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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Northern Exposure - 75. Chapter 75

June 26, 1801

London, UK

 

Granger, Cavendish, Scruggs, Daventry, and Rosslyn were enjoying a light conversation in the drawing room when their attention was distracted by Cheevers. “Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk,” his deep voice boomed as Granger’s parents walked into the room. Granger strode over to them and gave his father a rather cold and stiff greeting, while he was much more effusive with his mother. “I am so glad you could work dinner and these other matters into your busy schedules.”

“I would not have missed it,” his mother said with a slight twinkle in her eye. She liked a bit of drama and was obviously expecting some this evening. “I am so sorry that you are having to deal with Caroline’s scandalous behavior. If you had reached out to me, I would have helped you however I could.”

“I know that, mother,” Granger said, taking her hands in his and smiling at her warmly. “My path was clear, and it has been an almost automated response."

"I can also appreciate how difficult it must have been for you to return from a long voyage to find yourself in such a situation, while at the same time being unsure of who you could trust,” she said, casting an evil eye at his father, who merely stood there placidly.

“That has been the handicap under which I have been operating,” he said to her, even as he directed a withering look at his father. “Come, let me pour you both a drink.” Granger could sense both the anger and the guilt from his father but had neither the time nor desire to try and alleviate those emotions.

He poured them a glass of some of his French wine, only to be interrupted by another announcement. “The Marquess and Marchioness of Preston,” Cheevers announced. Granger detached himself from his parents to welcome his brother and Davina to his home. His parents had dressed quite conservatively, something between the outdated fashions in Russia and the current trends in Britain. Freddie dressed much like them, while Davina was much more avant garde.

“How pleasant to see both of you,” Granger said, which was a blatant lie, but he’d decided such dissimulation was allowed when dealing with dinner guests.

“We are glad to be here,” Davina said, speaking for both of them. She seemed to eye his townhouse with a combination of admiration and envy. “I am so sorry to hear about Caroline.”

“Thank you,” he said, but did not elaborate as she seemed to want him to.

“If there is anything either one of us can do to help, you have but to let us know,” she said. She was trying to sound noble, like a good family member, but Granger knew that Davina detested Caroline and was probably secretly bouncing with joy over their separation. Granger suspected that she’d go after Caroline and then expect him to appreciate her self-serving efforts.

“I appreciate your support during this difficult time,” he said. With all his guests there, Granger led them into the dining room. Everyone greeted everyone else, and then food was served. Dinner was a bit tense with the reading of the will hanging over their meal like a scythe.

That tension was soon relieved by the arrival of the children. “We have a new family member,” Granger announced. “This is Matheus von Fersen, the son of Count Axel von Fersen.” The young man seemed less terrified than Granger would have expected, while everyone, even Freddie and Davina, were warm in welcoming him. Granger watched as his father doted on William, while his mother was much more focused on Charlotte and Elizabeth. After a quarter of an hour’s interlude, the children were whisked away by their nannies, leaving the guests in better spirits.

After that, Granger’s mother and Davina enlivened the conversation, proving that they were both good hostesses. Daventry, Cavendish, Rosslyn, and Scruggs responded to them in a lively way, while Granger’s brother and father, on the other hand, were only conversational enough to hide their dour moods. It was a pleasant time, but not a good time.

When they had finished eating, Granger stood up to get their attention. “This is the time when the ladies and the gentlemen usually separate, but I thought that since we have to deal with Lady Kendal’s estate, we might forgo that and move to the drawing room, where Mr. Scruggs can enlighten us.”

“Why George, I think that is a wonderful idea,” Davina chirped flirtatiously, and that seemed to decide things. They filed into the drawing room to find seats already arranged in a semi-circle facing Scruggs. Davina sat on a stool with Lord Rosslyn in a chair on the other side of her. “If I had known you were inviting your lawyer, we would have brought our own solicitor.” The words she spoke were typical of her, partially flippant but mostly menacing.

“I must beg Your Ladyship’s pardon,” Rosslyn said gallantly, “but I am not representing Lord Granger. I am here because His Majesty asked me to attend.” Davina, Freddie, and the Duke looked as if they’d been punched in the stomach, but they recovered quickly enough. Granger knew that his father would quickly understand what Rosslyn’s presence meant, but suspected his brother would not so easily comprehend things.

“Giving us your company this evening was a most generous gift from His Majesty,” the Duchess of Suffolk said graciously, showing just how smooth and refined she was.

“I am glad Your Grace thinks so,” Rosslyn said playfully.

Granger took his seat in between Daventry and his mother, then looked at Scruggs. “Let us begin.”

“Your Graces, my lords, my lady,” Scruggs began, “I worked with Lady Kendal for the past three years on how her estate was to be handled. She was most explicit in explaining her desires.”

“Well as a recluse, she had little enough to do anyway,” Freddie said, getting an annoyed look from the rest of them, which didn’t seem to even register with him. It was stunning to Granger how his older brother seemed oblivious to how his comments were received by the group of people he was with.

Scruggs ignored him. “Lady Kendal requested that I read a letter from her in lieu of reading the actual will. I plan to honor her wishes, noting that what she writes mirrors what is in her will.”

None of the others objected, so Granger opted to move things forward. “That is fine,” he said.

Scruggs nodded, then began to read the letter: “Mr. Scruggs, upon my death I direct you to proceed with the settlement of my affairs as instructed in this letter. As you know, I have left two separate wills. As we have discussed, my tenants have become my family, and the most important thing to me is that they be able to continue to live their lives peacefully. As many of them are Catholic, and their ability to worship in that faith is of primary importance to them, I need to ensure that my heirs will respect their ability to worship as they choose. You are therefore directed to ascertain whether my nephew, George Viscount Granger, would be sympathetic to their plight. I am trusting you to make that decision solely based on your own instincts. If he is, you will read the first will, and destroy the second. If he is not, you will read the second will and burn the first.”

“This is why you needed to meet with George before you could read the will,” the Duke of Suffolk noted.

“It is, Your Grace,” Scruggs replied.

“And did you decide that George would indeed befriend these Catholic tenants?” Freddie asked with a sneer.

“I had a lengthy conversation with His Lordship, my lord, and I am convinced that he will honor Lady Kendal’s wishes,” Scruggs said. Granger was impressed with how well he was handling this complex situation. His attitude was both firm and respectful.

“And what happened to the second will?” Davina asked. It was easy enough to see her plan. She would fight in court to overrule the first will and rely on the second, which was presumably more favorable to her and Freddie.

“I burned it as instructed, my lady,” he replied.

“That was a rash and inappropriate thing to do,” the Duke pronounced.

“I disagree, Your Grace,” Rosslyn said. “He has clearly followed Lady Kendal’s directives.” That certainly didn’t make the Duke happy, but he had little choice but to acquiesce.

“So you asserted your love of these papists?” Freddie asked Granger nastily.

“I do not think it is my place to interfere in the relationship between a man and his god,” Granger replied, leveling his most intense stare at his brother who almost recoiled from it. “I have always had that conviction and continue to hold it. That is what I told Mr. Scruggs.”

“I think that is a most admirable approach,” the Duchess replied, and patted Granger’s hand in support. “I think Lord Rosslyn’s opinion on this matter is as firm a ruling as we can get, and that Mr. Scruggs should be allowed to press on.” The others gritted their teeth and gave subtle nods.

Scruggs then continued reading from where he left off. “If you chose to read the second will, you may discontinue this letter and read that document without embellishment. I am confident, however, that you will not have to. I have seen nothing in my nephew George to suggest that he was not a good and caring landlord, and I am convinced that he will fight for his tenants despite any political pressures that may try to derail him.”

“That is quite an endorsement by her ladyship,” the Duchess said to Granger. He squeezed her hand to thank her. It suddenly dawned on Granger that she had positioned herself to support him. She’d done that physically, by sitting next to him and taking his hand, and verbally by statements just like this one.

Scruggs nodded, then went on. “I am leaving properties with an approximate value of £50,000 to provide a dowry for my late husband’s niece, Catherine Parr Lindsay. That bequest is contingent on her father giving Viscount Granger guardianship over her, and I am also appointing Viscount Granger as trustee of that dowry.”

“I have never met this young woman,” the Duchess noted.

“Her father had, up until recently, deemed it appropriate for her to be educated at home, your grace,” Scruggs explained. “It caused a rift between her father and Lady Kendal, and has left Miss Lindsay a little backwards as regards polite company. Her ladyship was hopeful that Lord Granger would be able to help her find her way in society and into a good marriage.”

“I think I am much better placed to do both of those things,” the Duchess asserted. “I will make Miss Lindsay my charge.”

“Thank you, mother,” Granger said. The last thing he needed was to worry about a teenage girl.

Scruggs continued: “I leave the rest of my estate to my nephew, George Viscount Granger, with the exceptions noted in the following paragraphs in this letter. I would convey to my other heirs that while I am confident that I can trust George to ensure my tenants are well cared for, I am just as convinced that they would fail miserably at that mission. My brother, the Duke of Suffolk, would sell them down the river in a second for political benefits. My nephew Freddie, the Marquess of Preston, would probably torture them because they were Catholic. My other nephew Bertie, Lord Blakeney, is much too self-absorbed to worry about them.”

“Just as we thought,” Freddie said to the Duke. Granger and his mother, both furious, stared at them in disbelief.

Scruggs ignored the extreme tension Freddie’s comment provoked and read on. “George, you have been a beacon for this family. You are honorable, handsome, charming, and well-liked. Your career has brought the family riches and glory. But like the leech that he is, your father has siphoned off all that political capital for his own benefit. More than anything, he owes his dukedom to you, but he is too vain to admit it.” Granger actually thought that was a bit unfair, but opted not to say anything because he was so furious at his father. “Freddie is even worse. He will reap the benefits of your labors when he inherits the dukedom, but in the meantime, he will try every trick he can to cheat you out of what is rightfully yours.” It was all Granger could do not to smirk at his brother. He wished Bertie were there because Bertie would have laughed out loud. “Perhaps Bertie had the right idea by going to India and escaping from their grasp, although I am confident that they will still do everything in their power to steal his riches,” Scruggs continued, then paused.

“That is insulting!” Freddie said, almost a yell.

“It is also true,” Granger said to him bloodlessly. The Duke and Freddie gave him truly evil looks.

“It certainly is,” the Duchess agreed, and tried to fry them alive with her eyes.

Scruggs hurried to continue before a fight broke out. “By leaving most of my estate to you, George, I suspect that combined with your existing wealth, you will now be richer than the combined wealth of both your father and Freddie. I am doing this so you can found your own dynasty. I am hoping that you will make sure your heirs do not trade their honor for temporary preferment.”

“I will do that,” Granger said, mostly to himself.

“To my brother, the Duke of Suffolk, who gained his title and position on the back of his younger son who he treats with such disregard, and who made my life a living hell when I was younger, I leave my large mirror. In that way, you will have to periodically gaze at yourself and contemplate what a horrible person you are,” Scruggs said.

“I have no need of her mirror,” the Duke said haughtily.

“And to my nephew Lord Preston, I leave a smaller mirror that will serve the same purpose. You remind me of your father when he was younger, when he was devoid of any principles, morals, or empathy. The only one in your family worse than you is your wife, who is nothing more than a bloodsucker, latching on to people and bleeding them dry,” Scruggs said.

“Those words are false,” Davina exclaimed loudly. “I have done nothing to merit such reprobation.”

“Perhaps, dear, you should search your memory a bit more,” the Duchess said. “I think then you will see that Lady Kendal’s words were not so far off the mark.” Granger saw Daventry and Cavendish trying not to smile, and it almost made him break out laughing.

“I think that is unfair,” the Duke said, although no one was sure if he was talking to his wife or referring to his sister’s scathing letter, so his comment was disregarded.

“To my nephew Bertie, I leave my home on Lake Windermere,” Scruggs continued. “It is beautiful, surrounded by green hills and blue water. I am hoping that when he returns to England, he will enjoy it and it will convince him that such an abode will make him much happier than returning to India.”

“That was very thoughtful of her,” the Duchess noted.

“To my sister-in-law, the Duchess of Suffolk, I leave a lifetime annuity of £5,000 per year,” Scruggs continued. “You did as much as you could to make my brother less reprehensible, and briefly brought him to the point where I almost liked him. I felt that by ensuring you had your own income, I would give you some degree of independence from his tyrannical rule, and when he finally dies, it will protect you from penury as your son Freddie will not even begin to think of making sure you are taken care of in the style that you deserve. And to my sister, Lady Gatwick, I send my bona fide wishes that she rot in hell.” It was all Granger could do not to laugh at that. Scruggs went on, reading off several small bequests to her friends and retainers, then he was finished.

“How much is her estate worth?” Freddie asked Scruggs.

“After these bequests are removed, it should generate an income in excess of £40,000 per year, my lord,” Scruggs answered. Everyone gasped at that. It was a huge income, over twice as much as Granger currently made and £10,000 more than he’d guessed it was worth. She had made Granger one of the richest men in the realm and had pronounced a scorching judgment on the Duke and his eldest son.

“She always was a horrible shrew,” the Duke spat.

“We will need a copy of the will so that our attorneys may review it,” Davina said in her frosty way.

“I will inform His Majesty that you are taking legal steps to overturn the will,” Rosslyn said to her. “I feel it important to tell you that he will not be pleased.”

“Well, it seems that I have more to gain through lawyers than by trying to garner his favor,” Freddie said petulantly.

“I think you will gain nothing from your lawyers other than excessive legal fees,” Rosslyn said. He turned to Granger. “I must thank you most earnestly for a wonderful dinner. Your chef was all that I had dreamed he would be.”

“Thank you,” Granger said, and shot his most charming smile at him. “I will pass on your compliments.”

“Then I will bid you, as well as the rest of you, a good evening,” Rosslyn said, and began to walk to the door.

“Rosslyn,” the Duke said. “I hope you will consider that my eldest son’s words were said in haste, and at a time when he was most agitated.”

Rosslyn turned back and gave him a patronizing look. “Perhaps, Your Grace, he can convince His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland to intervene on his behalf.” And with that he strode confidently out of the room. Granger glanced at Daventry and Cavendish to see them working hard not to laugh out loud at this whole scene.

“I wonder if owning a manor house on a lake will be enough to persuade Bertie to return to England,” the Duchess speculated, typically thinking of her favorite son.

“I do not think it will be enough to drag him away from his harem and his riches,” Granger said to her with a smile. “I think, rather, that it will be something he thinks about and imagines. It will serve as a sort of mental escape from the hell that India is in the summer.”

“So who gets to use it while he is living overseas?” Freddie asked in his graceless way.

“I would suspect that is up to Bertie,” Granger said. “If you hurry and write to him first, perhaps he will grant you that privilege.”

“Very funny, George,” Freddie snapped. “We are leaving.”

“A good evening to both of you,” Granger said, as Freddie and Davina dramatically stormed from the room.

“It is certainly not good form to taunt your brother,” the Duke said, scolding Granger.

“Indeed,” Granger said, controlling his anger. “Freddie noted that Lady Kendal’s will was settled just as the two of you suspected.”

The Duke glared at his son, not because he was angry, but because he was cornered. “It was just idle speculation on our part.”

“Was that before or after the two of you tried to get me to agree to overturn her will and split things three ways, and to completely cut Bertie out?” Granger asked sarcastically.

“Thank you for dinner,” the Duke said, dodging the question, and headed toward the door. “Are you coming, dear?”

“Of course,” the Duchess said. She winked at Granger, then gave him a huge hug, one that was completely out of character for her. Granger had been very disturbed by the conflict this will had caused in his family, but having his mother land firmly on his side had largely restored his emotional balance. He watched them both leave, shaking his head as they did.

“That was a most interesting evening,” Daventry observed. That seemed remarkably funny to Granger, and he started laughing, causing the others to laugh as well.

“Begging your pardon, my lord,” Scruggs said. “What impact will the King have on this? I sensed that your brother was not worried about him.”

“I can answer that,” Daventry said. “His Majesty has been pelted by the Duke and his supporters to award Lord Preston the Lord-Lieutenantship of Bedfordshire. That effort has now been firmly defeated.”

“Exactly,” Cavendish agreed. “I am surprised Preston could not read the subtext of Rosslyn’s presence.”

“He seems oblivious to the reactions of people around him, and of the way things work,” Granger said, shaking his head sadly.

“This much is certain,” Daventry agreed. “You were quite wise to avoid reaching an agreement with them prior to the reading of this will.”

Granger rolled his eyes in frustration. “It was not wisdom, it was honor. I would be quite vexed if, after I was dead, I looked up from the depths of hell and saw my heirs plotting to overturn my will.” They laughed at that.

“Speaking of that, my lord,” Scruggs said with a grin, “I should warn you that the terms of her will extend for three generations. Your heir and his heir will both have to pledge, as you have, to not mistreat the tenants on the land Lady Kendal has given you, especially based on their religion.’

“I am unconcerned about that,” Granger said. “If I and William do such a bad job of raising our children, it will be a deserved punishment.” Granger also knew that enforcing such a clause beyond this current generation was almost impossible, but opted not to point that out.

“I have a list of all of Lady Kendal’s properties, my lord,” Scruggs said. “Her estate agent, Mr. Brooklands, has handled her affairs for the past ten years. Begging your pardon, but he may be worth retaining.”

“I shall have to meet him, but more importantly, my estate manager, Mr. Broadhead, should evaluate him,” Granger said. He had given Broadhead the responsibility of managing his empire, such as it was, and this was no time to begin breaching his chain of command.

“Of course, my lord,” Scruggs said. He tried to hide his disappointment but was not entirely successful. Granger found himself getting suspicious, wondering if Scruggs and Brooklands had some sort of nefarious partnership. He caught himself before he slid down that uninformed and judgmental road, and forced himself to remember that, to all accounts, Scruggs had watched out for his interests in this whole affair and had given Granger no reason to question his integrity. Still, the two of them would bear watching in the future. He returned his attention to Scruggs who was still speaking. “If you will pardon me, I would like to get to bed. I will have some filings to complete in the morning, and then I had planned to return north on the day after tomorrow, if that meets with your approval, my lord.”

“That is quite alright, Mr. Scruggs. I will see you tomorrow,” Granger said. He had thought about trying to lure Scruggs into the baths tonight, but opted to leave him alone.

After he left, Granger turned to Daventry and Cavendish. “I am not sure that was what I had expected,” referring to the will.

“I was fairly convinced that your aunt would leave you most of her money,” Daventry said. “I was not ready for the vitriol she poured on your father, your brother, and your sister-in-law.”

“I was impressed with how well informed she was,” Cavendish replied. “She seemed to have a good feel for your entire family.”

“You do not think she was just a bit harsh?” Granger asked. “My father has served the King faithfully, and has been by his side for many years. It was not just my efforts that propelled him to a dukedom.”

“George, you are being a bit naïve here,” Daventry scolded. “If His Majesty had made your father a marquess, it would have been reasonable to credit that promotion to his own efforts. His promotion to a dukedom was due to your successes.”

“Daventry is right,” Cavendish said. “He owes his position to you. Based on Freddie’s comments, and your father’s reaction, it appears that they were hoping to ensure the larger portion of Lady Kendal’s legacy went to them and not to you.”

“Considering what your father owes you, that was a most disloyal way for him to act,” Daventry said, completing the thought.

Granger grimaced briefly. “I am hoping that he understands how irritated I am with him, and I hope he can find clarity and explain things to my brother. At the same time, I have my hands full dealing with my wife, and I need him to at least be benign in this process.”

“It would be hard to see your father siding with Caroline,” Cavendish said. “I think if he did, he would end up destroying his own marriage.”

“I doubt my mother would react that severely,” Granger said dismissively.

“I disagree,” Daventry said. “Your mother is very refined, and it is difficult to discern her true feelings, but tonight I could almost feel her total anger and outrage over this whole affair.”

“She did not seem outraged when she left,” Cavendish pointed out.

“She had pasted on her façade by then,” Granger said, pondering his mother’s reaction. “She has always been very defensive of Bertie’s interests. I am not surprised that she was angry that there was an attempt to cut him out of things.”

“I sensed that her outrage was more on your behalf than Bertie’s,” Daventry said.

“Perhaps,” Granger allowed. They left him alone to ponder that. His father had been the rock in his life, while his mother had largely focused on Bertie. Had the dynamic changed? Had she replaced Granger’s father as his great ally in the family? A somewhat flummoxed George Granger headed off to bed.

Copyright © 2017 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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