The Pregnancy Contract. Yvonne Lindsay
lived. Now she was home she supposed she’d better do something about it, but first there was the appointment today to get through.
“Get through” being the operative words, she realized later that day as her father’s lawyer sat opposite her at his highly polished desk, a sobering expression on his face.
“What do you mean I have no money?” she demanded. “When I left, my trust fund was healthy. It had been operating since my mother’s death, earning interest all the way. Surely I didn’t spend it all?”
“No, Miss Mitchell, you didn’t. But you didn’t exactly use the funds wisely, or reinvest, either, did you?”
It felt as if she’d been victimized from the instant she’d arrived home. First Wade, then Dexie’s disapproval, and now this.
“They were mine to use,” she said, a defensive note in her voice.
“Of course, of course.” The old man made a shushing sound in a vain attempt to placate her.
But Piper would not be placated.
“So where is it?”
“It?”
“The money,” she clarified, holding onto her temper by a thread.
“You know that with your father as a Trustee, the funds were managed very carefully. Over the years he frequently diversified the investments, but as you must be aware, financial markets worldwide have been hit very hard. Even investments that appeared to be sound suffered, and you subsequently lost some rather large sums.”
Piper shook her head. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her father had always been the most prudent and cautious of investors.
“So, I have nothing?”
“I’m so very sorry.”
“But what about my father’s estate?”
“Miss Mitchell, what your father didn’t use to carry Mitchell Exports through some tough times, he used to fund alternative treatments for his illness. There really is very little left. The investment losses your fund endured hit him, also.”
Everything Wade had told her last night had been true. She wished she could blame him, hold him responsible for her father’s weak financial position at the time of his death, but it was clear Wade had conducted himself the same way he always had. With honor and loyalty to the man he revered above all others.
Mr. Chadwick continued, completely unaware of the turmoil in her mind. “I must say that Mr. Collins has been most benevolent. When he realized the situation your father was facing he personally acted to assist him. Rex was fortunate that Mr. Collins was compassionate enough to give him a lifetime right to reside in the house.”
The sick taste of bile rose in Piper’s throat.
Piper swallowed. “And my mother’s art collection? That should have been left to me in my father’s will. What has happened to that?”
At least if she had that, all was not lost. As much as she hated the idea of selling a single piece, she’d be able to liquidate some funds.
“All with Mr. Collins now. I understand the collection is on loan to the Sydney Art Gallery at the moment.”
“But it wasn’t my father’s to give. It was supposed to be mine.”
She fought to keep the panic from her voice. Without the collection, she really had nothing.
“Under the terms of your mother’s will, it was your father’s to dispose of at his discretion. While she stipulated her preference that it be given to you when you reached your majority, it was still left to your father to decide in the end. Some years ago, he mentioned to me that he had some concerns that you might feel compelled to break the collection up and he wanted to avoid that at all costs. Moreover, he wanted to be certain you were settled before entrusting it to you. In all fairness to your father, he honestly expected your trust fund to support you for your lifetime. Hardly anyone foresaw the long-term ramifications of the global financial crisis until it was too late.”
Piper slumped in the chair. Her life couldn’t get any worse, could it?
“There is one other thing,” the lawyer said carefully, making all the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Piper sat up. She didn’t like the way he’d prefaced what was coming next. There was something in his posture and tone that warned her that what she’d learned already was small-fry compared to what was coming next.
“Tell me,” she demanded. She may as well get it straight on the chin now.
“Your trust fund. With your withdrawals and the depreciation of the investments’ value over time, it became overdrawn. Mr. Collins had taken charge of your father’s affairs by that point, and personally advanced money to the fund to cover the shortfall when he was made aware of the situation.”
“Just how much money did he advance?”
The lawyer named a sum that caused black spots to swim before her eyes.
“So you’re saying he advanced several hundred thousand dollars to my trust fund?”
Wade had been the one responsible for the money she’d used to finance schools and health clinics, food and clothing and farm supplies in the counties she’d visited in the past four years? She was struck with an urgent need to understand the conditions of the loan and expressed as much to Mr. Chadwick.
“The loans were rather open-ended. As your trustee, your father entered into deeds acknowledging the debt between the fund and Mr. Collins. Obviously Mr. Collins has the right to recall those loans, with interest, at any time.”
“So no repayments have been made to date?”
“None, Mr. Collins hadn’t requested such repayment.”
“Not at all?”
She was confused. How could anyone afford to make such huge sums of money available like that and not expect something back in return?
“No, not at all.” Chadwick hesitated a moment, his mouth twisting into a moue of regret. “Until now.”
“Now?” she gasped. “He wants me to repay the debt now?”
“Yes, Miss Mitchell, I’m afraid so. And he has specified it must be repaid in full.”
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