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“I recently came into possession of a letter my great-grandfather wrote to me,” I say.
“Ahh yes, I assumed your parents would have given it to you.”
“My parents and I are estranged,” I say simply. “They weren’t supportive of my decision to forfeit my inheritance. Are you saying they knew about my great-grandfather’s letter and its contents?” I ask.
Mr. Stanton laughs, a deep, booming noise that shocks me. “Reginald was a brilliant but old-fashioned man, he wanted the world to move backward, back to a time that made more sense to him. I told him those damn rules wouldn’t work, but he was determined to try. That’s why I advised him to put something in place in case you failed to live up to his unrealistic expectations.” Pulling a file from a drawer, he places it on his desk, flips it open, and lifts up a pile of papers. Glancing to the others in the room, he looks to me, his eyebrows lifting in question. “What we’re about to discuss is of a confidential nature, perhaps a little privacy?”
“It’s fine, this is my family, they can hear whatever we’re about to discuss,” I tell him.
He nods stoically, glancing at the others again, before turning all of his attention to me. “Penelope, when you came to see my colleague Roger and told him that you’d deliberately broken the will, he wasn’t aware of the alternative clauses your great-grandfather had put in place. I apologize that it took me a few weeks to be made aware of the situation. When Roger came to me and told me about his meeting with you, I wasn’t sure what to say or do. He explained your reasoning for wanting to break the will to me, and truthfully, I wasn’t sure if you’d said those things as an excuse. At the end of the day, you’re an eighteen-year-old girl, and I questioned if perhaps you hadn’t wanted to admit that you’d slipped up and broken a rule. But then he told me that you’d said that if you didn’t get away from this money, there would be nothing redeemable about you left, and I knew at that moment that your great-grandfather truly was wrong to have placed that burden on you. I realized that those ill-conceived rules were fallacious and, well, just plain wrong. I don’t know what happened to drive you to choose to break the will, but I want you to know, for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.”
Blinking, I stare at the man in front of me, unsure what I’m supposed to say. “Thank you,” I say a little stiffly.
“Why were you trying to get in contact with Penelope?” Hawthorn asks when he sees me struggling.
“Yes.” Mr. Stanton clears his throat. “Yes, well, Reginald left sealed documents revealing his wishes on the occasion that the will was broken, but as I mentioned, Roger wasn’t aware of that.”
“So, what happens now?” Gulliver asks, prompting the lawyer to hurry up and explain.
Sitting up straighter in his chair and tapping the papers still in his hands against the desk to realign them, Mr. Stanton clears his throat. “In the event that you”—he gestures to me—“Penelope, deliberately broke one of the clauses of inheritance with the intent to disinherit yourself, your great-grandfather left several alternative directives depending on your reasoning. I feel I’m already aware of your thought process, but for the record, could you please explain to me in your own words the reasoning that led to your decision to deliberately disinherit yourself?” he asks, his tone formal, while his eyes betray his own emotions of sorrow and pity.
Closing my eyes for the briefest of seconds, I pull in a long, slow, affirming breath. A wry scoff slips from my lips as I look up and straight into Mr. Stanton’s eyes. “I didn’t know my great-grandfather well, or actually really at all, but when he died, he created a path for me, and at fourteen, I didn’t know how toxic and destructive it would turn out to be. His rules, enforced by my parents, ruined my relationship with my sister. It molded me into a manipulative, evil being who thought of nothing but the pursuit of a fortune, no matter the cost to myself or the people around me. For four years, I blindly did what I was told, what I thought was expected of me, and it wasn’t until those around me revealed their true colors that I understood how wrong it all was, how poisonous it all was. Money corrupts, and this inheritance corrupted me. I told Mr. Kingston the day I came to see him that this inheritance has stolen everything that should be good and right inside of me, it took my integrity, my sense of morality, my soul, and all because I thought that my only purpose was following those godforsaken rules. The best thing I’ve ever done was free myself of that burden, and honestly, I really hope he decided to donate his estate to charity or give it away to the needy, or just put it in one of his houses and set it all on fire, because I don’t want it, I really don’t,” I say with a slightly manic laugh.
Mr. Stanton swallows audibly, then clears his throat, his lips turning down into a frown as sadness fills his eyes. “I’m sorry, Penelope,” he says, his words filled with so much genuine conviction that I feel tears fill my eyes.
“It all comes to me, doesn’t it?” I ask, already knowing what he’s going to tell me before he says a word.
His nod is slow. “Your great-grandfather’s will had a morality clause hidden within the terms, which stated that if you deliberately chose to break the will because you felt that the rules and clauses were having a detrimental effect on your moral fortitude, then the will was forfeited and the estate in its entirety was passed to you with immediate effect.”
“I don’t want it,” I whisper, reaching out blindly for Hawthorn’s hand and clinging to him the moment he wraps his large, cool fingers around mine.
“The will does state that the inheritance is yours to do with as you please once you turn eighteen, so should you choose to—although I highly recommend you don’t—you can give it all away or donate it.”
“Izzy can have it,” I say, turning to my sister. “It should never have been mine; you can have it all.”
She shakes her head. “No, this is your future, Penelope, it’s too much.”
“Then we’ll split it half each, and then I’m not burning a fortune, just half of one,” I say on a choked sob. “Can I do that?” I ask, turning to look at the lawyer.
“Err,” he falters, obviously unsure what to say. “What you do with the assets from the will, is entirely up to you once you’ve received them.”
“Okay, then I accept,” I say, ignoring the lawyer and looking at my sister. “Then once all the paperwork is sorted out, half of it is yours, half of the money, the houses, the businesses, everything.”
“If I say yes, do you promise not to give all of yours away or burn it?” Izzy asks, a soft smile spreading across her lips.
“No,” I say on a half laugh, half cry.
“Mr. Stanton, as Penelope has inherited everything now, does that mean she holds responsibility for the family trusts that are already in place?” Gulliver asks curiously.
Flipping through the piles of papers, Mr. Stanton pulls out a sheet and starts to read while we all stare on silently. “Hmmm,” he says, placing the paper back down on the pile. “In normal circumstances, active trusts have a fixed amount of money that’s excluded from any final estate, but that’s actually not the case with Reginald’s estate. The trusts are all conditional and are part of the bequest. Why?” he asks.
Gulliver smiles, a deep, rumbling laugh falling from his lips. “That is excellent news,” he says, avoiding answering the lawyer’s question as his eyes light up with mischief.
37
HAWTHORN
Kip’s driver closes the door behind me as I slide into the cool leather seat, and a moment later we pull into traffic. “Shall we go to Fetch for lunch?” I ask.
