Dangerous Inheritance (2 page)

‘You wily old fox,' Richard laughed. ‘But you're right, of course. The two of them got on famously that Christmas he spent at Cardinal's Folly and they both seem delighted to be together again. It's that which makes me rather hopeful.'

Marie Lou shook her head. ‘By harking back to that boy-and-girl affaire you're building castles in the air, darling. Fleur was only just twenty then, and still in the stage when a girl will try her hand out on anything in trousers. While Truss, rising seventeen, would have not been normal if he hadn't been smitten with calf-love for her. But there is nearly three years between them and that makes a big difference now.

‘Naturally she'll be pleased to have him as an escort while she's here, but she would have no time at all for a boy of twenty-one if there were an interesting older man about. And you can be certain that he hasn't the least intention of marrying anyone yet. With that ugly, attractive face, so like his father's, and any amount of money, he can get all the girls he wants. He'd be more of a fool than I take him for if he doesn't spend a few years sowing his wild oats before he settles down.'

‘I suppose you're right,' Richard admitted, smiling at his lovely wife. For the thousandth time it crossed his mind how little she had altered since he had brought her out of Russia. Her heart-shaped face and big violet eyes seemed to have aged hardly at all. Although she was forty-seven most people would have put her down as still in her thirties. She was a very small woman, but her figure was perfectly proportioned and no-one could lay a better claim to the appellation ‘a pocket Venus'. After a moment, he added with a grin:

‘Young Truss is the whale of a catch for any girl, though; and you may be wrong about Fleur not finding him attractive.
If she does, whatever his ideas about sowing wild oats, if she had half your looks she'd get him.'

‘I'll second that,' agreed the Duke, giving a low laugh.

‘You preposterous darlings.' Marie Lou shook her head. Then, with a wicked glance at Richard, she said, ‘But, after all, perhaps I could. If you'll divorce me I'm game to have a try. I'd love the chance to throw some of the Van Ryn millions about, and I bet a young Goliath like Truss would be good in bed. It's quite time I got rid of you and had a little fun.'

He gave a solemn nod. ‘How right you are, and I'd divorce you tomorrow but for one thing. I happen to be a “square”, so divorce is against my principles.' Standing up, he took her by the arm and added, ‘That being so, there's only one thing for it. I'm taking you up to our room and you're not going to get much of a siesta.'

‘Richard! How can you say such things?' Marie Lou had never got over blushing and as he pulled her to her feet she flushed scarlet, just as he had hoped she would.

‘Off you go!' cried de Richleau gaily. ‘I'll take my siesta here as usual.'

But he was not destined to doze for quite a while. Marie Lou, with Richard's arm about her, had only just disappeared into the villa when Petti, the white-coated houseman, emerged from it with a letter on a salver. With the low bow of a well-trained servant he presented it to the Duke.

Taking the letter with a word of thanks, de Richleau saw that the envelope was typed and carried a Ceylonese stamp. He knew no-one in Ceylon and, as travelling friends usually sent only postcards, he could not imagine who could have written to him on any business matter from there. As he turned the letter over, the psychic sense with which he was endowed made him strangely reluctant to open it. Had he relied on his instinct and, without reading the letter, had it burnt, that would have been far better, for its contents were fated to bring pain and grief to his four guests and himself into great danger.

The letter was from Messrs. Rutnam and Rajapakse, a firm of solicitors in Colombo, and signed by a partner, Anton Rajapakse. As de Richleau read it his forebodings that it might be the harbinger of misfortune were swiftly dissipated, and he became greatly intrigued by its contents.

He well remembered his cousin, Count Ivan Plackoff, an adventurous, courageous and autocratic noble, whom he had succeeded in rescuing from execution by the Bolsheviks during the Russian Revolution in 1917. When the Whites had been finally defeated and all hope of restoring a Czar to the Imperial Throne had gone, they had dispersed all over the world to make a living as best they could. Many of them had gone to China and to Constantinople, others who had money invested abroad had settled in the south of France, Paris and other European capitals. But Count Ivan, for some reason known only to himself, had decided to make his home in Ceylon.

During the twenties de Richleau had heard from him occasionally, so knew that he not only found life there agreeable but was well on his way to remaking his fortune. Ceylon is one of the richest countries in the world in gems and semi-precious stones, and the Count had acquired an estate that he had named after an old family property in the Crimea, Olenevka, in the jewel-mining area. Being a ruthless man who had inherited the views of his less humane forbears that serfs existed only to produce wealth for their masters, he had driven the Ceylonese natives he employed into making his mines pay an unusually
high dividend. But after a few years he had ceased to write and de Richleau had no idea what had happened to him.

From the solicitor's letter it emerged that he had died in 1937 and, having no close relatives, was presumed to have left Olenevka to his estate manager, a Mr. Ukwatte d'Azavedo, who, like many middle-class Ceylonese, claimed Portuguese descent. The will had been witnessed by one Pedro Fernando, the Count's butler-valet, another native who had inherited a Portuguese name from some remote progenitor, and his wife Vinala, who had been the Count's cook. In consequence d'Azavedo had entered unopposed on his rich inheritance.

But a few months previously Pedro, on being told by his doctor that he had only a few weeks to live, and being a Roman Catholic, had confessed to his local priest that he had known the will to be a forgery, and witnessed it only because d'Azavedo had bribed him and his wife to do so with a sufficient sum of money to keep them in comfort during their old age.

The priest had persuaded him that it was his duty to leave a signed statement to that effect, which he had done; and on his death the priest had sent it to Count Ivan's solicitors. The senior member of the firm had then recalled that the Count had some years previous to his death made a genuine will leaving everything to his cousin the Duke, in recognition of de Richleau having saved his life during the Revolution.

Now, the writer of the letter suggested that his firm should start proceedings on the Duke's behalf to claim his inheritance, and that he should come out to Ceylon to see the valuable property which would be his after the legal formalities had been observed.

It was a long time since de Richleau had travelled outside Europe and over thirty years since he had visited Ceylon. He remembered the island as an exceptionally beautiful place, so the idea of going there again appealed to him. Still toying with the idea, he dropped off to sleep.

Meanwhile Trusscott and Fleur had settled themselves in a belvedere at the far end of the garden, where its walks, bordered with flowering shrubs and orange and lemon trees in blossom, ended in a steep slope of rocky outcrop. Below them lay the
Ionian Straits, an almost unbelievable blue. For many centuries they had been the scene of naval battles between Christians and Turks, for Corfu had been the last great bastion held in turn by the Knights and Venetians against the Infidel hordes in their attempts to conquer southern Europe; but now the placid waters were broken here and there only by the spreading ripples in the wake of half a dozen fishing vessels. Across the Straits, some ten miles away but in the clear air looking far nearer, lay the rugged coast of Albania. Beyond it rose the lofty snow-covered peaks of the Epiros mountains, their chain falling away to lesser heights towards the south where the tip of Corfu curved in almost to meet the coast of Greece.

The town of Corfu was about five miles to the north, but could not be seen from the villa owing to the high wooded peninsula of Kanoni that lay between them. Yet the view from the belvedere in that direction was breath-taking in its beauty. Far below, from the blue waters of the bay there rose two small islands on which stood ancient monasteries and tall cypresses; and the peninsula itself had the appearance of another, larger island, for, on its landward side to the south of the town, the sea formed a wide, mile-long lagoon.

As Trusscott had arrived only just before lunch it was the first time the two young people had been alone together and while walking through the garden they had exchanged only platitudes; so now Fleur said:

‘I'm so glad you turned up. All this picture-postcard scenery is quite marvellous, I know, but I'm much more interested in people and I'm dying to hear what you've been up to all this time. Tell all with no holds barred.'

He smiled at her. ‘There's not much to tell. Getting through college is no small undertaking these days. The standard gets higher every year and competition's fierce.'

Fleur made a grimace. ‘You're telling me! I've been at it three years longer than you have. Work, work and more bloody work. There were times when I nearly threw my hand in.'

‘But you didn't. And you got your M.A. You must be quite a blue-stocking.'

‘Do I look it?'

He regarded her thoughtfully. She was taller than her mother but only of medium height. Her eyes were the same colour as Marie Lou's, but neither so large nor so vivid, and although her figure was good she was much slimmer. Her face was longer, ending in a round, aggressive chin indicating her determination to get what she wanted. A good straight nose and a full, beautifully modelled mouth were her best features. Together with her violet eyes and copper-coloured hair, they made her decidedly good-looking.

After a moment he said, ‘I can't answer that one. In the past blue-stockings were most always plain Janes, and these days there aren't any. Care of teeth, hair and skin in childhood and all the beauty aids available afterwards have put an end to the species. Contrariwise, now most girls have to get them a job, some of the prettiest have their little heads crammed full of facts and figures.'

She nodded. ‘You're right about all the girls of our generation making the most of what they've got both in looks and brains. Being a natural honey-pot doesn't cut the ice it did; it's personality that gets the chaps steamed up about one.'

‘Well, unless you've changed in the last four years you've plenty of that, and you're a good-looker into the bargain.'

‘Thanks for the bouquet. But tell me about yourself.'

‘As I said, I had to concentrate hard to make the grade, but I felt it was up to me not to let my old man down, and this seven months in Europe is the pay-off.'

‘Where have you been so far?'

‘Spain, Portugal and Greece; from here I'll do Italy. Then as the weather warms up I'll go other places further north: Paris, Brussels, Munich, Vienna; they've all got marvellous collections.'

‘By the time you've done Italy I should have thought you would be sick of the sight of pictures. What were the night spots like in Spain?'

‘Not bad; but I didn't go to many. The señoritas are a pretty poor lot as dancing partners.'

Fleur raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that the only use you had for them?'

‘Well, yes. Going places with that sort of girl in foreign cities can land one in a packet of trouble.'

‘That doesn't stop the chaps I know. Evidently you're the faithful type and the truth is that you've got a sweetie at home. Some poppet you've been going steady with at your college.'

‘You're wrong. Dartmouth is not co-ed.'

‘What rotten luck that your father should have sent you there. One gathers that at most universities in the States it's a free-for-all and sex is counted part of the education.'

‘Sure; but it was just as well there were no girls at Dartmouth. It was my own choice because I'm pretty good on skis. I was one of the college team in fact, and our team sends several skiers to the Olympic Games. For that you've got to keep real fit and girls and ski-jumping don't go together.'

‘I see. But what about the hols? Surely you let up a bit then?'

He shrugged. ‘Winters we go down to our old home in the South. It's a lovely place but miles from the nearest town, and I spend most of my time riding or fishing. Summers we spend at Cape Cod, and there's plenty doing there. The sailing and bathing are super.'

Fleur gave him a puzzled look. He was six foot two of splendid young manhood, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, bronzed-skinned. His brown eyes held humour and intelligence; his very ugliness was of the kind that invariably attracts women. Suddenly she exclaimed:

‘For heaven's sake, Truss, don't tell me you're a queer!'

His dark head went back and his big mouth opened wide in a great guffaw. ‘Heavens no! Whatever gave you that idea? Just my not going whoring in Madrid? No, I'm as normal as they come, thank God.'

‘But you don't seem the least interested in girls.'

‘Oh, I wouldn't say that. But I don't get to know many except when we're at the Cape. There, of course, I dance every night, and I'm good enough at it to get more or less my pick of partners. I've nothing against necking either, for that matter. But being the heir to a mint of money has its liabilities. If I went too far with any of them they'd surely try to fix me, and I've no mind to get myself tied up yet. When the pace gets too hot I
give them the polite brush-off. There's always plenty more to choose from.'

‘So that's the form, and you really haven't got anyone in the States that you care about?'

‘No. Keep it light is my motto, then there are no entanglements and no regrets. Naturally there have been three or four I got pretty smitten with, and several times I darn' near got seduced. But what with stacks of work and lots of vigorous play one can do without that sort of thing. And, after all, I'm only just on twenty-one, so I've lots of time ahead of me for leching.'