Page 8 of Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay
‘I can’t believe that,’ I say incredulously. ‘This is the twenty-first century we’re living in, not the fifteenth. We’re fighting for women’s rights all over the world, but this is still going on in our own country. How can that be?’
Benji sympathetically nods his agreement.
‘But why are you tellingmethis, Benji?’ I ask. ‘And what did you mean about this Earl being forward thinking?’
‘Yes, as I said, the tenth Earl of Chesterford realised that something like this might happen somewhere down the line, and although he couldn’t change the law that said a male must inherit a title, hecoulddictate where his money and his estate would go in the future. So he decreed that if a suitable male heir could not be found that was a direct descendant of the family, then the next appropriate female would be allowed to inherit both the castle and any monies that went with it, but not the title.’
‘Okay . . . ’
‘So that is where you come in, Amelia. You are indeed the next appropriate female and you will inherit both the castle and the estate of John Crawford Chesterford, the seventeenth Earl, to run as you see fit. But your son, Charlie, as the next direct male descendant, will in fact inherit the last Earl’s title and now becomes the eighteenth Earl of Chesterford.’
Four
‘Whoa!’ I say, holding up my hand. ‘Stop right there. That is never going to happen. I will not be inflicting that noose around my son’s neck. Nah-ah, not now, not ever.’
‘Whether you choose to accept the estate or Charlie chooses to accept the title,’ Benji says calmly, ‘he is still the eighteenth Earl by birth.’
‘Look, Benny, Benji, whatever your name is,’ I say, trying, but not succeeding very well, to control my fury, ‘I thought when I rang you that you were going to tell me I’d inherited something. At best I hoped it might be money. At worst I thought it might be a dog.’
Benji grins, then changes his expression to one of severity when he realises that this time I’m not joking.
‘But now you’re telling me,’ I continue, ‘not only have I inherited a draughty old castle somewhere, but my son has inherited some rich man’s privileged shroud too?’
‘I hardly think it’s a shroud,’ Benji begins.
‘Well, I do. Charlie is being brought up to believe that everyone is equal. No one is better than anyone else. Titles only exist to emphasise the opposite. Calling someone Duke or Countess, or whatever it is, immediately makes them different. It makes them think they’re above normal folk, those that aren’t born into privilege, and I won’t stand for it. I might not be able to change this country’s heritage, a heritage that dictates we all must have a class, but I can make damn sure my son doesn’t buy into all that pompous nonsense.’
I sit back in my chair again, breathing heavily. I’ve let rip on one of my soapbox topics, and Benji has borne the brunt of my wrath.
‘Have you finished now?’ Benji asks calmly, looking at me across the table with a steady expression.
I nod.
‘Good. As a matter of fact, I happen to agree with you. I might be a historian by trade, but the British class system is archaic, out-dated and obsolete. I detest it as much as you do.’
I look at Benji in astonishment. I hadn’t expected him to say that.
‘However,’ he continues, ‘as much as I detest the class system, I think our country’s history must be preserved as much as humanly possible – and that includes houses and buildings of historic interest. You may only see Chesterford Castle as a money-making opportunity, but you must remember, Amelia, that it is not only your family history inside that house, but our country’s history too.’
I’m impressed by his impassioned speech.
‘Now,’ Benji continues in a friendlier tone, his own rant over, ‘you may think I’m speaking out of place here, and by all means tell me to mind my own business if you like, but the situation you currently find yourself in is hardly ideal, is it?’
‘How do you mean?’ I ask cautiously.
‘I mean you’re a single mother with a young son to raise. You live in a tiny council flat in a tower block that should have been demolished years ago. You have little money and no prospects of getting much more any time soon.’
I look down at the table uncomfortably. Benji knows far too much about me for my liking.
‘Your parents have both sadly passed away, you have no siblings and no inheritance of your own. You are over-qualified for the job you do currently, but you can’t get a better one because of childcare issues, even though I believe you ran your own small business for a while a number of years ago?’ He looks at me questioningly. ‘Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong on any of these counts.’
‘How do you know about my qualifications?’ I ask suspiciously. ‘And my recruitment business.’
‘Amelia, it’s my job to know these things. You graduated from university with an honours degree in business and economics, yes?’
I nod.
‘Yet you are currently working as a part-time check-out assistant in a supermarket?’
