Anne woke before dawn. She'd slept soundly, but there was still an ache in her head. It was the price she had to pay for the pleasure of being with him and she was prepared to pay it. Care had to be taken not to stay too long, but if she was careful, she saw no reason why she couldn’t spend some time in the company she craved into her very soul.
Her dress was clean when she put in on. Somehow he'd managed to clean it, although she doubted he'd slaved over it with a brush. Probably he'd just wished it clean and it had been.
Pinning up her hair, she made her way out of her room and walked down the dark stairs. Lisle was going to the village today and would be gone for most of the day. She would leave just as dawn broke.
As Anne stepped down, a figure appeared in the hall. For a moment she feared it was Alfie, who still made her nervous, but a softer figure formed, with a long dress. Elizabeth.
Anne smiled, still slightly disconcerted when a spirit appeared in front of her. They made no bones about it when they wanted to talk. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"What are your intentions with my father?"
Raising her eyebrows, Anne inhaled, not exactly knowing how to respond.
"No one in this house can fail to ignore the change in energy. This house reflects my father and at the moment, his is being decidedly… exuberant."
Heat flared up Anne's cheeks. "Ah, uh," she stammered, her cheeks flaming red. She didn't quite know what to do with herself.
"Exuberant is, of course, joyful. Lack thereof, is not something I wish to see."
Anne didn't know what to say. This was not a discussion she felt comfortable having, particularly with a young girl. But she had to remember Elizabeth wasn't a fifteen-year-old innocent; she had probably seen all there was to human nature.
"My father has suffered greatly and I do not wish to see him suffer again."
"I have no intention of seeing him suffer."
"Eventually, he will."
"What are you saying?"
Elizabeth frowned. "I just wish you to take care. Do not toy with him. I fear you will hurt him."
"I have never been in the habit of toying with people."
The spirit shifted to sit down on the sofa. "Sometimes happiness is more fearful than anything else," she said. "It is only from a height which we can fall."
"Isn't it worth the risk?"
"He is not as strong as you think and you have a unique ability to affect him. He seems to conform to you."
"I don't understand."
"He seems to become what you want him to be."
"Well, we seemed to have developed a rapport that is very… nice," Anne said, looking away in embarrassment.
"You just need to keep in mind that what you do affects him too, and affects all of us."
"I don't have any intention of developing anything further, or anything different. This is a nice state, don't you think? We could continue exactly as we are."
"Yes, let's keep it this way," Elizabeth said. "Exactly like this."
It wasn't a hard commitment to make. This new development seemed to serve everyone nicely. Elizabeth faded and Anne resumed her progress. No, this wasn't a bad state at all. Every divorcee should have a ghost lover who drove her to utter distraction every night, watching over her as she slept. This would be quite tolerable.
There would be no plowing that day as Lisle was away. Anne had to find some other way of busying herself. In truth, she couldn't wait until dusk, feeling the excitement sing along her body already. But Lisle returned much sooner than expected, and she returned in a carriage, dragging a sack of flour out of it. How had this happened?
"There's a letter that needs to be delivered to you," Lisle said as Anne met her outside. "They came specifically to deliver it."
Anne took the letter from the driver and offered him some refreshments in the kitchen. He gratefully accepted and Anne returned to the parlor to open the letter. It had to be important if they sent someone all the way out here to deliver it.
Dear Miss Sands,
I regret to inform you that a claim has been laid against your ownership of the property you currently reside in by a Mr. Harold Kinelly. It has been lodged with the magistrate and we have just been informed of it. I need guidance from you as to how to proceed. I am aware that the claimant is your son and you may well be aware, and supportive, of his claim. Please, at your earliest opportunity, advise me how to proceed.
Your servant and faithful friend,
Charles Charterham, QC
What did he mean a claim against her ownership? Harry was contesting her ownership of Hawke's Moor? This couldn't be real, but they'd sent a carriage all the way out here to deliver this letter. Was this a jest on Harry's part? He wouldn't do this to her. This house was all she had.
Feeling utterly flustered, she marched into the kitchen where the carriage driver was sitting having a cup of tea.
"If it is quite alright, I will return to London with you."
"I was hired out of Goathland, but you are welcome to come with me that far."
"Yes, of course," she said absently, trying to fight the tears that were threatening. "I can take the train from there. Please wait for me before you go," she said and rushed out.
The moment she had felt safe, this had come to challenge it all, to tear down everything she had built. Harry sought to take the house from her. How could this have happened? It had to be a mistake. Harry wouldn't do anything to hurt her.
Returning to her room, she threw herself down on her bed for a moment. She just needed a moment to compose herself. This was an overreaction. She would go and sort it, and it would all be fine again. It was simply a misunderstanding on Mr. Charterham's behalf.
Anne was much more composed when she returned downstairs, wearing her traveling coat and her reticule. Her umbrella was firmly gripped in her hand as she stepped outside and continued into the back of the carriage. She drew a deep breath as they set off. Lisle stood in the doorway and she waved goodbye before closing the door behind her.
Funnily, Anne had no desire to go to London, even if this worrying letter wasn't on her mind. She was now quite content at home. Tonight, there would be no wonderful evening in her room; instead, she would have an uncomfortable one on the train, heading to news she didn’t want to confirm.
It was hard to keep her nerves from getting the better of her. This was what she'd feared, that something else would come along and drive her further down now that she was just recovering from the blows she'd been dealt. The worst was that Harry was involved, but no, this wouldn’t be something Harry would device; this had to be on the urging of his father. Stanford was attacking her again, probably wanting to lay his hands on this property. Why would he not if he saw some means to get it? He would spare her nothing if he saw a means to.
Mr. Charterham had assured her it was hers, but this letter obviously indicated there was some risk.
Without hesitation, she was shown into Mr. Charterham's office by his clerk. Though exhausted from the journey, she didn't want to wait to deal with this, having the uncertainty hang over her for another night.
"My dear Miss Sands," Mr. Charterham said as he entered through one of the other doors, dressed in a striped, gray waistcoat, with a chain hanging to a concealed fob watch. "Please sit."
He brought out a folder and unwound the string that kept it closed. "I see you received my letter," he continued.
"I came as soon as I could. I understand my son is contesting my ownership of Hawke's Moor."
He looked kindly at her and drew out some papers. "That appears to be the case."
Anne shivered at hearing the confirmation of it. "Unfortunately, his claim cannot be entirely dismissed. Your great aunt’s will did not specifically mention you by name, which is unfortunate, as that would make it much harder to challenge, along with the fact that he is a descendant, just as you are."
"Why would he do this?"
"That I cannot answer. But he is your son; I am sure he means what is best for you."
"But Stanford does not, and he is the one guiding my son's hands." Anne as near tears, but she forced herself to remain strong.
"If we go before the judge, I fear he will rule in your son's favor."
Anne chewed her lips together in dismay. "He seeks to take my very home from me. That isn't fair."
"No, it is not. But his claim has the right to be heard and the judge may well rule in his favor, especially as he claims owning this property is stressful to you to the point of harm. The judge will likely put you in your son's care, which may not be a terrible thing," Mr. Charterham said, trying to be bright.
Anne only glared at him. It was the false brightness that felt painful.
"In all honesty, it comes down to if you have the means to fight him."
That was the statement that took all the wind out of her sails. She did not.
"Even if you do," Mr. Charterham continued, "my feeling is that you will lose."