Part 20 (1/2)
She cut into the filet and savored the taste of it. Tender, warm, delicious. How she could enjoy eating when everything else seemed a burden, she didn't know, but welcomed having an enjoyable activity.
”What's that about?” She took a bite of vegetable and smothered her potato with b.u.t.ter and sour cream.
”An investigation. And they want your story. I've told them you're in seclusion and I am the spokesman for Beaumont. I will let them know when you have something to say.”
”I will talk to them. I will tell them I married John Ancell on that s.h.i.+p.”
”No.”
Her mouth opened, and she didn't care if there was food in it. ”This is not up for debate. I am making a statement. To you, before I make it to the rest of the world.”
He swallowed the steak and took a bite of potato, calmly, unperturbed, waiting, not blinking, just looking.
”I can speak for myself. I will report that I am Mrs. John Ancell.”
His expression didn't change. After a moment, he reached for his wine gla.s.s, lifted it to his lips, and drank from it.
She picked up her gla.s.s, just as calmly as he.
He returned his to the table, keeping that bland expression. ”Just in case anything should come up about that night, you need to get your nonexistent marriage annulled.”
Lydia gasped, and not having fully swallowed the wine, she began to cough as the gla.s.s fell from her hand, spilled on the table, and crashed to the floor.
”I'll call for someone to clean it up.”
She looked around. ”Marcella. Where's Marcella?”
His face grim, he didn't answer. He didn't need to.
She tried to collect herself while he got a towel and covered the mess. Marcella's name wasn't on the survivor's list.
Neither was John's.
Could this really be true?
She could not eat any more. How could she ever eat again? But when he poured wine into his gla.s.s and handed it to her, she drank. She didn't need to make a spectacle of herself.
He must have thought she'd calmed down, because he lost his mind again. ”The papers have been drawn up,” he said. ”All you need do is sign them.”
Obviously he was not as smart as he was made out to be. That was too ridiculous to even discuss. However, finally, as she nibbled absently on a roll, she managed to say, ”Why would I do something so inane as to get an annulment?”
37.
Lydia,” he said calmly, having returned to the table and taking an occasional bite. She would too, and she lifted a forkful of potato. ”It's the only sensible thing to do because you're not married to John Ancell.”
She chewed furiously and glared at him.
”There was no license. No papers officially filed. Did you sign anything?”
”We were going to the next morning.”
”It wasn't done. You're not married. If your father doesn't make it, G.o.d forbid, and you claim to be Mrs. Ancell, then as your husband he inherits part of Beaumont Company.”
She felt so angry, she spouted what she didn't want to face. ”He isn't here.”
”He has relatives. He has parents in a small town outside London. His father is a carpenter. He has a nice business and his family is comfortable. He was very handy with wood and liked to whittle and-”
”I know. He made little wooden trains. Why are you telling me this?”
”If you insist upon being Mrs. Ancell, then they are legally ent.i.tled to some of your inheritance.”
”They wouldn't.”
He raised his eyebrows. He didn't have to tell her what people did for money and what it could do to them. It made them think they ruled the world and could look down on dear people like John simply because of a lack of it.
Relentless, Craven continued. ”Can you imagine a middlecla.s.s family being asked to sign papers, giving up any rights to the biggest railroad company in the world?”
She didn't know about the legalities. She remembered John saying his family was proud of him.
”Another thing,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, which made no sense anyway. ”As his wife you would be rightful owner of Ancell Toy Trains.”
Her jaw dropped. That had never occurred to her.
”But, I expect he had a will making family members his beneficiaries.”
She got up from the table and paced. She didn't want to think of all that. She wanted to think of John, her husband, their lovely short life together, their wedding. She put her hands over her ears.
She heard him anyway. ”Even if he had a will, leaving everything to his family, you as his legal wife would be ent.i.tled. It will involve the courts, and attorneys they probably can't afford.”
She sneered. ”I have no need or desire to take anything from his family. As you've said many times, they make toy trains. I have real ones.”
”It's out of your hands, Lydia. It's business. Your father will not have the privilege of favorable publicity about that pseudo-wedding now that the t.i.tanic has sunk. Quite the contrary. It will be a shame and a disgrace.”
She stopped pacing and opened her mouth to deliver a reprimand, but he spoke quickly. ”If you had received the publicity, and the t.i.tanic hadn't sunk, he might have accepted John because John's toy company would have become a part of his own business, and John would be your husband. But,” he said pointedly, ”the t.i.tanic did sink.”
She walked faster about the room as if she were going somewhere. She knew the t.i.tanic sank. But she didn't want to think about it. She wanted to say she was married to John and to go off somewhere and find some kind of peace.
”What might have been, has changed now.” He glanced at her and then at the floor as if she might wear a hole in it. She wished it would swallow her up. ”If your father thinks you married John Ancell, the only way he can save face, in his opinion, will be to demand you take control of Ancell Trains.” He shrugged. ”I mean, how else can we incorporate John's designs?”
”No.” She sat on the couch. ”I will relinquish any control over Ancell Trains. His family can have the business and Beaumont cannot.”
”This kind of business does not work like that. Your father owns Beaumont. Beaumont has a board. They can make decisions that don't necessarily go along with your father.” He shook his head. ”We might talk Cyril out of any legal action, but the Board in London wants John's designs. The board in America will want them. How can they get them?”
Lydia was getting the point. Likely, not from his family. Beaumont would take legal action.