“I shall,” he continued, “come straight to the point. One of my clients was the late Sir Raymond Hardcastle.” Becky wondered why he had never mentioned this fact before and was about to protest when Mr. Baverstock quickly added, “But I hasten to say that Mrs. Gerald Trentham is not and never has been a client of this firm.”
Becky made no effort to disguise her relief.
“I must also let you know that I had the privilege of serving Sir Raymond for over thirty years and indeed considered myself not only to be his legal adviser but towards the end of his life a close friend. I tell you this as background information, Lady Trumper, for you may feel such facts are relevant when you’ve heard all that I have to say.”
Becky nodded, still waiting for Mr. Baverstock to get to the point.
“Some years before he died,” continued the solicitor, “Sir Raymond drew up a will. In it he divided the income from his estate between his two daughters—an income, I might add, that has grown considerably since his death, thanks to some prudent investment on his behalf. The elder of his daughters was Miss Amy Hardcastle, and the younger, as I feel sure you know, Mrs. Gerald Trentham. The income from the estate has been sufficient to give both these ladies a standard of living equal to, if not considerably higher than, the one to which they had grown accustomed before his death. However—”
Will dear Mr. Baverstock ever get to the point? Becky was beginning to wonder.
“—Sir Raymond decided, in his wisdom, that the share capital should remain intact, after he allowed the firm that his father had founded and he had built up so successfully to merge with one of his greatest rivals. You see, Lady Trumper, Sir Raymond felt there was no member of the family who could obviously fill his shoes as the next chairman of Hardcastle’s. Neither of his two daughters, or his grandsons for that matter—of whom I shall have more to say in a moment—did he consider competent to run a public company.”
The solicitor removed his glasses, cleaned them with a handkerchief which he took out of his top pocket and peered through the lenses critically before returning to the task at hand.
“Sir Raymond, you see, had no illusions about his immediate kith and kin. His elder daughter, Amy, was a gentle, shy lady who nursed her father valiantly through his final years. When Sir Raymond died she moved out of the family house into a small seaside hotel where she resided until her death last year.
“His younger daughter, Ethel Trentham—” he continued. “Let me put this as delicately as I can—Sir Raymond considered she had perhaps lost touch with reality and certainly no longer acknowledged any attachment to her past. Anyway, I know it particularly saddened the old man not to have produced a son of his own, so when Guy was born his hopes for the future became focused on the young grandson. From that day he lavished everything on him. Later he was to blame himself for the boy’s eventual downfall. He did not make the same mistake when Nigel was born, a child for whom he had neither affection nor respect.
“However, this firm was instructed to keep Sir Raymond briefed at all times with any information that came into our hands concerning members of his immediate family. Thus when Captain Trentham resigned his commission in 1922, somewhat abruptly, we were asked to try to find out the real cause behind his leaving the colors. Sir Raymond certainly did not accept his daughter’s story about an appointment as a partner with an Australian cattle broker, and indeed at one stage was sufficiently concerned that he even contemplated sending me to that continent to find out the real story. Then Guy died.”
Becky sat in her chair wanting to wind Mr. Baverstock up like a gramophone and set him going well above 78 rpm, but she had already come to the conclusion that nothing she said was going to accelerate him along the track he had set himself.
“The result of our investigations,” continued Baverstock, “led us to believe—and at this point, Lady Trumper, I must apologize for any indelicacy, for I do not intend to offend—that Guy Trentham and not Charles Trumper was the father of your child.”
Becky bowed her head and Mr. Baverstock apologized once again before he continued.
“Sir Raymond, however, needed to be convinced that Daniel was his great-grandson, and to that end he made two separate visits to St. Paul’s after the boy had won a scholarship to that school.”
Becky stared at the old lawyer.
“On the first occasion he watched the boy perform in a school concert—Brahms, if I remember correctly—and on a second saw Daniel receive the Newton Prize for Mathematics from the High Master on Founders’ Day. I believe you were also present on that occasion. On both visits Sir Raymond went out of his way to be sure that the boy was unaware of his presence. After the second visit, Sir Raymond was totally convinced that Daniel was his great-grandchild. I’m afraid all the men in that family are stuck with that Hardcastle jaw, not to mention a tendency to sway from foot to foot when agitated. Sir Raymond accordingly altered his will the following day.”
The solicitor picked up a document bound in a pink ribbon which lay on his desk. He untied the ribbon slowly. “I was instructed, madam, to read the relevant clauses of his will to you at a time I considered appropriate but not until shortly before the boy celebrates his thirtieth birthday. Daniel will be thirty next month, if I am not mistaken.”
Becky nodded.
Baverstock acknowledged the nod and slowly unfolded the stiff sheets of parchment.
“I have already explained to you the arrangements concerning the disposal of Sir Raymond’s estate. However, since Miss Amy’s death Mrs. Trentham has had the full benefit of any interest earned from the Trust, now amounting to some forty thousand pounds a year. At no time to my knowledge did Sir Raymond make any provision for his elder grandson, Mr. Guy Trentham, but since he is now deceased that has become irrelevant. Subsequently he made a small settlement on his other grandson, Mr. Nigel Trentham.” He paused. “And now I must quote Sir Raymond’s exact words,” he said, looking down at the will. He cleared his throat before continuing.
“‘After all other commitments have been honored and bills paid, I leave the residue of my messuage and estate to Mr. Daniel Trumper of Trinity College, Cambridge, the full benefit of which will come into his possession on the death of his grandmother, Mrs. Gerald Trentham.’”
Now that the lawyer had at last come to the point Becky was stunned into silence. Mr. Baverstock paused for a moment in case Becky wished to say something, but as she suspected that there was still more to be revealed she remained silent. The lawyer’s eyes returned to t
he papers in front of him.
“I feel I should add at this point that I am aware—as indeed Sir Raymond was—of the treatment you have suffered at the hands both of his grandson and his daughter, so I must also let you know that although this bequest to your son will be considerable, it does not include the farm at Ashurst in Berkshire or the house in Chester Square. Both properties, since the death of her husband, are now owned by Mrs. Gerald Trentham. Nor does it include—and I suspect this is of more importance to you—the vacant land in the center of Chelsea Terrace, which forms no part of Sir Raymond’s estate. However, everything else he controlled will eventually be inherited by Daniel, although, as I explained, not until Mrs. Trentham has herself passed away.”
“Is she aware of all this?”
“Indeed, Mrs. Trentham was made fully conversant with the provisions in her father’s will sometime before his death. She even took advice as to whether the new clauses inserted after Sir Raymond’s visits to St. Paul’s could be contested.”
“Did that result in any legal action?”
“No. On the contrary, she quite suddenly, and I must confess inexplicably, instructed her lawyers to withdraw any objections. But whatever the outcome, Sir Raymond stipulated most clearly that the capital could never be used or controlled by either of his daughters. That was to be the privilege of his next of kin.”
Mr. Baverstock paused and placed both palms down on the blotting paper in front of him.