Chapter 6: Gerald Marsh
Daniel was at the window before I was.
"That's his solicitor's car," he said.
"He can't just arrive here—"
"He can.
He has." Daniel turned to his father.
"Did you know he was coming today?"
"No."
"Then someone told him." Daniel looked at me.
Not with accusation.
With something more uncomfortable than that — the look of a man revising a theory in real time.
"Or he's been watching the house."
Sophie appeared in the doorway.
"Mr.
Marsh is at the door," she said.
"With a man I don't recognize.
They're asking to speak with Mr.
Harlan."
"Tell them to wait," Daniel said.
"Daniel." Edward stood.
"I'll handle this."
"You'll handle it with me present." Daniel straightened his jacket.
He looked at me.
"Stay in here.
Don't come out until I come for you."
"I'm not going to hide in a sitting room."
"I'm not asking you to hide.
I'm asking you to give us five minutes to understand what he knows before he sees your face."
That was reasonable.
I didn't like it, but it was reasonable.
They left.
Sophie stayed.
"Has he been here before?" I asked her.
"Marsh."
"Once.
Two months ago.
Mr.
Harlan asked me not to mention it to Daniel." She paused.
"I shouldn't have agreed to that."
"What happened during that visit?"
"He walked through the ground floor.
Looked at everything.
Asked questions about the family — who lived here, who visited.
Mr.
Harlan answered as little as possible." She hesitated.
"He asked if Thomas had any children."
My hands went still in my lap.
"What did Edward tell him?"
"That Thomas never married.
That there were no children."
"And Marsh believed that?"
"I don't know." Sophie looked toward the hall.
"He smiled when he left.
That's what I remember.
He smiled like a man who'd gotten what he came for."
The voices in the entrance hall were audible now.
Edward's, controlled.
A second voice I didn't know — smooth, unhurried, the voice of someone who had decided the outcome before arriving.
Then a third voice.
Older.
Rougher.
Gerald Marsh.
"Edward.
You look well.
Considering."
"Gerald.
You should have called ahead."
"I find that calling ahead gives people time to prepare.
I prefer conversations that are — natural."
"What do you want?"
"The same thing I've always wanted.
What's owed to me." A pause.
"And perhaps a word with your guest."
The sitting room went very quiet.
Sophie looked at me.
I was already standing.
I walked into the hall.
Gerald Marsh was shorter than I'd imagined.
Sixties, well-dressed, silver hair combed back from a broad face.
He had the look of a man who had spent decades being underestimated and had learned to use it.
His eyes found me the moment I stepped through the door.
He didn't look surprised.
That told me everything.
"You must be Thomas's girl," he said.
"I'm Edward's daughter," I said.
Something shifted in his face.
Just slightly.
A recalculation.
"Of course." He smiled.
"Claire.
We thought you d*ed."
"I didn't."
"No.
You didn't." He looked at Edward.
"Remarkable, isn't it?
After all this time."
"Say what you came to say, Gerald," Edward said.
Marsh turned back to me.
He studied my face the way Eleanor had — but where Eleanor had been searching for love, Marsh was searching for something else entirely.
"Your brother left a considerable mess behind him," he said.
"Financial records.
Correspondence.
Some of it quite old." He reached into his jacket and produced a folded document.
"Including a signed statement.
Thomas's signature.
Dated four years ago."
He held it out to me.
I didn't take it.
"What does it say?"
"It says that Edward Harlan used Gerald Marsh's capital investment to purchase the northern parcel of this estate in 1987.
And that the transfer of title was made without Marsh's knowledge or consent." He let the document hang in the air between us.
"Thomas knew.
He witnessed the original transaction.
He signed this statement confirming it."
"Thomas is d*ad," I said.
"Yes.
But his signature isn't." Marsh's smile didn't waver.
"And you, as his heir, are now in a rather interesting position."
I looked at Edward.
His face had gone the color of old paper.
"That statement is a fabrication," Daniel said.
"Then disprove it." Marsh tucked the document back into his jacket.
"I'll be filing with the court on Friday.
If the Harlan family wishes to avoid a very public, very expensive proceeding, I suggest we discuss terms before then." He looked at me one more time.
"It's good to know you're alive, Claire.
Truly.
Your existence changes a great many things."
He turned and walked back toward the door.
His solicitor followed without a word.
The door closed.
The four of us stood in the entrance hall.
Daniel was the first to speak.
"He knew," he said.
"He's known for a while."
I looked at the closed door.
"He didn't come for the estate," I said.
"No," Edward said.
"He came to show us what he has.
And to show me that he knows who I am."
"Yes."
"Why does my being alive change things for him?"
Edward and Daniel looked at each other.
It was Sophie who answered, from the edge of the hall, her voice very quiet.
May you like
"Because Thomas left a will," she said.
"And you're in it."
