doesn’t matter, Luke. I’ve found out about them. She was unhappy and ill and her husband had died. That was why she gave me away. And,’ suddenly she brightened, ‘apparently she left me a letter. There is a firm of solicitors I’ve got to contact. Who knows,’ she laughed suddenly. ‘Perhaps she has left me a fortune.’
‘Mrs Grant?’ John Cornish appeared at the door of his office and ushered her inside. ‘Forgive me for keeping you waiting.’ He waved her towards a chair and sat down himself at his desk. A slim plastic file lay on the blotter in front of him. He drew it towards him and then glanced up at her. A man in his early sixties, his dark suit and austere manner belied the kindness in his gentle face. ‘You brought your birth and adoption certificates and your wedding certificate? I’m sorry. It’s a formality –’
She nodded and pulled them out of her shoulder bag.
‘And you got my name from Edgar Gower?’
Joss nodded again.
Cornish shook his head. ‘I must say, I have always wondered if you would get in touch. There were only two years to go, you know.’
‘Two years?’ Joss sat tensely on the edge of the chair, her fingers knotted into the soft leather of her bag.
He nodded. ‘It’s a strange story. May I give you some coffee before I start?’ He gestured towards a tray already standing on the table by the wall.
‘Please.’ She needed coffee. Her mouth was very dry.
When they were both served John Cornish resumed his seat and sat back in his chair. He did not touch either the file on his desk or the envelope of certificates she had given him.
‘Your mother, Laura Catherine Duncan died on 15th February 1989. She moved to France from Belheddon Hall in Essex in the spring of 1984 and since then the house has remained empty. Her husband, your father, Philip Duncan, died in November 1963, his mother, who lived in the village of Belheddon, died three years ago and the two sons of Laura and Philip, your brothers, died in 1953 and 1962 respectively. I am afraid to my knowledge there is no close family extant.’
Joss bit her lip. Dragging her eyes away from his face she stared down into her cup.
‘Your mother left two letters for you,’ Cornish went on. ‘One, I understand, was written at the time of your adoption. The other was entrusted to me before she left the country. It had some rather strange conditions attached to it.’
‘Conditions?’ Joss cleared her throat nervously.
He smiled. ‘I was instructed to give it to you only if you appeared within seven years of her death. I was not to seek you out in any way. It had to be your decision to look for your roots.’
‘And if I hadn’t contacted you?’
‘Then you would not have inherited Belheddon Hall.’
Joss’s mouth fell open. ‘What did you say?’ Her hands had started to shake.
He smiled at her, clearly delighted at the effect of his words. ‘The house and its grounds which I believe extend to about ten acres, are yours, my dear. It has been waiting for you. I understand a lot of the contents are still there as well, although some things were sold before Laura left England.’
‘What would have happened to it if I hadn’t contacted you?’ Stunned, Joss frowned. She was still trying to make sense of his words.
‘Then the house was to be sold at auction with its contents and the proceeds were to go to charity.’ He paused. ‘My dear, I should warn you that although enough provision was made for the payment of any inheritance taxes there is no money to go with the bequest. It is possible that you have been left an appallingly large white elephant, and there are conditions and covenants attached to the bequest. You may not turn it down, even though of course you cannot be forced to live there, and, you may not sell the property for a period of seven years starting from the first day you set foot inside the house.’ He turned to the file before him and stood up. ‘I shall give you her letters and leave you alone for a moment while you read them.’ He handed her two envelopes with a smile. ‘I shall be in my secretary’s office if you need me.’
She sat looking down at the two envelopes for several minutes without moving. One was addressed: To my daughter, Lydia. The other had her name – the name she had taken from her step parents, Jocelyn Davies – and the date April 1984.
She picked up the one addressed to Lydia and slowly ran her finger under the flap.
The single page was embossed with the address: Belheddon Hall, Belheddon, Essex.
My darling Lydia, One day, I hope you will understand why I have done as I have done. I had no choice. I love you. I shall always love you. Please God you will be happy and safe with your new mother and father. My blessings go with you, my darling baby. God bless you always.
There was no signature. Joss felt her eyes flood with tears. She sniffed frantically, dropping the letter onto the desk. It was several seconds before she tore open the second envelope. It too was headed Belheddon Hall. This letter was longer.
My dearest Jocelyn. I am not supposed to know your name but there are people who find out these things and once in a while I have had news of you. I hope you have been happy. I have been so proud of you, my darling. Forgive me, Jocelyn, but I can no longer fight your father’s wishes, I have no strength left. I am leaving Belheddon with all its blessings and its curses, but he will only let me escape if I give in. He wants Belheddon to be yours and I have to obey. If you read this letter, he will have got his way. God bless you, Jocelyn, and keep you safe.
Laura Duncan.
Joss read the letter again, puzzled. So, it was her father’s wish that she inherit the house. She thought of the lone grave beneath the oak tree and shook her head slowly.
It was five minutes later that John Cornish put his head around the door. ‘All right?’
She nodded numbly. ‘I’m finding it hard to assimilate all this.’
He resumed his chair and gave her a kind smile. ‘I can imagine.’
‘What happens now?’
He shrugged eloquently. ‘I give you a box of keys and you go away and, as our American cousins say, enjoy.’
‘And that is all?’
‘Bar a few small formalities – papers to sign and so forth – that is all.’
She hesitated. ‘My husband’s engineering company has just folded. He’s been swindled by his partner. There is a chance he is going to be made bankrupt. We’ve lost our house – I won’t lose Belheddon?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry. But this house is yours, not your husband’s. Unless you yourself are being made bankrupt, it is safe.’
‘And we could go and live there?’
He laughed. ‘Indeed you can. Though you should remember it has been closed up a long time. I have no idea what condition it is in.’
‘I don’t care what condition it’s in. It is going to save our lives!’
