Page 43 of Unseen

13

THE READING OF THE WILL

Monday 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 frownedas 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 thatwould 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.”

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