The Affair of the Thirty-Nine Cufflinks (8 page)

'I'm sorry?

'Well, those who die violently, particularly those who have been murdered, frequently do not rest easily. Quite often they, er, walk, as the saying is.'

'You mean ghosts? Thankfully, no, nothing of that kind.'

'Oh.'

She seemed, the Countess thought, rather disappointed.

Chapter Fifteen

At three forty-five tea was served and shortly afterwards the taxis began taking those who were returning to town back to the station. By ten past four the last of them had departed, leaving just the eight beneficiaries remaining. With the reading of the will now imminent, these were all feeling various degrees of nervousness or expectation. Clara, Dorothy, Gregory, Timothy and Miss Mackenzie retired to their rooms; Penny, who had absolutely no interest in art, made Tommy, who had just as little, take her to look at the paintings in the gallery; and Gerry had a long chat with Stella, with whom she had struck up an immediate rapport. Later, they were joined by Tommy and Penny; the latter, seeming to have quite got over her initial distrust of Stella, questioned her eagerly about both life in New York and her opinions of the latest fashion trends.

At four forty Hawkins departed for the station to meet Mr Bradley. The train was on time, and it was shortly before five that Merryweather showed the solicitor into the drawing-room, where the Earl and Countess were waiting.

He did not look at all as the Earl had expected, being a shortish man, nearly bald, with thick horn-rimmed glasses, and given to quick, rather bird-like movements. Lady Burford offered him tea, but he refused. 'Perhaps after the reading, if you would be so kind.'

'You'd like to start straight away?' the Earl asked.

'Whatever is convenient to you, my lord, but there seems little point in delaying. I expect the legatees will be anxious to hear their fates. And as it will be a somewhat unusual occasion in several respects, I admit I am anxious to get it over with.'

'Hm, that sounds interesting. Very well. I thought we'd go to the library. There's a table there we can sit around. If we did it in here, people would be scattered all over the room. You'd practically have to shout.'

'Splendid.'

Lord Burford rang the bell and when Merryweather answered, told him to ask the others to join them in the library. The Earl, the Countess and Bradley made their way there themselves. Lord Burford sat Bradley at the head of the table, and the solicitor opened his briefcase and extracted a sheaf of papers. Gerry and Stella were the first to arrive, followed quickly by Clara and Dorothy, Jean Mackenzie, Gregory, Timothy and finally Tommy and Penny. When they were all seated, Bradley looked round the ring of expectant faces and cleared his throat nervously. He seemed a little unhappy. 'Before I read the will, there is something quite unusual that must be done. My client made a specific request that the proceedings be opened in a particular manner - a highly, er, unconventional manner, but one she was very insistent upon. I had better read the actual words of her request.' He glanced down at the papers in front of him. ' "I fear that there will have been much gloom and misery at my funeral and that at this moment everyone present is looking especially sombre. I wish to dispel that mood. So I request that before my will is read, everybody joins in singing
She'll Be Coming Round The Mountain
. I ask this because I have a firm hope that I may be doing that very thing - the mountain in question being Zion - just about then." '

Mr Bradley looked up at faces wearing expressions ranging from the blank to the aghast - and one face which bore a look of sheer delight.

'How absolutely topping!' Gerry exclaimed. 'Good for Aunt Florrie! That's what I want at my funeral. I shall put it in my will, too. In a few generations it'll become a family tradition.'

'I'm delighted you approve, Lady Geraldine. I don't know if anyone here feels capable of starting the piece in question. I have a made a note of the words.' He held up a sheet of writing paper. 'They are extremely simple, and I could make an effort, but if anybody else . . .' He petered out and looked hopefully around.

Now, much to her mother's disappointment, Gerry was not musical. As a little girl, she had gone through several piano teachers, who had left saddened and with their self-confidence badly shaken. There was, however, one good thing to be said of her singing voice: it was powerful. A friend of hers had once likened it to that of Ethel Merman. Greatly flattered by this comparison, Gerry had set about - mostly when driving her beloved Hispano-Suiza - perfecting what she believed was a first-rate impersonation of the young Broadway star. This she needed no encouragement to perform at parties, though she could not help noticing, and being rather hurt by the fact, that she was rarely asked to do an encore. Now, though, she suddenly realised that her big moment had come. 'Gladly,' she said happily. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and let them have it at the top of her voice.

'
SHE'LL BE COMING ROUND THE MOUNTAIN, WHEN SHE COMES
.'

She could not have hoped to make a greater impact. Everyone round the table gave a noticeable jump, Clara adding a startled 'Oh, my.'

'
She'll be coming round the mountain, when she comes
,' Gerry continued solo, then stopped. 'Come on. What's the matter with you? Can't you accede to an old lady's dying wish? Now let's start again. Follow me.' She raised her hands and began conducting as she recommenced.

Tommy, with a broad grin on his face, was the first to join in, followed quickly by Penny, and after a few seconds by Stella. The others opened and closed their mouths slowly, making vague humming and moaning noises.

The verse ended - after what to Lady Burford, at least, seemed an extremely long time. There was a sudden hush, which was broken by Mr Bradley. 'Well, thank you very much, Lady Ger—'

'
SINGING EYE-YAI-YIPPEE-YIPPE-YAI, YIPPE-YAI,
' Gerry bellowed. Lord Burford closed his eyes, as her supporting trio took up the refrain.

As the final 'yippe-yai' faded, Mr Bradley spoke hastily and firmly. 'That was most spirited and I'm sure would have pleased my client immensely. She would not, though, have expected more than one verse and one chorus,' (a murmured, 'Hear, hear' from the Earl) 'so I will now proceed with the reading of the will.' With a decided air of disdain, he dropped his copy of the lyrics into a nearby waste paper basket and immediately became more businesslike.

'We are here for the reading of the last will and testament of my late client, the Honourable Mrs Florence Saunders. If everyone is agreeable, I will omit the preamble, containing the various legal technicalities and provisos, appointment of and instructions to her executor, et cetera, and get straight to the bequests.'

Timothy looked slightly disapproving, but didn't speak. 'Jolly good idea,' said the Earl.

'The will is dated just five weeks before her death, but I perhaps should anticipate any questions by saying that only a few minor alterations to her earlier will were made at that time, and they were mostly in the nature of comments, rather than actual changes in the provisions. Very well, to proceed. There are very adequate bequests to her servants, of which she informed them some time before her death, and to various charities: The Variety Artistes' Benevolent Association, The National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children and the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. I have, of course, copies of the will, for anyone wishing to see the full details.

'I should explain at the outset that most of the wording of this will is my client's own. Now to the principal bequests.' He began to read. ' "To my dear great nephew, George, Twelfth Earl of Burford, I regret I am unable to leave the revolver with which Jesse James shot Billy the Kid or vice versa, which is no doubt what he would really like. But failing this, I give and bequeath the portrait of the Sixth Earl, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, given to my husband and me by his brother, the later Tenth Earl, on the occasion of our wedding, in the belief that Alderley is its proper home and where it will complement the portrait of the Fifth Earl by the same artist, which already hangs there." '

Lord Burford raised his eyebrows. 'My word, that is kind of her. I remember being told the story of that, but I had no idea she still had it.'

'It's been in storage,' Miss Mackenzie put in quietly.

'It will fill a gap in the gallery,' said the Countess.

Bradley resumed reading. ' "To Lavinia, Countess of Burford, in recognition of her numerous kindnesses over many years, I give and bequeath my Georgian sterling silver tea service, which I hope will supplement the similar dinner service she already possesses." '

Lady Burford beamed. 'It certainly will. That is most generous.'

' "To my great-great niece, Lady Geraldine Saunders, who has always brought a sparkle into my life, I give and bequeath the diamond bracelet, which was my beloved husband's wedding present to me." '

Gerry's face lit up. 'She showed me that once. It's beautiful. Oh, thank you, Florrie, I'll treasure it always.'

Bradley continued: ' "To my great nephew, Timothy Saunders, I give and bequeath the seventeen volumes of the first edition of the complete works of Charles Dickens, in the sincere hope that it will encourage him to read something other than law books." '

For the first time that day, Timothy's sculpted-like features seemed briefly to soften. 'How splendid. I have always been meaning to read Dickens through from beginning to end, but to do it from the first edition of the collected works . . . more than I could have hoped.'

' "To my great-great niece, Penelope Saunders, I give and bequeath the pearl necklace which was my husband's gift to me on the occasion of our thirtieth wedding anniversary, trusting that the husband she is so ardently seeking, and whom I am sure she will find very soon, will wish to give her a gift she will value as much as mine when and if she reaches her thirtieth anniversary." '

For a split second Gerry thought that Penny looked a little disappointed, but she quickly covered it up. 'Pearls? Oo, I haven't got any pearls. That's lovely.' Her lack of any other reaction to the rather involved syntax of the paragraph suggested that she had not really grasped its meaning.

'You must take great care of them, Penelope,' said her father. 'Only wear them on very special occasions. They must be kept in the safe the rest of the time.'

' "To my great nephew, Gregory Carstairs," ' Bradley started, but at that point came to the end of the page and he paused for a moment. Gregory was staring at him rather in the manner of a dog hoping against hope that he was going to be taken for a walk.

Bradley continued from the next page, ' ". . . knowing of his deep interest in political history, I give and bequeath the Chippendale desk, which has for many years occupied the study of my late husband, and which was previously owned by both William Pitt the Elder and the Younger, and whose wisdom will I hope, through it, be communicated to him." '

'Oh. Ah. Yes.' Gregory's words came like a series of little explosions. 'Most interesting. Great historical connections. I'm sure I'll be the envy of many of my colleagues. Capital.' But his face looked rather grim.

' "To Miss Jean Mackenzie," ' Bradley went on, ' "in gratitude for many years' devoted friendship and loyalty, I give and bequeath the sum of two thousand five hundred pounds, free of duty, together with the furniture from the room which she has occupied in my house and ten other pieces of furniture of her choice." '

Jean Mackenzie gave a gasp. 'Oh, how generous! How very generous! I never imagined . . . It will ease so many worries.'

Stella, sitting next to her, patted her hand.

'The Testator adds two comments,' Bradley said. 'Firstly, "I am putting her on her honour to give none of this bequest to any medium or psychic and warn her that if she does so I will have a serious bone to pick with her when we next meet, which I trust will not be for many years yet." '

'How typical,' Jean Mackenzie said. 'Yes, indeed, I promise, Florrie.'

'Secondly, the Testator says: "Thank you for not peeking." ' Jean's mouth fell open. 'I - I - how did she know?'

'My client foresaw that question. I was to say to you: "By your face, when you handled the envelope." '

'Oh, what an amazing woman she was! I'm so glad now that I didn't. So glad.'

' "To my great nephew, Thomas Lambert, I give and bequeath—" ' Bradley cleared his throat. He seemed decidedly embarrassed. Tommy was leaning forward expectantly. ' "I give and bequeath precisely nothing. He is a worthless young scoundrel, who doesn't deserve a penny." '

There was a gasp round the table. Tommy's expression did not change, but his face drained of colour.

It was Penny who was the first to speak. 'Oh, Tommy, darling, how awful! I'm so, so sorry.' She put her hand on his. For practically the first time in his life Tommy was unable to speak. He just gulped and looked down at the table.

'My client's next words: "It's all right, Tommy, that was a practical joke - one that you richly deserved to have played on you." '

Tommy jerked his head up as Bradley continued. 'I should explain that the last three sentences are not part of the will, but which Mrs Saunders insisted I inserted at that point.' He held up a sheet of notepaper. 'I now revert to the will proper. 'To my ever-entertaining great nephew, Thomas Lambert, I give and bequeath the sum of fifteen hundred pounds, free of duty, in the hope if not the expectation that he will use it wisely." '

Tommy gave his head a shake. His colour was returning. He managed a sickly grin. 'The old b— the old dear. She really got me, there. Suppose I did deserve it, though. I really get fifteen hundred quid?'

'Of course you do, silly,' Penny said. Bradley nodded.

'Gosh, that's hunky-dory.' He seemed already to have got over the shock. 'She needn't have worried. I've got some absolutely spiffing ideas.'

' "To my great niece, Stella Simmons," ' Bradley continued, ' "I give and bequeath the sum of fifteen hundred pounds, free of duty. It was a regret to me that I never visited the United States, but her most interesting letters over a number of years, and the stories she has entertained me with since her return, have made me feel that I really do know New York." '