where the solicitor thanked her for answering his summons so promptly.
“My companion fears I must have suffered some grievous financial reverses,” Belle said as she took the seat he indicated. “I hope you are not about to inform me that my investments have taken a sudden fall on the ’Change.”
Returning her smile, the lawyer shook his head. “Quite the contrary, actually. I have the pleasure of informing you that you have been named chief beneficiary in the will of the late Richard Maxwell, Viscount Bellingham. The estate itself, of course, is entailed upon a cousin. However, except for small bequests to his wife and daughter, Lord Bellingham left the whole of his cash assets, the value of which is still being calculated, as well as all his unentailed property—a Suffolk manor, a Lincolnshire hunting box and a London town house—to you.”
Belle stared at the solicitor, unable to credit what she’d just heard. “There must be some mistake!”
“’Tis irregular, given that you had no link by blood or law to the deceased, but nonetheless quite legal. And no mistake. His late lordship’s solicitor spent most of yesterday afternoon with me, expounding on the details.”
“But…why?” Belle asked, more than half to herself. “He knew I had sufficient means to support myself, should anything happen to him.” Her brow knit in perplexity, her shock turned to suspicion as she tried to puzzle out Bellingham’s reasoning. “How much did he leave his wife and daughter?”
“Two hundred pounds each. Whereas his overall cash assets are estimated to be about twenty thousand pounds.”
“Twenty thousand—” Belle echoed. “Why, ’tis infamous!” As an explanation for Bellingham’s extraordinary bequest flashed into her head, irritation gave way to sheer, mindless rage. Jumping to her feet, she began to pace the office, too furious to speak.
“Apparently,” Smithers said blandly, “Lord Bellingham wished to guarantee that you had more than ‘sufficient’ support. You are now an extremely wealthy woman.”
“Who,” Belle said, pausing long enough to glare back at the solicitor, “is therefore much less likely to take a new protector to supplant him.”
As Mr. Smithers prudently refrained from comment, a vivid memory of an angry scene recurred to her. Belle, incensed and guilty at the thought of a sixteen-year-old daughter abandoned by her father, threatening to leave Bellingham if he did not honor his responsibilities to his kin by returning to reside, at least outwardly, with his family. Bellingham countering that if Belle ran away, he would neglect his relations entirely to search for her. They’d reached a stalemate of sorts, Bellingham refusing to give up living with her but agreeing to visit his wife and daughter more regularly.
This, then, was her late protector’s attempt at checkmate—a permanent, legal spurning of his despised wife in preference to her, done in such a manner that she could neither dispute with him over it nor refuse it.
Once again he was trying to take over her life, mark her as his own, and force her to dance by the strings he controlled—even from beyond the grave.
She could almost hear the vicious whispers circulating through the ton when the terms of his will became known.
The sense of lightness that had buoyed her after Bellingham’s death melted away and her chest began to tighten with the same crushing weight of enforced obligation that she’d endured for almost seven years.
Even as she felt she must scream in vexation, an inspiration occurred. Perhaps there was a way to evade checkmate. She whirled to face Mr. Smithers.
“The bequest is legally mine—funds, property, all?”
“Yes. In an effort to protect the widow and daughter, Bellingham’s solicitors spent several weeks trying to find a way around the will’s terms, to no avail. The legacy is definitely legal, and indisputably yours.”
“And ’tis mine to handle as I choose?”
“Yes, though I would recommend, with such a vast sum and numerous properties, that you retain an agent to advise you on the management of it.” Smithers lifted a brow, curiosity in his expression. “Have you something in mind?”
“My own accounts are in good order, as we discussed last month? You did not then foresee any difficulties in my being able to live modestly for the rest of my days.”
The solicitor inclined his head. “You would have been able to live comfortably, but in nothing like the style to which this inheritance will enable you.”
“Kitty’s trust is fully funded until she marries?”
“Your finances remain as I detailed them last month.”
“Very well. Once the estate has been settled and the total assets determined, I wish you to set up a new trust.”
The solicitor nodded. “A wise choice. You may choose to leave some of the cash on deposit—”
“A trust,” she interrupted, “for the benefit of Lady Bellingham and Miss Bellingham, with a portion set aside for Miss Bellingham’s dowry. Consult his lordship’s solicitors on the precise terms—they will doubtless be more cognizant of the family’s needs. And I should like to offer all the properties for sale to the rightful heirs—at the price of one shilling each.”
The solicitor’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you sure, Lady Belle? ’Tis a very great deal of wealth.”
“What was his should go to his family. I don’t want it, nor is it right that I receive it.” With a touch of defiance she added, “He shall brand me no more.”
The solicitor gave her a smile of genuine warmth. “I shall set about arranging it. His lordship’s solicitors are going to be shocked—and extremely relieved!”
“Make sure you charge them a hefty fee!” Belle recommended with a grin, filled with the euphoria of a great burden lifted. “Send for me when the necessary papers are prepared. And now, if there is nothing else?”
Mr. Smithers’s smile broadened. “I should think inheriting—and giving away—a fortune should be business enough for one day.”
“I shall take my leave, then.” Satisfied to have evaded Bellingham’s last ploy, Belle walked to the door, then paused on the threshold. “I want to thank you for your expertise and counsel over the years, Mr. Smithers. Few men would have agreed to take on so…disreputable a client. I am very grateful you did.”
Mr. Smithers bowed. “’Tis I who have learned from you, lady—that appearances are not always what they seem, and that there is honor to be found in persons of every degree. What you are doing is truly noble.”
“What I am doing is merely proper,” Belle countered. “Which reminds me…If the family has not yet been apprised of the terms of the will, I should prefer that the particulars remain between you and the Bellingham solicitors. Let his family believe Lord Bellingham set up the trust. As he should have done,” she added acerbically.
“Given the, ah, sensitive nature of the bequest, I’m sure his lordship’s solicitors will be happy to honor that request.” Smithers bowed to her. “Good day, Lady Belle.”
“Mr. Smithers.” With a curtsy, feeling once more in control of her
