Marchwood Hall

Chapter 3

It was close to another week before all discussions were had and preparations were made, but it was decided that the family would indeed make a trip to Marchwood Hall. A break in the Sussex countryside, away from the busy endless bustle of London might be just what they all needed. To rest and recuperate away from the home that held so many painful memories for them all.

Catherine adored her Harley Street home, but without George's presence some of its sparkle and appeal had dimmed. Ghosts of memories waited around every corner to pounce on her as she approached them unawares. There would come a time when she would cherish such moments, but for now it was still to raw, too painful to still see him in every corner of their home; always there, perpetually out of her reach. She needed time to grieve and to heal, somewhere the spirit of her lost husband did not wait to cast her back into the depths of despair. For her son's sake she had managed to keep a brave face on the surface, but she feared losing the strength to keep it so. A change of scenery, a new project to occupy her mind, these things were just what she needed. How fortunate were they to have just that fall directly into their laps.

Thomas was still dubious. He had voiced his confusion at such a sudden and unexpected inheritance the instant the two lawyers had left the house; his mother had not been long in joining him back in the study as soon as Roberts had seen the gentlemen to the door. Upon her questioning concerning the business they had discussed, Thomas had gestured to the papers set on the circular table.

"See for yourself, mother. Some inheritance, a property and some land by all accounts. I'm not sure who this distant relative of father's was, actually I'm not entirely sure Cartwright and Black had much more of an idea of the relation for all they told me about it. What do you think? It all sounds a little fishy to me, how does a house remain empty and forgotten for a decade or so? They're trying to find some poor sap to palm it off on, there's got to be something wrong with the place, I'm sure."

Catherine frowned as she began to rifle through the pages, skim reading the details of the will, the deeds for the property now in her son's name, barely registering the concerned words coming from Thomas' mouth in an anxious flow. Reading too fast and missing the important details she was searching for, Catherine turned back to the details of the Will that saw her son inherit this house, looking most keenly for the details of the deceased and trying hard to register how he had been of relation to her late husband.

George had seen little of his family once his practice in London, not to mention work at the hospital, had taken off, occupying far too much of his time; his own wife and son thought it a stroke of luck should they have entire weekends to spend in the company of the good doctor. Morning and night he was always a central feature of the welcoming town house, despite being prepared to be called out at a moments notice, but there was little in the way of time for visiting distant relatives and keeping in touch with the greater span of his family.

Both his parents had passed some years earlier. There was sister that Catherine knew of, but she lived much further north with her own husband and children, beyond that she had never met another direct relation to her husband, and the name of this Great Great Uncle did not register in her memory as ever having been mentioned in conversation.

Still frowning she flipped the pages back to look over the deed to the house, it certainly did appear a grand sort of place, not at all unlike the home she had lived in as a child. It brought a small, nostalgic smile to her thin lips as she looked over the faded photograph clipped to the paper.

"Well, I can't say as I recognise the name of this distant Uncle of your father's at all, the house though certainly does look charming." Catherine set the photograph in front of her son and he frowned at it, still unconvinced.