"Dawns Prelude" - читать интересную книгу автора (Peterson Tracie)

Chapter 3

Lydia sorted through her jewelry, separating out what she knew to he Gray family heirlooms from the things her husband had bought particularly for her use. She had never cared for any of the pieces. All of them were ostentatious and tasteless, as far as she was concerned. Floyd Gray never did anything out of affection, but rather out of a need to impress those around him. The heavy necklaces of gold and sapphires, rubies and on, and diamonds and pearls had been designed in multiple tiers to capture the attention of others. Matching earrings, too, that dangled long and heavy. Lydia remembered getting headaches just wearing them.

Other pieces were ghastly for the combination of jewels used. They were Mr. Gray's attempt at creativity, but they were truly awful. One in particular was of amethyst, topaz, and emeralds. The jeweler had fashioned the stones in a series of bizarre flowers that encircled the neck on a thick vine of gold. Another piece was something Lydia could only describe as a spider's web of silver with large stones of varying colors sprinkled liberally throughout. When worn, it looked like a strange sort of jeweled chain mail for the neck.

"Well, I certainly have no need of these." She gathered the hideous pieces and secured them in their cases. She would let Evie and Jeannette have them, and if they didn't want them, she would give them to Mitchell and Marston-a sort of peace offering, along with the rest of the home's furnishings.

She had no desire to take anything that belonged to the family or had been given her by Floyd. Certainly not the outlandish clothes he had made her wear. No, she would have several new, more serviceable pieces made before departing Kansas City and leave all of the rest behind.

"I'm starting a new life," she reminded herself. In all honesty, it was more like she was finally being allowed a life. She thought about living in Alaska with her aunt and felt awash in giddiness.

A knock on the door startled Lydia for a moment. It was almost as if someone had sensed her happiness and had come to put an end to it. "Come in." She looked up to find a dour-faced woman nearly twice Lydia 's age at her door. "What is it, Mary?"

"The Gray sons are here to speak with you."

Lydia had been expecting them. After all, it was already half past eight in the morning. It was amazing they had waited this long.

"Very well. Tell them I'll he down directly."

Mary looked at her a moment, then gave a huff and closed the door as she left. Lydia knew none of the servants had much use for her. She had never had so much as a single confidante in the entire staff. They were too afraid. They knew who paid their wages, and they weren't about to alienate the master by cozying up to the wife he despised. No doubt they were all confused as to who held the purse strings now.

Lydia stood and once again surveyed the display of jewelry on her bed. Should she tell Mitchell and Marston her plans? Would they he pleased or just further angered that she should dare to even pretend she had the right to divvy up their father's property?

Making her way downstairs, Lydia knew it would not do to appear nervous or weak. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. It would be hard to stand up to Floyd Gray's sons, but she would manage it.

She found Marston and Mitchell huddled together in the same room where their father had been laid out for the funeral. Gone were all reminders of that hideous day, but Lydia could still envision the scene in her mind.

You took your sweet time in attending us," Mitchell said with a scowl. "I suppose you believe yourself to he somehow in charge, what with the absurdity of the will in question."

"Is it in question?" Lydia asked, her voice strong and clear.

"You know it is. It's just a matter of time before we have this resolved in our favor. Father never intended you to inherit anything that belonged to him. You know that as well as we do."

"I know that your father never thought it possible that he would die."

"Don't act so smug," Marston said, taking a step toward her. "We will see the wrong made right."

"Despite your attempts to set the circumstance in your favor," Lydia began, "I still have no need to concern myself. My father has left me sufficiently able to care for my own needs."

She crossed the room and took a seat in her rocking chair. She folded her hands together and looked up at the men who approached her. They towered over her for a moment, as if hoping to intimidate her. When she said nothing, Mitchell finally sat opposite her, while Marston continued to stand.

"The fact of the matter is you know full well you are not entitled to our properties and businesses, whether they were shared by your father or not. We expect you to accompany us to our lawyer to put an end to this farce."

Lydia could see that Mitchell looked rather nervous. He had a tick just under his left eye, and he shifted his weight continuously as if his seat were red hot. Marston, meanwhile, held his hands behind his back and watched her carefully. Lydia knew he was looking for some sign of weakness in her some chink in the armor she had carefully fitted around her. She felt like prey being watched by a wild animal.

Imagining a strain of a Beethoven pastorale through her head, Lydia calmed. They cannot hunt me anymore. They cannot take away my freedom. She drew a deep breath and met their gazes once again.

"Mr. Robinson is handling all of my legal affairs for me. You may take up this matter with him."

"No. You will come with us," Marston insisted, stepping toward her. "Today."

"Oh, do sit down, Marston." She tried her best to sound indifferent to his approach, but in her mind, she could very nearly feel the blows he so obviously longed to deliver. "I will not be bullied by anyone anymore." The words gave her strength.

Marston looked at her oddly for a moment. He seemed uncertain-almost confused by her declaration. Good, Lydia thought. The prey has fought back. If I can only manage to keep them imbalanced with my reactions, then I will have the advantage.

"We hardly need Mr. Robinson to handle affairs for you," Mitchell finally stated. He motioned Marston to join him on the couch. "Mr. Sterling is far better equipped to deal with this situation. He has represented our father and the Grays' business dealings for the last twenty-some years."

"Perhaps for that very reason I prefer to have my own legal representation. To approach Mr. Sterling," she stated quite logically, "would seem a conflict to his position with you and your desires."

"Not at all," Mitchell interjected quickly. "Mr. Sterling can easily represent all of us. He can clear up the mistakes and see our father's true intentions fulfilled."

"1 cannot say what your father intended, except through the instructions he left behind." Lydia tilted her head as if considering the situation quite intently "Your father was a brilliant man-a solid businessman, well known for his ability to manage his affairs. How could any of us suppose that this matter went unattended by him? Should I honestly believe that your father my husband-had no understanding or knowledge of the law?"

You play a dangerous game, Lydia," Marston replied, narrowing his eyes.

"I play no game at all," she responded. "I was there, you will remember, the day the contract was signed between my father and yours. My wedding day was no more of my choosing than the terms of the will were of yours."

Marston tensed. "It was clearly a mistake and you know it."

Lydia shook her head. "That is hardly a part of my understanding. That is why I have chosen to rely upon Mr. Robinson for assistance in this situation. I am a mere woman of twenty-eight, uneducated and ignorant, as you have so often pointed out. I was forced into marriage with your father as a means to benefit his financial standings. Now that he is dead, I am no longer obligated to such an arrangement."

Marston appeared ready to leap from the couch. "And neither should our father he obligated to that arrangement."

"Your father isn't obligated to that arrangement," she countered. "However, my lawyer assures me that the terms of the wills must he abided by, and I intend to take his counsel. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a great deal to attend to." She got to her feet, not at all surprised that Marston and Mitchell jumped up to stop her.

This dispute is not resolved," Mitchell protested.

She looked at him for a moment and nodded. "I am sure you arc correct, but at this juncture, I can do nothing more. Mr. Robinson is the one to whom you should speak. He clearly has studied the wills and has approached the finest legal minds in the area for their counsel. I believe it would benefit you both to sit and discuss his findings at length with him."

With that, she left both men gap-mouthed. She'd never seen any Gray man at a loss for words, but it was clear Mitchell and Marston were confused by her reaction. The prey had managed to escape to live another day.

"I don't understand why this should be so difficult," Marston began. Nash Sterling seemed to wilt a bit in his chair. "We've bought off people before."

"That was before the politics of the town shifted. You know how hard it has been these last few years. Your father was always ranting…" He paused, as if realizing he was about to say something completely inappropriate. "Well, you know how it angered him. Anyway, all of that to say, there is little I can do. No one is willing to risk the wrath of those in charge."

"Cowards," Mitchell declared.

"Be that as it may," Sterling said, "it is what we are up against. We can tic things up for a while-have the legal documents reviewed and assessed for any inconsistencies. But in the end, I believe the result will be the same."

"All right. So if it can't he done legally," Marston began, "perhaps we can do it illegally"

"Bribing a judge and paying off people at the courthouse is illegal," Sterling countered. "What else do you have in mind?"

"I believe what my brother is implying," Mitchell said carefully, "is that people often change their minds when a threat or ultimatum is delivered. We have incriminating evidence and information on nearly every judge and lawyer in this town. We have sworn statements on dozens of powerful men, along with witnesses who will swear to whatever we ask of them."

"And you believe, after the well-known business affairs of your father and the very public announcement of his death and funeral, people are simply going to let this come to pass?" He shook his head. "Robinson is no fool. He has already enlisted the help of a great many people. He has taken the will quite seriously. He knew the details before I did."

"Then you are a fool," Marston replied in anger. "I blame you for not helping my father to see a way out of this mess."

Sterling frowned and tightened his expression. "If I were you, I would find a way to work with your stepmother rather than antagonizing her. Surely she has little desire to be the decision maker at a casket production company. She is quite young and may even remarry, and then she will be less concerned about her well-being.-

"But that is exactly why we need to resolve this immediately," Mitchell declared. "She might very well marry, and then the Gray fortune will pass to her husband's control. We will never see a dollar returned to us. Once word gets out that she has a vast fortune at her fingertips, men will flock to court and woo her."

"As I said, perhaps the trick is to win her over. Show your concern. Explain to her that the weight of such a responsibility will only cause her misery. Maybe start by simply offering to oversee things for her. Tell her you'll report to her and let her know what's happening."

"I suppose it's worth a try," Mitchell said, looking to Marston for his opinion.

Marston knew it wouldn't work. Lydia had already started to show a hit of backbone. She was slowly but surely learning to stand on her own two feet. It hadn't been long since their father had died, but Lydia seemed to be transforming before their very eyes.

"We can only try," Mitchell encouraged. "Perhaps we can have Evie help us. Lydia has always liked Evie."

Marston nodded, not yet willing to share his thoughts on the matter. "It's possible. We shall give it consideration and see if a plan can be developed." Marston didn't miss the look of relief in Nash Sterling's dark blue eyes. Imbecile! If he'd done his job properly, they wouldn't be in this mess.

Leaving the office, Marston was in no mood for his brother's fretful conversation. "I have been careful with my own investments, but this may not bode well for my family We might he forced to reconsider our standard of living," Mitchell confessed.

"Bah, please be quiet," Marston said as he climbed into the carriage. "Nothing is going to change. We simply have to find a way to fight hack to win." He eased his hat down over his eyes as if he intended to sleep on the ride home. " Lydia is not going to tell us what to do. She has no idea of our strength and resolve."

"Do you suppose she'll really want to remarry-after all she's been through?"

Marston pushed his hat hack. "Why do you say that?"

Mitchell looked almost embarrassed. "Well, we both know our father was not the easiest man to live with. Maybe Lydia doesn't like being married."

"Women don't know what they like or dislike. They really have no mind for such things. They understand entertaining and raising children but are otherwise useless unless properly trained. Father was simply attempting to make her acceptable to society"

Shrugging, Mitchell fell hack against the leather upholstery as the carriage merged into traffic.

Marston considered something he and Mitchell had discussed once before. "If I could force her to marry me, then there would be little difficulty in regaining control of our money"

"But wouldn't society frown upon such an arrangement? She is our stepmother."

"It would have to he dealt with carefully. Perhaps we could enlist the help of the girls. They could put it out among their friends and social circles that Lydia is distraught and unable to go on with life. My marrying her would be done purely out of a desire to see her safe and assured of her position."

Mitchell chuckled. "But one word from Lydia would put all of that nonsense to rest."

Marston gave his brother a smug smile. "But she has to be able to talk and to be out in public in order to share such thoughts."

His brother raised a brow and nodded. "And then perhaps in time, Lydia could simply do herself in as our mother did."

"Why not?" Marston replied. "Weak women do it all the time." He glanced out the window feeling hope for the first time in a long while. "I believe this crisis may resolve itself quite easily after all."