As the Crow Flies

“This is a contract between two people. The courts would have to assume Daniel had relinquished his interest to any claim in the Hardcastle estate, once Mrs. Trentham had kept her part of the bargain.”

“But what about coercion?”

“Of a twenty-six-year-old man by a woman over seventy when he went to visit her? Hardly, Sir Charles.”

“But how did they ever meet?”

“I have no idea,” replied the lawyer. “It seems that she didn’t confide the full circumstances of the meeting even to her own solicitors. However, I’m sure you now understand why I considered this wasn’t the most appropriate time to raise the subject of Sir Raymond’s will with Daniel.”

“You made the right decision,” said Charlie.

“And now the subject must be closed forever,” said Becky, barely louder than a whisper.

“But why?” asked Charlie, placing an arm around his wife’s shoulder.

“Because I don’t want Daniel to spend the rest of his life feeling he betrayed his great-grandfather when his only purpose in signing that agreement must have been to help us.” The tears flowed down Becky’s cheeks as she turned to face her husband.

“Perhaps I should have a word with Daniel, man to man.”

“Charlie, you will never even consider raising the subject of Guy Trentham with my son again. I forbid it.”

Charlie removed his arm from around his wife and looked at her like a child who has been unfairly scolded.

“I’m only glad it was you who has brought us this unhappy news,” said Becky, turning back to the solicitor. “You’ve always been so considerate when it comes to our affairs.”

“Thank you, Lady Trumper, but I fear I have yet more unpalatable news to impart.”

Becky gripped Charlie’s hand.

“I have to report that on this occasion Mrs. Trentham has not satisfied herself with one blow at a time.”

“What else can she do to us?” asked Charlie.

“It seems that she is now willing to part with her land in Chelsea Terrace.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Becky.

“I do,” said Charlie. “But at what price?”

“That is indeed the problem,” said Mr. Baverstock, who bent down to remove another file from his old leather bag.

Charlie and Becky exchanged a quick glance.

“Mrs. Trentham will offer you the freehold on her site in Chelsea Terrace in exchange for ten percent of Trumper’s shares”—he paused—“and a place on the board for her son Nigel.”

“Never,” said Charlie flatly.

“If you should reject her offer,” the solicitor continued, “she intends to sell the property on the open market and accept the highest bidder—whoever that might be.”

“So be it,” said Charlie. “We would undoubtedly end up buying the land ourselves.”

“At a far higher price than the value of ten percent of our shares, I suspect,” said Becky.

“That’s a price worth paying after what she’s put us through.”

“Mrs. Trentham has also requested,” continued Mr. Baverstock, “that her offer should be presented to the board in detail at your next meeting and then voted on.”

“But she doesn’t have the authority to make such a demand,” said Charlie.