Page 48 of Hold Me Fast
Her friends all nodded, and Jowan commented, “I wonder if Wakefield might have a way to investigate how much Coombe has stolen from you.”
“You should counter-sue him for stealing your earnings,” Patricia suggested.
Jowan’s expression of fury slowly changed to a broad smile. “What an excellent response to his suit against you,” he said.
“I’m not a lawyer,” Bran said, “but I would warrant that his failure to give you any earnings due under a contract, if there is such a contract, is a full defense to any claim that you are in breach for leaving.”
“You need a solicitor,” Jowan declared. “Do you want to make an appointment with the man we’ve been using in Launceston? He will at least be able to advise us on what steps you should take next.”
“This,” Bran waved the letter, “was filed in a London courtroom. Our man will probably refer you to someone in London. You should go and see him today, Tamsyn.”
“The wedding is in a few days, and we have a great deal to do,” Tamsyn objected.
But Evangeline declared that sorting out Coombe was more important than folding table napkins, which was part of Tamsyn’s list for the day. “In fact, Patricia and I will come upstairs with you now, if you like, and help you go through your mother’s things. Then you can take it to show the solicitor. Jowan, send a groom to Launceston to make an appointment for this afternoon.”
*
It took themless time than expected. Whoever had been in charge of the packing had written an inventory and placed it at the top of each chest, so once Bran had pried out the nails, they soon found the one with “Asst’d Papers” marked on it.
They carefully unpacked the chest to remove the top three layers and then divided the papers that filled the rest of the chest into three piles, each taking a pile to search through.
The listings on the inventories included linens, china, and other things that would be useful once Tamsyn moved into the cottage. She also noted several items that brought back childhood memories. “Blue and White Cow Mug.” She had loved that mug when she was a little girl. “Silver T-Pot.” It had been her mother’s pride and joy, and Tamsyn had felt so proud when she was first trusted with polishing it.
She made a mental note to ask for the chests to be moved to the cottage when the repairs were completed. No doubt everything would need to be cleaned, and some items would need to be mended, but she and Patricia had been given a fine start to their housekeeping.
Not that she wanted to leave Inneford House and Jowan, but it was necessary. She had seen how he looked at her when he did not think anyone was watching. His desire for her was great, but not, she was certain, as great as hers for him.
One night, when everyone was asleep, her longing for him would become too strong. She was certain Jowan would welcome her to his bed, just as she was equally sure he would regret it afterward, and blame himself for treating her with disrespect.
As if a person with her history deserved respect! And yet, Jowan had never made her feel he despised her for her dissipation and debauchery. Bran had, at first, though he had since become a friend. So had Evangeline, who had, after all, seen her at her worst. But never Jowan. She would have loved him for that alone.
“Here they are,” said Patricia. She handed Tamsyn a sheaf of papers tied with string.
The outside label said, “Tamsyn’s contracts.”
It was easy enough to untie the string. The plural was appropriate. The package contained three contracts—the original, signed when Tamsyn was sixteen, a second when she was eighteen, and a third shortly after her twentieth birthday.
“This says that Coombe would keep fifty percent of my earnings for my keep, clothing, music lessons, and his services as my manager, and the other fifty percent would be sent to my mother,” she said to her friends. “So, what happened to that money?”
Evangeline waved her hand to the rest of the papers. “Perhaps there is something else in these.”
Tamsyn nodded. “I had better take everything down with me and go through them all, in case there is something else that helps.”
“We’ll just repack the chest,” Patricia said and began picking up the wrapped items they had removed. With all three of them working, they soon had the floor cleared again. They each carried a stack of papers downstairs to the library. Tamsyn set herself up on the big library table, and the other two left her to it.
By the time Jowan came to call her to lunch and to tell her that they had an appointment in Launceston at three that afternoon, she had found a pass book for a Plymouth savings bank with quarterly payments that must be the earnings mentioned in the contracts and a staggering balance.
She also had two letters from Coombe’s solicitors concerning the contracts they had already found, and half a dozen letters from Coombe to her mother reporting on Tamsyn’s success and advising against making any contact with Tamsyn.
Those were all she had found concerning Coombe, but she wanted more time to consider other parts of her mother’s life, as disclosed in the papers she had kept. For example, a handful of letters from her father to her mother, all dating to the early years of their marriage.
“My father was a sailor in the navy,” Tamsyn told Jowan. “I never knew. Mother would not speak of him.” The last letter had been written when Tamsyn was three and sent from somewhere called Bangalore. Tied in with the same bundle was a letter from Samuel Roskilly’s captain, sending his condolences on Roskilly’s untimely death of yellow fever.
Over lunch, she told Jowan and Bran about the contracts and the passbook.
“That bank has an agency in Launceston,” Bran told her.
“Bring the passbook, Tamsyn. We’ll have to show your mother’s death certificate and evidence you are her sole heir, but I know where those papers are. They might have to send to Plymouth to find out what has become of the account, but we can at least set matters rolling.”
