The Sister's Tale Beth Powning (dar e dil novel online reading .TXT) 📖

Mr. Eveleigh pressed the side of his hand against his upper lip. He remained in thought, finger passing up and down over the corner of his mouth.

“Mrs. Galloway. I’m afraid I must tell you the law, and it will not be happy news for you. I can give it to you straight away, in point-by-point fashion. Are you agreeable? Or would you rather I told your father? That would probably be best.”

He smiled to himself, turning over papers on his desk.

“Then he could guide you through the particulars. I always feel that Mrs. Eveleigh needs a soft chair and a cup of tea by her side when I present her with difficulties.”

She thought of how men exchanged looks, in the presence of women, as if some things should not be inflicted upon them. Her father, leading her down the aisle, handing her to her husband. Giving her away. She felt space, now, making silence around her.

Where is your husband?

Single. Just one. Alone.

“Tell me,” she said. She straightened her back and stared at the rosy-faced man with his manicured fingernails. At first, force of thought had carried her through one day and then another. Thought rode atop feeling and was still floating, fragile. Do what they tell you. Try not to cry. Do not eat in bed, get up, get dressed. So she did, trying to resume. She asked Ellen not to bring food to her bedroom. She made sure to let no tear fall unless she was alone. She began making a scrapbook with Lucy and Maud, gathering every single thing they could find about Simeon: a poem little Maudie had written for him when she was four years old; from his handkerchief drawer, an outsized acorn found on a walk with Lucy.

“Tell me now,” she repeated, forcefully, and he looked at her, surprised.

“Very well, Mrs. Galloway. I’m sorry to have to…”

He located the papers; worked pince-nez onto his nose. “This is the Intestate Estates Act chapter. I will read: His real estate…” He broke off. “Meaning land and things fixed to land. Such as a house…shall be divided equally to and amongst his children. If there are no children, then to his next of kin.”

He looked over his glasses. “A widow is not kin.”

A widow is not kin.

“Excuse me? I don’t…”

“A widow is not kin,” he repeated, pausing between each word.

Her hand flew to her breast. She pressed hard, fingers spread.

“However, the Dower Act ensures that you have one-third life interest in the real property. It is a life interest, which means you own one-third of the real property as long as you live. In theory you could identify your third and rent it out, but it would be rather…awkward. You see, who would buy your house, for example, knowing that you still owned one-third? You could always sign away your dower rights, of course. For a price. Now, as for personal property. You knew, of course, when you married, that all personal property you brought to the marriage vested absolutely in your husband.”

“Yes.”

“So now we are discussing everything that you may feel you and your husband owned. After estate expenses, one-third of this goes to the widow and the residue in equal portions to his children…”

He paused.

“You do not own the house and property outright, in short. Nor are you the legal guardian of your minor children. Since they are the owners of the house and land, as well as of two-thirds of all personal property, this is what you must do: you must apply to the Supreme Court in Equity to be declared their legal guardian—”

“I am not their legal guardian?”

He shook his head, no. “So that you can deal with their portion of the real property until they decide what is to be done with it. They cannot sell the house, in short, until they are all over twenty-one years of age, and they all agree to sell, and you agree to sign away your dower interest.”

Josephine reflected that Mr. Eveleigh would go home to his house after his day’s work and remove the collar, which was surely uncomfortable. He would unbutton and remove the starched shirt. Perhaps he would shrug into a looser shirt and a smoking jacket. He would light a pipe and wonder what kind of trees to plant in his yard, elms or lindens.

“Moreover, it will be incumbent upon you to keep very good accounts, as all portions of the estate belonging to the children must be used only for their benefit.”

A young woman, passing the window. Looking not at them but her own reflection. A new bonnet trimmed with feathers and silk flowers.

Watching the girl’s self-satisfaction, Josephine pressed at her cheekbones with her fingertips, forcing her eyes half-shut.

A wife is not kin.

A mother is not her children’s legal guardian.

“Simeon would be horrified,” she said. Her voice broke. “He would be furious.”

“Yes,” Mr. Eveleigh agreed. “The law can be cruel. It does not bend.”

She stared through the dusty window. Spring sunshine, warm on those heading for Howe’s Tinware. Faces, smiling, anticipatory; people thinking of a new teapot or jelly cake pan. She sensed the change in her body—skin, bone and blood adjusting to the meaning of this news.

“You can look again,” he suggested. She felt it as mockery—an insult to Simeon, and to the hard work of her maids.

Not my house.

Not my children.

“Make me an appointment, then,” she said. Her words were not as commanding as they would have been several weeks ago, when she was still Simeon’s wife. She felt a shiver of uncertainty.

His eyebrows raised. “With?”

“The Supreme Court in Equity. I will be their legal guardian, at the very least.”

“Very well,” he said, pulling papers towards him, reaching for his pen. “And we will see how much money you have when all is done. In the meantime, you may continue to draw on the funds as you have been. But I would advise beginning to…modify…”

FIVE Mirror

JOSEPHINE