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Authors: The Marquess Takes a Fall
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mother and cook, which impressed Lord Ashdown, who was accustomed to see children and cooking left to the servants.
And the possessor of a lovely, rounded body, which the marquess tried to avoid thinking about overmuch, although there was nothing he could do about the vividness of his dreams.
No, Mrs. Marwick was definitely worth taking pause. He had enjoyed himself more during these past few weeks at Tern’s Rest than he could remember doing in years.
The second reason—
But he did not want to think about the second reason right now.
* * * *
“Mrs. Marwick,” said the marquess, as he reached the kitchen.
She turned and her beautiful eyes narrowed. “I thought you were to call for help first,” she said.
He grinned at her. “I know,” he admitted cheerfully, and reached for one of the kitchen chairs.
“Oh, heavens, stop.”
She hurried over to the marquess and helped him into the chair. The touch of her fingers on his arm stung like fire.
Chapter 12: Cousin Wilfred
Dr. Fischer was as confused as Fiona.
“Wilfred Thaxton? I’ve never heard of the man.”
Dee’s family had lived in Barley Mow for generations. His own father had done what doctoring was possible thereabouts without an education, and the Fischers, generally speaking, knew everyone.
A cousin, of course, might not be from the area. A distant cousin might live anywhere.
My dear Mrs. Marwick—
Wilfred Thaxton claimed to be the eldest son of one Phillip Meyer Thaxton, who was in turn the son of the aunt of her husband’s great-grandfather Bertram. He lived in Croydon, near London, and had only just learned of the sad death of Joseph Marwick.
“That makes no sense,” said Dee. “Joseph has been gone for years.”
Fiona agreed, but there it was. Mr. Thaxton was married, had three children, and was arriving soon—the precise timetable was not made clear—to investigate the state of Tern’s Rest. His own property.
I hope this does not inconvenience you excessively. The house and land were entailed,
of course, and I must admit to being surprised that I was not notified earlier of your
husband’s death. I will be happy to allow an adequate period of time for you
to locate another residence.
“The man can barely write a legible script,” commented Dee. “Fiona, this must be a mistake.”
But both of them had worked through to the end of the letter, in which Mr. Wilfred Thaxton assured Mrs. Marwick that he would bring with him all the documents and proofs of identity that she might require.
“An entail! Joseph said nothing of such a thing. The will left the property outright to me and to Madelaine.”
Dee looked thoughtful. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “we should ask Lord Ashdown.”
Fiona was horrified. “Lord Ashdown! Why?”
“I would have said that entails are the province of wealthy families—or titled ones. Perhaps he knows more of the law.”
Fiona would not hear of it. She could not bear the thought of having Colin Ashdown learn anything of her impending humiliation and once again she fought back tears. Joseph had said nothing, had given no hint that the cottage was anything other than her own. But this man—this cousin —claimed to have the necessary documents.
The position of a woman in these matters was always weak.
“Fiona, I promise you, we will get to the bottom of this. This Wilfred Thaxton, whoever he is, will not take your home.”
She shrugged in both anger and despair, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. Even when her husband had died and she’d been left alone with a baby, there had always been Tern’s Rest.
“And if not—”
She looked up at Dee with eyes that were suddenly clear. “Oh, no,” said Fiona. “We’ve been through this before.”
“I cannot be that bad,” he teased her. “Would it be so awful for us to marry?”
“Not for me, perhaps,” she countered. “But someday you will fall in love.”
Dr. Fischer was amused.
And the possessor of a lovely, rounded body, which the marquess tried to avoid thinking about overmuch, although there was nothing he could do about the vividness of his dreams.
No, Mrs. Marwick was definitely worth taking pause. He had enjoyed himself more during these past few weeks at Tern’s Rest than he could remember doing in years.
The second reason—
But he did not want to think about the second reason right now.
* * * *
“Mrs. Marwick,” said the marquess, as he reached the kitchen.
She turned and her beautiful eyes narrowed. “I thought you were to call for help first,” she said.
He grinned at her. “I know,” he admitted cheerfully, and reached for one of the kitchen chairs.
“Oh, heavens, stop.”
She hurried over to the marquess and helped him into the chair. The touch of her fingers on his arm stung like fire.
Chapter 12: Cousin Wilfred
Dr. Fischer was as confused as Fiona.
“Wilfred Thaxton? I’ve never heard of the man.”
Dee’s family had lived in Barley Mow for generations. His own father had done what doctoring was possible thereabouts without an education, and the Fischers, generally speaking, knew everyone.
A cousin, of course, might not be from the area. A distant cousin might live anywhere.
My dear Mrs. Marwick—
Wilfred Thaxton claimed to be the eldest son of one Phillip Meyer Thaxton, who was in turn the son of the aunt of her husband’s great-grandfather Bertram. He lived in Croydon, near London, and had only just learned of the sad death of Joseph Marwick.
“That makes no sense,” said Dee. “Joseph has been gone for years.”
Fiona agreed, but there it was. Mr. Thaxton was married, had three children, and was arriving soon—the precise timetable was not made clear—to investigate the state of Tern’s Rest. His own property.
I hope this does not inconvenience you excessively. The house and land were entailed,
of course, and I must admit to being surprised that I was not notified earlier of your
husband’s death. I will be happy to allow an adequate period of time for you
to locate another residence.
“The man can barely write a legible script,” commented Dee. “Fiona, this must be a mistake.”
But both of them had worked through to the end of the letter, in which Mr. Wilfred Thaxton assured Mrs. Marwick that he would bring with him all the documents and proofs of identity that she might require.
“An entail! Joseph said nothing of such a thing. The will left the property outright to me and to Madelaine.”
Dee looked thoughtful. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “we should ask Lord Ashdown.”
Fiona was horrified. “Lord Ashdown! Why?”
“I would have said that entails are the province of wealthy families—or titled ones. Perhaps he knows more of the law.”
Fiona would not hear of it. She could not bear the thought of having Colin Ashdown learn anything of her impending humiliation and once again she fought back tears. Joseph had said nothing, had given no hint that the cottage was anything other than her own. But this man—this cousin —claimed to have the necessary documents.
The position of a woman in these matters was always weak.
“Fiona, I promise you, we will get to the bottom of this. This Wilfred Thaxton, whoever he is, will not take your home.”
She shrugged in both anger and despair, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. Even when her husband had died and she’d been left alone with a baby, there had always been Tern’s Rest.
“And if not—”
She looked up at Dee with eyes that were suddenly clear. “Oh, no,” said Fiona. “We’ve been through this before.”
“I cannot be that bad,” he teased her. “Would it be so awful for us to marry?”
“Not for me, perhaps,” she countered. “But someday you will fall in love.”
Dr. Fischer was amused.
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