Arabella of Mars

“Yes, yes,” Arabella said, waving an impatient hand.

“This is important. An entail, at least an entail of this type, is, in effect, a contract between generations, ensuring that the family property is neither lost nor subdivided into insignificance. It binds the estate—the entire estate—to the current holder and to his next two heirs.” He took a breath, let it out again. “As is typical with estates of this type, your brother’s will was drawn up for him shortly after he was born.” He swallowed. “As such, it was prepared by my predecessor, Mr. Beale. Mr. Beale was … well, let us say that he gave little consideration to the fair sex at the best of times, and in his dotage he appears to have omitted any consideration whatsoever.” He picked up the papers and handed them to Arabella with an expression both disgusted and contrite. “As your family solicitor, I must apologize for not having reviewed this document before now. Your father was in, in such … robust good health, until his sudden passing of course, and, well, the months since then, they have been so hectic…”

As Mr. Trombley continued to stammer his apologies, Arabella took the papers and ran her eyes over the dense pages of text. They might as well have been Venusian for all the sense she could extract from them. “What does this all mean?”

Mr. Trombley frowned and blew out a breath through his nose. “The entail binds the estate to heirs of the body male for three generations. When this will was drawn up, that was your brother, your uncle, and your cousin. Your uncle and cousin are specified by name, but in the event of their … their death or incapacity, the estate is to be inherited by the next heir of the body male. Whoever that may be.”

Arabella thought for a moment. Apart from Simon, she had no other male relatives on her father’s side, not even distant cousins. “And who would that be?”

“That … is the problem.” He sighed. “To the best of my knowledge there is no surviving male heir … and the will contains no provision whatsoever for this circumstance. As I said, my … predecessor, Mr. Beale, gave little consideration to the fair sex.” He shook his head. “If your brother should … pass, with the will in this state … the estate will be thrown into probate.”

“In which case…?”

He shrugged and spread his hands. “In a case such as this, any one with any possible claim, however spurious, may petition the court. It could take years to settle, the estate could be … could be divided any which way. And the expense would be tremendous. In the worst case, the entire estate could fall to the Crown.”

Through all this Michael had been looking at Arabella with stoic resignation. “We cannot allow this to occur.”

“But Michael, surely this is no concern of ours? I am sure you will be up and about in no time.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “You need not prevaricate with me, sister. I am fully aware of how precarious my health is. And if this … contretemps has taught me any thing, it is that life is fragile and easily snuffed out.” His expression was now as serious as any she could ever recall having seen on him. “The estate must be preserved at all costs. And so the entail must be broken.”

“But how? To break an entail, I have heard, requires an act of Parliament! And we could not possibly—”

Michael held up one finger. “An entail is a contract, as Mr. Trombley has explained to me in wearisome detail, and contracts can be terminated.” He struggled to sit up, but soon gave up the effort, collapsing back upon the pillows and addressing the ceiling. “Any change in an entail requires the consent of all those involved—in this case, the current holder and the next two heirs in line. Now, under most circumstances this means that change is virtually impossible. Why would any one in his right mind consent to any change which might cost them so large an estate? But at the moment, there are no such heirs. This is our problem, and our opportunity. For the first time in heaven knows how many generations, I may change my will however I wish.”

“Sir,” Mr. Trombley fumed, “I cannot allow you to—”

“My mind is made up,” he said, “and as I have achieved my majority, albeit by only three weeks, and am of sound mind if not body, you cannot prevent it.” He raised himself on one elbow to face Arabella. “My dear sister, I intend to will the entire estate to you.”

“To me?” Arabella laid a hand on her chest and felt her own pulse throbbing hard. “But … even if there are no other male heirs, surely Mother is the next of kin?”

David D. Levine's books