We That Are Left (56 page)

The lawyer's frown deepened. He turned to Phyllis. ‘You are aware, Miss Melville, that your father made recent alterations to the terms of his will?'

‘How recent?' Phyllis asked.

‘Some two or so weeks ago. After his first seizure but before the second.'

‘Did you know that, Jess?'

Jessica shook her head.

‘He didn't speak to either of you about these . . . adjustments?' Mr Rawlinson asked.

‘Not to me,' Jessica said. Phyllis shook her head.

‘I see. Mr Greenwood, I wonder if I might ask you step out of the room for a few minutes while I speak privately with Sir Aubrey's daughters.'

‘For God's sake,' Phyllis said. ‘Whatever it is you have to tell us, having Oscar here isn't going to change it.'

The clerk looked sideways at Mr Rawlinson. The lawyer sucked in his cheeks.

‘Very well,' he said. He opened his briefcase and took out a folder. ‘On December 9, 1919, your father signed a new will and testament in the presence of two witnesses who deemed him to be in sound mind. In this will he stipulated the payment of an annuity to be agreed with the will's executors and commensurate with the convertible assets of the estate to both of you, his daughters, to cease upon the occasion of your marriages. A similar arrangement has been made for Lady Melville. The Ellinghurst estate, however, he bequeathed in its entirety to Mr Greenwood.'

There was a silence. Oscar could not breathe. It was as though someone had punched all the air from his lungs.

‘I don't understand,' Phyllis said very quietly. ‘Why would he do that?' Beside her Jessica covered her mouth with her hand.

‘There are conditions,' Mr Rawlinson said. ‘Mr Greenwood's inheritance is conditional upon his assumption of the Melville name and coat of arms by Royal Licence. Should he agree to do so, his heirs will henceforth become heirs to the estate. An additional clause further stipulates that both you and Jessica must be permitted to reside here at Ellinghurst for as long as you remain unmarried. It is your home. Sir Aubrey was very clear on that point.'

Jessica's leg was trembling. She pressed down on her knee to steady it.

‘Are there any others?' she asked. ‘Any other clauses?'

Mr Rawlinson shook his head. ‘Mr Greenwood will not, of course, inherit the baronetcy. That passes by law to Evelyn Melville, Sir Aubrey's legal heir.'

‘Why Oscar?' Phyllis demanded. ‘Why him?'

‘I understand that, as his wife's only godson and close friend of the family, Sir Aubrey considered Oscar his heir by proxy. He was adamant that Ellinghurst should pass only to someone as devoted to the house as he had been, someone who would do everything in his power to preserve it and the Melville legacy. He did not believe that his cousin would honour that obligation.'

‘And what if Oscar doesn't want it?' Phyllis said. ‘What then?'

‘I'm not sure I—'

‘Father obviously assumed that he'd agree, that he'd give up his name and everything else to keep this place limping on, but what if he won't? What if that's not what he wants?'

Mr Rawlinson folded his hands. ‘If the terms of the will are not met the estate reverts to Sir Evelyn.'

‘And gets sold,' Jessica added.

‘That's not Oscar's problem,' Phyllis said. ‘How could Father do this to him, try to saddle him with this . . . this albatross? He's not even a member of this family! Why didn't he leave it to that nurse of his? To Jim Pugh and his bloody dog?'

‘The dog died.'

‘Shut up, Jess, for God's sake—'

‘No, you shut up,' Jessica cried. ‘Father wanted Oscar in this family, don't you see? He wanted—' She broke off, biting her lip.

‘What?' Phyllis challenged. ‘To stifle Oscar's potential just as he stifled his own?'

Jessica glared at her. ‘He wanted him to have Ellinghurst. He knew Oscar wouldn't let him down.'

‘He told you that?'

‘Yes. I mean, not directly, not in those words, but he tried to. Even when he could hardly speak he tried to.'

‘And you never thought to mention it to me?'

‘Why should I have? It didn't have anything to do with you.'

Oscar closed his eyes.

‘Mr Greenwood,' Mr Rawlinson said coldly, ‘are you unwell?'

Oscar did not answer. There was too much noise in his head. Sir Aubrey had known.
The only certainty is that we can never be certain
. But Sir Aubrey had been certain, certain enough to leave Ellinghurst to Oscar—Ellinghurst, which he loved as much as he loved his own daughters. More, perhaps. He had known, and he had known that Oscar knew too, that he could never betray the trust that Sir Aubrey had placed in him. Oscar Melville. Names meant nothing, Oscar knew that as well as anyone, but Oscar Melville was who he was. The name sang in his head like a struck glass. Sir Aubrey had been right, Oscar did know. He had known all along.

Someone put a hand on his elbow. He flinched, pulling his arm away.

‘Steady there,' Jessica said. ‘Sit down. It's the shock. It's . . . it's a surprise for everyone.' When he bent his knees his legs gave way beneath him, dropping him into the chair. His distress made her feel very tender towards him.

‘Don't listen to Phyllis,' she said softly. ‘It doesn't matter what she thinks. Father was right. Ellinghurst will be safe with you.'

She glared at Phyllis but Phyllis only stared into the middle distance like one of her sphinxes, surveying the bleached emptiness of the African desert. There were voices in the Great Hall. Jessica heard the brisk tap of footsteps. Then the door to the morning room flew open.

‘Eleanor,' Jessica said dazedly.

‘My poor darlings,' Eleanor said, holding out her arms. ‘I came just as soon as I could.'

When Jessica came down the next morning she found an envelope with her name on it on the breakfast table. The letter was from Oscar.

I have to go. I am humbled and daunted by your father's faith in me but I cannot pretend it has not come as a shock. I need some time alone to think. Please send my apologies to your mother.

Eleanor nodded when she heard. She said that she was glad, that it saved them the awkwardness of insisting that he leave.

‘Except that we couldn't. I mean, it's his house now, isn't it?'

Eleanor stared at Jessica. ‘But of course it isn't. We'll contest.'

‘For what? So that the house can go to Cousin Evelyn and be sold?'

‘You would rather it was stolen from under your nose? That scheming little runt preyed on your father, don't you see? He took advantage of him when he was not in his right mind.'

‘That's not true. Father knew exactly—'

‘Aubrey would never have left Ellinghurst to . . . to a stranger. Flesh and blood, that was what mattered to your father. The Melville line.' Suddenly her face changed. She put a hand to her mouth. There was a strange light in her eyes. ‘Oh my God. So it was her. It was her all along. God, it must have gone on for months.'

‘I haven't the first idea what you're talking about.'

‘I knew it. I knew your father wouldn't be able to help himself. The way she flaunted that penniless Hun, it was so crude, so clumsy, a shrewder man would never have fallen for it, but then no one could ever have accused Aubrey of shrewdness. Oh God, how he hated it, Sylvia making googly eyes at that long-haired German good-for-nothing after all those years of trailing at his heels like a spaniel, hanging on his every word. It drove him absolutely to distraction. For once in her life she had him just where she wanted him.'

‘You're not making any sense.'

‘Oh, but I'm making perfect sense. I was expecting you and horribly ill, you were sucking the life out of me, and he swore, he swore that there was no one else, that all of that was over,
but it wasn't true. I knew it, even then. Aubrey was a terrible liar. Sylvia Carey, on the other hand, was a master. She could have been caught flat on her back with her legs around a man's neck and still manage to convince the world she was the blessed Virgin Mary.'

Jessica thought of the letter in the bottom of the wardrobe. ‘For God's sake, Eleanor,' she spat. ‘That's horrible.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you like to imagine your father as some kind of saint. Well, I hate to shatter your illusions but this is what happens when people die. The truth comes out. Sylvia Carey was a duplicitous bitch who worshipped the ground your father walked on and Aubrey? Aubrey only ever pleased himself.'

‘That's not true. Father was a good man. An honourable man.'

‘Honourable? And how long did he honour the memory of his dead son, tell me that? How long before he found himself another, before he set Sylvia's bastard up in his place?'

Jessica gaped at her mother, queasy with anger and revulsion. ‘Have you entirely lost your mind? Oscar isn't . . . how could you even think that?'

‘How could I? How could anyone think otherwise? Your father would never have dreamed of relinquishing this place to anyone but a Melville. Never in a thousand years.'

‘What do you know of what Father would have done? You weren't here, Eleanor. You were never here.'

‘And now you know why. What was there here for me? A faithless husband? Another woman's child flaunting himself in my boy's place?'

Jessica clenched her fists, furious tears prickling behind her eyes. ‘You disgust me, do you know that? You and your vicious baseless theories. Father loved Oscar. Not just because Oscar is your godson and his mother was your best friend. He loved him because Oscar is a good, good man who is almost as devoted to Ellinghurst as Father was. He trusted him. He trusted him to fight.'

‘Oh, Jessica, you can't honestly believe that your father would leave Ellinghurst to Oscar Greenwood because he loves the place? Why not Pritchard? Why not Jim Pugh? This house was the only thing your father ever loved. He would have burned it to the ground before he let it pass out of the Melville line.'

Jessica dug her nails into her palms. She had never meant to confide in her mother but she could not help herself. She could not endure to listen to any more of her vicious lies. ‘And that's why he did what he did. Don't you see? Father wanted me to marry Oscar. That's why he left him the house. For us both.'

‘He told you that?'

‘Yes. He had had two strokes. He knew he was dying. He wanted to know Ellinghurst would be safe.'

‘So he arranged your marriage? How very thoughtful. And did he give you any choice in this matter?'

‘It wasn't like that. Ellinghurst is my home.'

Eleanor stared at her. She shook her head, exhaling a disbelieving laugh. ‘So Aubrey was hedging his bets? How very unsavoury.'

‘For God's sake, that's enough!' Jessica cried, flinging her arms out in fury. ‘Oscar is not Father's son!'

Coolly Eleanor picked up her teacup, eyeing her daughter over the rim. ‘And you can be quite sure of that, can you? You'd marry him anyway, to please your dead father, this boy who may or may not be your half-brother?'

‘Don't!'

‘My advice exactly. It's perfectly clear you don't love him. Besides, your children might have three heads.'

Jessica crossed her arms. She was shaking with anger. ‘Why did you come back, Eleanor?'

‘What else would I do? Aubrey was my husband.'

‘Ah, the grieving widow, back to spread her poison and seize her share of the spoils. And your Frenchman? I suppose you brought him with you?' It was only a guess but she knew
from the flicker that crossed Eleanor's face that she was right. ‘Jesus, Eleanor.' It might be amusing, she thought bitterly, if it were not so utterly pathetic. Turning, she walked towards the door and suddenly she found herself thinking with a pang of tenderness of Gerald, devastated by the death of his wife Christabel. She hoped he was all right, wherever he was.

‘I shan't let you do this,' Eleanor said quietly. ‘Rawlinson will be here at eleven. Phyllis and I shall see him, with or without you.'

Jessica shook her head. ‘No. You won't.'

‘I'm doing this for you, Jessica. Do you really imagine I can stand back after what you've told me? How could your father have even . . . ? I shan't allow it. I shall tell Rawlinson we mean to fight it, if it takes every last penny we've got. That scheming little bastard of Sylvia's will never take my son's place.'

Jessica stopped in the doorway. She turned wearily, her shoulders slack. ‘Oh, Eleanor, don't you understand? What you want doesn't matter, not any more. You can howl and rage all you like. Theo is dead. He's dead. What matters now is keeping hold of what we have left.'

‘And what is that, without Theo?'

‘If you don't know how can I begin to tell you?'

Eleanor hesitated.

‘Go back to France, Eleanor,' Jessica said. Her voice was flat. ‘We don't want you here.'

‘And if I don't?'

‘If you don't then I shall speak to Rawlinson about contesting your part of Father's legacy. He had begun divorce proceedings against you, after all, and your adultery is hardly in question. Perhaps it was not the wisest decision, in the circumstances, to bring your lover to your husband's funeral. I just hope he is patient. Do you know how long these things take to grind through the courts?'

‘Don't you dare threaten me.'

‘Oh, I wouldn't call it a threat. More of an insurance policy.'

‘You wouldn't.'

‘You don't think so? Go home, Eleanor. There's nothing left for you here. Take your Frenchman and go back to your graveyard before either of us do something we'll regret.'

‘Jessica—'

‘Goodbye, Eleanor,' she said. Turning, she closed the door behind her. She could feel her knees shaking, her heart thumping in her chest. More than anything she wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere her mother was not. Halfway across the Great Hall she broke into a run. She took the stairs in bounds, two at a time.