for being in the Baron's manor only brought memories of my dearly deceased husband to mind, and the sea always put my mind at ease. He nodded, fully understanding that I was merely going through the motions and called in a man; a James Harley, who would be seeing to that matter, personally.  Mr. Harley explained to me that there was a particular estate in Southampton, just north of Portsmouth, that might fit my needs.  I advised him that I would be packing some things as soon as I arrived home, and making my way down that very evening; I added that my caretaker would see the estate first, and if he deemed it worthy, I too would visit it and make my decision.

Several hours later, and after sending word ahead of my carriage that I should like my trunks packed, I found myself standing outside of the manor.  The breeze off the lake sent my mourning veil in motion, as I looked around one last time before climbing into the carriage.  My trunks were set and secured atop the coach behind, and the carriage shook slightly as the horses were urged forward.  I turned to watch the manor disappear behind the thickening woods, as we moved onto the south road, and soon enough it disappeared.

I leaned back a moment, and carelessly lifted the veil, pulling it from my hair and letting it drop to the floor of the carriage as my foot moved forward and I dared to dream of the glories of my new-found freedom.