The Road to Rowanbrae (22 page)

Mysie had not allowed herself to think about it. ‘I'll have to find another job. Other ladies must need housekeepers.'

‘I am willing to provide a reference if you need it.'

‘Thank you very much, Mrs Phillip. I'll remember that.'

‘One thing I ought to mention, however – I cannot possibly let you have your old job back. I have found an exceptionally good cook meantime, and …'

‘Oh, I never even dreamt you would take me back.'

A slight sigh escaped the painted lips. ‘I thought I should make it perfectly clear. Well, I suppose I must go and talk to all the old ladies who are still in the sitting room. I trust that you have everything organised here?'

‘Yes, everything's ready.'

On her way to the door, Mrs Phillip turned round. ‘Mr Coutts will be reading the will afterwards. This place will likely have to be sold, since my brother and I both have houses of our own, so I would advise you to find new employment as soon as you can, both of you.'

So that's what Mr Coutts was, Mysie thought – a solicitor. When he was here that day, about seven or eight weeks ago, he must have been helping Miss Wallace to make out her will, and the other two people would have been there as witnesses, likely a clerk and clerkess. As the sound of Mrs Phillip's footsteps receded, Maudie whispered, ‘I wouldn't like to get on her wrong side. She sounds a right tartar to me.'

‘She's not really. She was good to me, and she recommended me for this job.' Thinking that the maid might wonder why she had ever left Burnlea House, Mysie cast a quick glance at her, but Maudie was filling another milk jug.

When the cars returned, and while she and Maudie made sure that everyone had something to eat and drink, Mr Coutts drew Mysie aside. ‘Mr Wallace and Mrs Phillip are to be remaining behind for the reading of the will, and I want you and Miss Low to be present, too.'

Knowing that Gregor and his sister had no other relatives left alive, Mysie had taken it for granted that their aunt's estate would be divided between them, but supposed that the old lady had left Maudie and her a little memento. She was glad, for it would be nice to have something to remember her by.

It was fully an hour later before the chattering neighbours and friends left and Gregor rang the bell. Going along the hall, Maudie nudged Mysie and whispered, ‘I hope Miss Wallace has left me the little clock on her dressing table. I think she knew I always liked it.'

Mysie said nothing. Whatever she got, she would treasure it for the rest of her life. In the sitting room, she sat on the edge of a seat and twisted her hands nervously as Mr Coutts laid a document on the table. ‘As you all know,' he began, looking round them with a faint smile, ‘Miss Wallace knew her own mind. This will, drawn up only two months ago, revokes her previous will, and she insisted that it be made out the way she dictated so that no confusion would arise over complicated legal terms – her words, not mine. However, you are free to ask me at any time about anything you cannot understand.'

‘I am sure we will understand if Aunt Beatrice dictated it,' Margaret Phillip said, impatiently. ‘Go ahead, Mr Coutts.'

He bent his head to read. ‘To Maud Low, who remained with me for longer than any of my other maidservants, and who never grovelled nor snivelled, I leave my dressing table clock, which I know she has always admired, also the sum of £300, which I am sure she will put to good use.' Maud's gasp made him stop briefly to smile to her. ‘For the children of my housekeeper, Alexander and Georgina Duncan, I wish the sum of £500 each to be placed in trust until they attain the age of twenty-one.'

‘That's just like Aunt Beatrice,' Margaret Phillip observed with a forced smile at her ex-cook, who was so overcome that she could not speak. ‘She thought a lot of your children.'

‘For Robert and Beatrice Phillip, my grand-nephew and -niece, £500 each to be placed in trust until they attain the age of twenty-one.' Observing Mrs Phillip's stony face, the solicitor rushed on. ‘To my housekeeper, Maisie Duncan, who looked after me so devotedly and kept my household running so smoothly, and who was like a daughter to me, I give the sum of £2000, with a further £500 to be used to complete her children's education.'

Numbed by the large amount, Mysie was taken aback when Mrs Phillip said, her mouth working spasmodically, ‘Congratulations, Mrs Duncan. You and your family have done very well out of my aunt, haven't you?'

Gregor jerked up. ‘That is uncalled for, Margaret.'

‘She must have worked on Aunt Beatrice to get her to change her will, but you are so besotted with her that you can't see the kind of person she is.'

‘I am besotted with her,' here Gregor's eyes rested fondly on Mysie for a second, ‘but there is no truth in your allegation. Aunt Beatrice would never have allowed anyone to influence her, not even Mrs Duncan, although Aunt was very fond of her.'

Bewildered and hurt, Mysie murmured, miserably, ‘I'm sorry, Mrs Phillip. I didn't know … if I had, I'd have told her I didn't want it. Please believe me, I didn't know.'

‘I'm quite sure you didn't, and I apologise for my sister's rudeness.' Gregor glared at Margaret.

Lowering his eyebrows, which he had raised at Mrs Phillip's outburst, Mr Coutts went on, fully anticipating more trouble. ‘To my niece, Margaret Phillip, the sum of £2000 only.'

Her gasp confirmed his fears. ‘What about
my
children's education?' she cried, nostrils flaring.

The solicitor shook his head. ‘Miss Wallace seemed to think that they were your husband's responsibility.' His attention went to the document again. ‘To my nephew, Gregor Wallace, I leave the residue of my estate, including my house.' He looked up again. ‘I can assure you all that Miss Wallace knew exactly what she was doing on the day this will was drawn up, and she appointed me as executor with the strict instructions that her wishes were to be carried out to the letter.'

Margaret Phillip glowered at her brother. ‘I might have known that you would be the favoured one. I am to get less than her housekeeper, and you are to get everything else.'

In an attempt to pour oil on the turbulent waters, Mr Coutts said, ‘I should perhaps warn you, Mr Wallace, that there will not be a great deal left after all the bequests are met and all the expenses settled. And now, if you will excuse me, I must be going, but if you should wish to consult me about anything, I will be only too pleased to advise you.'

Waiting until the solicitor went out, Gregor gave vent to his anger at his sister. ‘Well done, Margaret! That was a proper exhibition – God knows what that Mr Coutts must think of us. It took you all your time to visit Aunt Beatrice about once in every six months, and Maisie has been at her beck and call for twenty-four hours a day for years, so what the hell did you expect? That she would leave everything to you? Well, let me tell you, supposing I get nothing, I am very pleased that she showed her appreciation to the person who did most for her.'

‘You obviously know nothing about Mrs Duncan's past history,' Mrs Phillip shouted. ‘After her husband left her, she lived with another man until …'

‘I know about that,' Gregor cut in, his hands clenching, ‘and so did Aunt Beatrice. Maisie told us that herself.'

Not having expected this, his sister paused a moment before going on, sarcastically, ‘And did she tell you why she had to leave Burnlea and come here to work?'

‘Yes, she did, and I thought none the less of her.' His voice was lower, his fury calming now that he had got it out of his system. ‘You can tell me nothing that I don't already know, but unlike you, I would never have dragged it out again.'

For the past minute or two, waves of nausea had swept over Mysie, and the angry voices had come to her as if from a great distance. It was almost as if she were hearing a discussion about an unknown person, but the silence after Gregor's last words seemed to have more impact. It penetrated her benumbed brain then that they were talking about her. ‘I'm sorry that I'm the cause of you …'

‘It has nothing to do with you.' Gregor laid his hand on her sleeve. ‘None of this was your doing, and if my sister had any sense in her head, she would see that.'

Margaret Phillip raised her head slowly. ‘I suppose I should have come to see Aunt Beatrice more often, but I knew that she was being well looked after, and I was always so busy.'

‘I'm sure she did not blame you for that. By the way, she once told me she wanted your Beatrice to have her jewellery, as her namesake, so I will hand them over as soon as I can. I believe that they are antique pieces inherited from her mother, and are quite valuable.'

Giving no indication that she was appeased by this, Margaret got to her feet and walked out. Gregor leaned back. ‘I am extremely sorry that you were a witness to that, Maisie.'

Mysie frowned. ‘I wish your aunt hadn't left me anything. She should have known that it would just cause trouble.'

‘Did you ever know my aunt to bother about creating trouble?' Standing up, he noticed that the maid was still there, her eyes round, her mouth gaping. ‘I'm glad that you were included in the will, Maudie, but I still have something to discuss with Mrs Duncan. Would you mind leaving us now? Say nothing to Sandy nor Gina about the trusts, because I'm sure their mother will want to tell them herself.'

‘Yes, sir … no, sir.' The flustered girl almost ran out.

Gregor sat down next to Mysie. ‘I'd forgotten about her, but I think she is capable of keeping all this to herself. Don't let what Margaret said worry you, she'll get over it.'

‘But she was a relative and I wasn't. I'd have been happy with just an ornament as a keepsake.'

‘When my aunt told me that she had made a new will, I hoped she had left you the house, but perhaps she thought that this way you might change your mind about marrying me.'

‘Oh!' Mysie looked dismayed. ‘You told her about that?'

‘I did, but won't you reconsider now, Maisie?'

‘I can't, Gregor, I'm sorry.'

‘Don't you feel the least bit fond of me?'

‘I am fond of you, but not enough to marry you.'

His mouth gave a wry twist. ‘Some day, perhaps. But I am truly happy for you and your children, though Sandy's future is assured anyway, provided he passes all his examinations.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I intend taking him in with me. Didn't you realise that was why my aunt told him to go in for Law? And Gina can be …'

Mysie jumped up, feeling that it was all too much for her. ‘Are you staying for tea?'

Perplexed by the sudden change, he said, coldly, ‘No, thank you. My housekeeper is expecting me back.'

She could tell that he was hurt, but was sure that she would break down if she didn't go now. ‘Goodbye then, Gregor.' She hurried out, and heard the front door close behind him as she went along the hall.

When she went into the kitchen, Maudie started babbling to her about their good fortune, without once mentioning the big difference between the amounts they were to receive, and she waited until the maid ran out of breath before informing her children about the trusts. Gina was too young to understand, but Sandy looked thoughtful. ‘There's no strings attached, are there? I can spend that money on anything I want to, once I'm twenty-one?'

‘Yes, legally, but I would advise you not to touch it. It's always better to have something at your back for emergencies.'

‘Will Mr Wallace be coming here to live?'

Maudie's question startled Mysie. She hadn't thought of the consequences of the terms of the will. ‘He didn't say what he was going to do.'

‘If he does, he might keep us on.'

Mysie was glad when Maudie went home and Gina went to bed. Sandy was in the sitting room studying and it gave her peace to think. She couldn't work as housekeeper to Gregor, that was one thing definite. He might propose every day in the hope that he would wear her down. But he wouldn't want to move in here. He already had a house … and a housekeeper. She would have to find different employment, whatever happened – unless the house
was
sold and the new owners kept her on.

Gregor called the following day. ‘You two ladies must be very anxious to know how you stand,' he said, as he took a seat in the kitchen. ‘I am sure you will be pleased to know that I have decided to sell my house in Forest Avenue. It's too big for me, and my housekeeper has told me she wants to retire, so I would be very grateful if you both carried on as you have been doing – with an increase in wages.'

Mysie shook her head. ‘I'm sorry, I can't stay on as your housekeeper. I intend to look for another position.'

Unable to argue with her in front of Maudie, he turned to the maid. ‘Would you be prepared to take over?'

‘Oh, Mr Wallace, I'd love to.' She looked from him to Mysie. ‘But are you both sure …?'

‘Quite sure,' Mysie said, firmly.

Hesitating for only a moment, Maudie said, ‘Tom, that's my young man, wants us to get married, but he can't find a house. Would you consider letting us have the two rooms on the second floor, Mr Wallace? You could deduct the rent from my wages.'

Gregor's laugh rang through the kitchen. ‘My aunt would have loved this. Yes, Maudie, you may have those two rooms, and as soon as Mrs Duncan leaves, I will engage a new maid and you will become housekeeper. Meantime, I would be obliged if both of you would clear out anything you think I wouldn't need, and all my aunt's personal possessions. There is no hurry, and you may take anything you like that isn't of obvious great value. Now, Mrs Duncan, I would like to talk to you in the sitting room for a moment.'

He went ahead of her and waited until she closed the wooden venetian blinds, so that she could light the gas mantle. ‘Now, Maisie,' he said when she sat down, ‘how are you going to find another position?'