Page 21 of Unseen

THE READING OF THE WILL

M onday morning came, bringing with it more rain, and the dreaded reading of the will.

It was hard to imagine that merely a week ago, I’d been full of hope, certain of what my future held, where I would be going. I’d been sending enquiries out for houses. I was going to be a wealthy widow in Leicester.

And now, this week, I was a captive.

Mary, sweet unassuming Mary, helped me into my laughable widow’s uniform.

I still hadn’t the heart to tell her. How could I?

She smiled at me so warmly as she did up the buttons, caring for her kind mistress.

What would she do when she knew? What would any of them do, when they discovered just what kind of dress I’d be wearing the very next morning?

“The lawyer should be here any moment,” Mary said softly as she secured the last of my braids to the back of my head. “I’m sure it’ll be a relief to you, madam, to finally have your affairs in order.”

I gave her a weak smile. “Certainly.”

“Have you decided which house to take yet?” She frowned as she secured the black crepe ribbons to my sleeves. “Only I saw the enquiries on your desk, and they all sound ever so lovely.”

“Not yet, Mary.” I sighed, gazing out the window at the endless rain. “I shall make my decision this afternoon.”

“Of course, madam.” She stepped back with a satisfied nod, admiring her handiwork. “Mr Caine has ordered a special dinner tonight, said he wanted to celebrate with you.”

My eyes slammed closed, and I flinched. I’d barely seen Azriel since the assault in the bathroom, only glimpses of him, like a shadow, like a demon, like a ghost that haunted this house.

I was sure he’d crept into my room, for when I’d woken yesterday before church, my nightgown had been sticky and soiled, just as his trousers had been.

The very thought of him stealing into my room and abusing himself over me while I slept was so vile, I clutched a hand to my mouth.

Mary rushed forward, clearly alarmed. “Oh Madam, you do worry me so.”

I was unable to speak, simply held out a hand, trying to assure her wordlessly despite feeling that I would surely retch all over the bed.

“All this upset, it’s not good for your health.” She took my hand and tutted softly. “Come now, I’ll fetch you some water, and you may collect yourself for a moment. And then, we’ll go down to the drawing room.”

“Thank you, Mary,” I finally croaked. “But I am well. Let us go, I would not wish to keep Mr Fisher waiting.”

I descended the stairs to the sound of raucous laughter, which felt so ludicrously out of place for an occasion such as this. I wanted to turn tail and go straight back to my room. I did not want to face him. I did not want to sit in the same room as this cursed man .

But I squared my shoulders, and entered the drawing room.

Mr Fisher looked like a lawyer. From his beady eyes to his ruddy cheeks and his too-round stomach, he oozed privilege and ignorance.

The way he leered at me reminded me yet again why I hated men.

Even in my widow’s garb this man could not hold himself back from gawping at me, no doubt imagining what I looked like in my stays.

No wonder he and Azriel had been laughing so heartily together. They were of the same ilk, for my stepson, and soon-to-be husband, leered at me just the same - no, worse. For he had knowledge of what I looked like underneath this dress, and meeting his eyes made my cheeks burn with shame.

“Evie, my beloved… stepmother.” The pause was so deliberate, delivered with a twinkling eye as Azriel stepped forward to take my hand. “You look so pale. I was just telling Mr Fisher how I worry for you.”

“The way you two were laughing I had thought I had strayed down the wrong stairs and had ended up in a pub.” I fixed Mr Fisher with a displeased glare, looking the stout man up and down. “This is a house of mourning, perhaps we should all behave accordingly.”

Mr Fisher cleared his throat, shifting the brown leather briefcase in his hands. “Begging your pardon, madam, we simply wished to bring some levity to the house in this, your time of sorrow.”

“A widow knows no levity, Mr Fisher.” My eyes moved to Azriel. “I am not sure I will ever know levity again.”

Azriel’s satisfied smirk made me wish I had simply sliced his throat that night.

But then I eyed the briefcase in Mr Fisher’s hand, wondering if this was the lawyer that held that loaded envelope, guarding my deepest secret.

The one that would see me dead. This foolish oaf perhaps held my life in his hands, and he did not even know it.

“All that being as it may, perhaps today will bring you all some much needed closure.” Mr Fisher smiled amicably, his gaze moving from me to Azriel, and he lifted the briefcase. “If you please, madam.”

“Come, Evie.” Azriel gently took my arm, and I resisted the urge to flinch away from him. “Let us sit."

I perched on the chaise, Azriel taking his place beside me. It was too close for my liking, but a decent enough distance so as not to arouse any suspicion. He was playing the part of the dutiful stepson, acting out his role just as well as I. Except, I suspected he was enjoying this ruse.

Mr Fisher lowered himself onto an armchair as he rifled through his briefcase, producing a thick brown leather-bound file. He manoeuvred a pair of spectacles onto his piggish face, flipping the file open and scanning it slowly, then looking back up at us with an amicable smile.

“Now, as you both know this is the last will and testament of Acton Josaiah Caine, born May 17th, 1797.”

The year sounded ludicrous. I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. How could my family have let me marry a man that wasn’t even born in this century?

Mr Fisher cleared his throat, and my eyes flew open to find him gazing at me over the rim of his spectacles.

“Madam? May we continue?”

I nodded eagerly. “Of course, forgive me.”

“My stepmother is taking this all rather hard, as you can imagine.” Azriel reached over to take my hand, and I dug my fingernails into his palm. But the bastard didn’t even flinch, simply looked at me sweetly. “To be a widow so young, it is truly a burden she is bearing most beautifully.”

“She is lucky to have such a devoted stepson, Mr Caine.” Mr Fisher looked from Azriel back to me with adoration, before his eyes dropped to my breasts, then back to the papers in front of him.

“The last will and testament was signed before myself and my associate, Mr Carrington, and was made while Mr Caine was of sound mind. Therefore, this will and testament shall stand as written.”

Just bloody get on with it. Azriel’s hand was still curled around mine, and I dug my nails into his skin again, wishing I could raise that hand to my lips and bite one of his fingers off.

The fiend instead pressed the heel of his palm into my lap, and rubbed my thigh.

I could barely feel it through my dress, but it had my back ramrod straight and rage drying out my mouth so my tongue felt as though it was made of sand.

How could he be so brazen in front of another? It was not to be borne.

He pulled his hand back just as Mr Fisher once again raised that fat little face to look at us both.

“I shall now read the will as dictated by Mr Caine himself. These are his final wishes.” He cleared his throat ceremoniously.

“To my son, Azriel Dorson Caine, I bequeath my house, Linmere Manor, and its lands. Also to my son, Azriel Dorson Caine, I leave my companies and estates as listed by Fisher, Carrington and Associates.” Mr Fisher lifted a list with his other hand.

“The leases therein listed are to be kept as stated.”

Uneasiness whispered up my spine to the hairs at the back of my neck. Mary had surely tied my stays too tightly. I put a hand to my ribs, shifting in my seat.

“Furthermore,” Mr Fisher went on, and I breathed a little sigh of relief. “I leave to my wife, Evangeline Thomasina Caine, the jewels in her possession, and the tapestries of my Mother, Albertine Caine.”

I waited, the seconds ticking by. Mr Fisher’s eyes darted over the pages, and then he placed them down on the file, leaning back in his chair and regarding us both with a smile.

“And that would be that then.”

My head spun, and my throat was now so dry I felt as though I was choking on broken glass.

I tried desperately to clear it, to speak, wishing for nothing more than that glass of water Mary had offered, and some way through the black haze that threatened to swallow every word I attempted to sputter out.

I gestured to the file with a shaking hand. “M-Mr Fisher, there is more.” I nodded eagerly, staving off the tingling sensation that stretched through my limbs. “Please, sir, I am sure there is more.”

“There is nothing more, I assure you.” Mr Fisher raised the papers in his hand, showing me that he had read from the two pages, and one held Acton’s flourish of a signature at the bottom. “This is what Mr Caine dictated to us when he made this will last year.”

“Last year?” My stays were strangling me now, and I clutched a hand to my stomach. “No, there must be a mistake. Mr Caine made this will upon our marriage, he made assurances to my father. It was all arranged.”

Mr Fisher’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I assure you, madam, any previous will is now null and void.”

I was going to faint. I forced myself to maintain my breathing, shaking my head but stopping instantly as black spots danced in my vision.

“No, you don’t understand. My husband, god rest his soul, made assurances to my family, and to me. He had set aside funds for my family home, and for me, in the event of the birth of any children, or my widowhood. I saw him sign both copies, one of which is in my father’s possession.”