Catherine vacated her seat beside the fire as Roberts escorted the gentlemen from the law firm into the study; it was the most private place in the house to conduct a meeting, besides Catherine hadn't wanted to trouble Thomas with moving to another room. Though if there were papers to be studied and signed they may trouble for space on the small, round table that currently housed their barely touched tray of tea, perhaps the dining room would have been a better choice.

Thomas eyed the pensive expression on his mother's face and cleared his throat to gain her attention. "Thank you for tea mother, we shall resume our conversation once I've entertained these gentlemen."

In a way he had known what she had been thinking. Her new questioning attitude was alien, even to herself; she never would have doubted her own decisions so much when George had been alive, but these days she feared much for the eggshells being walked upon.

Smiling acceptance in her defeat Catherine made for the door to exit the study. "Yes of course, Thomas. Do help yourselves to tea gentlemen, no use in letting it get cold." She gestured to the tray on the table as the two men gathered themselves inside the study. "Edward, have Mary bring up some more cups would you."

The footman had just fetched in an extra chair from the dining room and almost jumped at being accosted for yet another request as he set it down opposite the fireplace. But he nodded his assent with a fleeting, "Yes Ma'am." and hurried off downstairs in search of the housemaid. Despite the sombre atmosphere the last few months had cast over the household, it seemed there had hardly ever been a quiet moment, particularly for the staff to enjoy and Catherine did not fail to notice the harried expression on Edward's face as he passed her in the doorway. Roberts worked him hard she knew, and as a lone footman a lot of duties fell on his shoulders, he could probably do with a break – before he began to resent his position in the household. If truth be told they probably all would benefit from the same.

"Thank you Mrs Crawford, most generous." Mr Black grinned at her brightly as he hooked his grey bowler hat over the back of the chair and shrugged out of his overcoat. Jewels of moisture glittered on the charcoal fabric of the matching hat and coat, the sky outside was just as grey and a terrible damp mist hung in the air. "And I must say, that fire is most welcome, it's a grim day outside for sure."

"Not about to be made grimmer, I hope," Catherine said, in the hopes that the men might drop her some hint of the business they meant to discuss with their son; Mr Black seemed much more likely to give something away going by his warm and jovial nature. But before he could say a word, stern-faced Mr Cartwright cleared his throat while Thomas said, "Mother!" in a tone that much matched the man's expression.

"Sorry." She apologised with a weary sigh. "It is not for me to intrude. Do make yourselves at home gentlemen, I shall leave you to your business." She turned to her son and added for his benefit, "Roberts will be here should you require anything."

"Thank you, but Mother do stop fussing," he said with a shake of his head. He hated the extra attention, the different treatment he was forced to rely on since the war, and Catherine's extra concern and coddling while company was present served only to embarrass the young man.

Though it irked her somewhat to be turned out of a room in her own house, Catherine swept out of the study without another word; she would not venture very far and besides she had complete confidence that Thomas would fill her in on the details of the meeting once it was over. She passed Mary on her way into the dining room, the maid carried the extra cups she had requested on a handsomely decorated silver tray. It seemed almost foolish to use yet another tray just to carry two cups but Mrs Blake was a stickler for propriety, so used to serving in a larger households, and would not see one of her maids carrying crockery for guests with their bare hands. Catherine cast the petite woman gentle smile but all she received in return was a quick bob of a curtsey as Mary hurried on her way. Most time she barely got two words out of the woman, it was lucky really that she had Esther and Mrs Blake to speak to otherwise no one would have any idea should she ever have a problem.

At somewhat of a loss for something to do, now that her time she'd planned to spend with her son had been interrupted, Catherine wandered through the bright and airy dining room that had not housed a party of more than two in far too long, and made her way into the smaller and more homely living room. Though not as cosy as the study, with its dark colours, panelled walls lined with book cases and large fireplace, it had a pleasant view of the garden, and not to mention was far warmer than the dining room with its own fire blazing. Both she and her son breakfasted in bed so the dining room would likely not be used until dinner, not point in keeping a fire stoked if it would not be enjoyed, George would have had a fit for wasting the fuel and it was a habit Catherine was not likely to let go of.

She selected a few volumes from the rather smaller selection of bookshelves in the living room and settled herself down on the chaise but found it hard to concentrate on even one verse when her mind continued to wander back to the study. What were they discussing behind that door?

* * *

Misters Black and Cartwright made an odd pair. Both such the opposite, in look and character, of the other. Thomas regarded them with interest as they took their respective seats near the fireplace. Rotund Mr Black sank happily into the armchair that Mrs Crawford had so recently vacated, and proceeded to help himself to tea with a generous helping of sugar. While dour and slender Mr Cartwright straightened his overcoat he refused to remove and sat stiffly in the hard backed dining chair, an impatient expression crossing his angular features while he waited for his partner to ready himself for business. How on earth they managed to run a successful law firm together, Thomas would never know, but by all accounts they did well for themselves, and were a regularly sought after by London's upper-middle classes for all their legal needs.

"So how may I serve you today, gentlemen?" Thomas asked, eager to find out what it was they wanted of him. "I trust nothing unforeseen has occurred with my father's will?"

"No, no, nothing worry about young sir, no. Your father had everything all very well in order," Mr Black replied, wiping tea from his thick, bushy moustache. "No, our visit concerns another matter entirely."

"Yes," said Cartwright in his thin, nasally voice, eager to take up the reins of the conversation and get down to the details; never much the one for small talk or frivolity. "Though we are here concerning a matter of inheritance, it is not concerning your late father. At least not directly."

"Interesting business, I must say. I wonder if old George knew anything about it. Though of course he never once mentioned..." Cartwright cast his partner a cold, sideways glance and Mr Black cleared his throat, waving away the thoughts that had come tumbling eagerly from his lips. "Ahem, yes, well. You have the papers there, Henry?"

Henry Cartwright, always one step ahead of the game, had the file open at the page of interest before his business partner could even finish speaking. He set the tray of tea down on the carpeted floor so that he might spread out the papers and keep the attention of the meeting now firmly on the matter at hand. Mr Black may have been good at winning clients with his amiable personality, but he was so very easily distracted.

"As I said it does concern an inheritance, a property that was set to have been your father's had times been different. However, with events coming to pass as they did, stipulations in the client's will dictate this property is now to pass to you, his firs- born son." Cartwright went on.

The longer he spoke the more whiny his voice became. Thomas had found it most annoying when dealing with his father's estate, but in a meeting alone with the man, save of course for Charlie Black, he found it difficult to control his features at the sound permeating his ears. The facts of what he had been saying though did somehow manage to make it through and Thomas frowned, deep in thought.

"I don't understand, who did my father stand to inherit property from?"

"A great uncle, by all accounts. As best we can tell the house in question has been passed around through the family now for quite some time," Mr Black answered, for which Thomas was entirely grateful. "We don't have all its records at our disposal, but it seems the place has been uninhabited for at least a decade, quite possibly longer, passing on in name and deed only to distant family of the last owners who lived there."

"And it has somehow been passed on to us? I didn't realise my father's family even owned any property of note."

"Well, as I said, it's been passed along a fair amount so the relationship is probably quite distant by the time we get to your father and yourself. But what with the war and the flu, the question of some inheritances has become quite a long and complicated process. Keeps us busy though, right Henry?" Charlie elbowed Mr Cartwright in a jolly manner.

"Indeed," Cartwright replied, twisting his lips into what could never be described as a smile. "The details really are not important, Master Crawford. Really all you need concern yourself with is the fact that this house, which is located in Sussex, is now legally your personal property."

Thomas did not much appreciate the way Henry Cartwright spoke to him in such a patronising manner, he was not a child, and even crippled as he was the injury had not done any damage to his brain. He had a mind to say something but was still not confident enough in his new self to speak aloud all the thoughts that ran through his mind. Instead he held his tongue while Mr Black fished the teapot off the floor and poured himself another cup as his partner rummaged around in a black leather case for yet more papers.

"Just a few documents for you to sign, sir, and we can all be on our way. Need not take up any more of your time." He set the papers down in front of Thomas and presented him with an elegant quill tipped pen, indicating the places on the papers where he should sign his name without giving him so much as a chance to read any of them.

The man's apparent haste to be done with business made Thomas suspicious. His questions had been put down and dismissed, and for all he knew from the papers he scrawled his signature onto he could be signing himself into slavery.

"Excellent," he said, with another of his sinister twisting of lips. "That is business done and all official. Here are the deeds and all other relevant information on the property that we have available for you, though you will want to check in with a law firm local to the property for any further business in regard to it, I am sure they will have much more thorough records than we do for you. And, of course, congratulations Master Crawford, you are now the proud new owner of Marchwood Hall, Sussex."

He stuck out a slender hand for Thomas to shake, which his did with some reluctance, almost recoiling at how cold and dry his skin felt even after having been sat beside such a roaring fire. Letting Thomas' palm slip through his skeletal fingers, Cartwright gathered up the rest of the papers that were to be kept for their own records, while Charlie Black lumbered up out of the chair. It was true he was the man to woo and win the clients, but it seemed Henry Cartwright was really the man who did all the work, though Thomas doubted whether either one would succeed in his business without the other, that must be why their partnership worked so well.

"Thank you," Thomas said, though he wasn't entirely sure he had anything to be thankful for. Charlie reached across and gripped Thomas' hand between both sets of his pudgy, warm fingers and shook enthusiastically.

"Not at all, my boy, not at all. And of course, anything we can do for you and your family in the future. We always take care of our valued clients." The two gentlemen took their leave with Roberts escorting them through to the front door where their car waited by the curb.

Thomas smiled as they left, he knew his father had greatly trusted these two men and their law firm with all of his business, there was no reason he should not do the same. It was an idea that might take some getting used to, he had never anticipated suddenly owning his own house in the countryside, particularly not since the war, but it steadily seemed an interesting prospect. He would have to broach the subject with his mother, but a little change of scenery might just be what they all needed. The news seemingly could not have come at a better time.