Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles 1)

'That's why we have a lawyer on the board,' said Sir Walter, 'so that he can advise us on such matters.'

'But I've calculated that it could cost us twenty thousand pounds a year if it becomes law. Don't you think we ought to seek a second opinion?'

'I suppose I could have a word with Sir James Amhurst when I'm next in London.'

'I'm travelling up to London on Tuesday for the Association of British Ship Owners' annual dinner,' said Hugo. 'As he's the industry's legal adviser, perhaps I should have a word with him.'

'Only if you're convinced it's necessary,' said Sir Walter. 'And don't forget that Amhurst charges by the hour, even at dinner.'

The Association of British Ship Owners' dinner was held at the Grosvenor House, and was attended by over a thousand members and their guests.

Hugo had earlier phoned the association's secretary and asked if he could be seated next to Sir James Amhurst. The secretary raised an eyebrow, but agreed to rearrange the guests on the top table. After all, old Joshua Barrington had been a founder member of the association.

After the Bishop of Newcastle had said grace, Hugo made no attempt to interrupt the eminent silk while he was deep in conversation with the man on his right. However, when the lawyer finally turned his attention to the stranger they'd put on his left, Hugo didn't waste any time in getting to the point.

'My father, Sir Walter Barrington,' he began, capturing his quarry's attention, 'is rather concerned about the import tariff bill that is going through the House of Commons, and the effects it might have on the industry. He wonders if he could consult you on the subject when he's next in London.'

'By all means, dear boy,' said Sir James. 'Just ask his secretary to give my clerk a call and I'll make sure I'm free when he's next in town.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Hugo. 'On a lighter note, I wondered if you'd ever read anything by Agatha Christie?'

'Can't say I have,' said Sir James. 'Is she any good?'

'I'm much enjoying her latest book, Where There's a Will,' said Hugo, 'but I'm not sure if the plot would stand up in a court of law.'

'What's the lady suggesting?' asked Amhurst as a sliver of over-cooked beef served on a cold plate was placed in front of him.

'According to Miss Christie, the eldest son of an hereditary knight automatically inherits his father's title, even if the child is illegitimate.'

'Ah, now that is indeed an interesting legal conundrum,' said Sir James. 'In fact, the Law Lords have quite recently reviewed such a case. Benson v. Carstairs, if I remember correctly. It's often referred to by the press as "the bastard's amendment".'

'And what conclusion did their lordships come to?' asked Hugo, trying not to sound too interested.

'If no loophole could be found in the original will, they came out in favour of the first born, even if the young man in question was illegitimate.' Another answer Hugo hadn't wanted to hear. 'However,' Sir James continued, 'their lordships decided to cover their backsides, and added a codicil that each case should be treated on its own merits, and then only after it had been reviewed by the Garter King of Arms. Typical of the Law Lords,' he added before picking up his knife and fork and attacking the beef. 'Too frightened to set a precedent, but quite happy to pass the buck.'

When Sir James returned his attention to the man on his right, Hugo thought about the implications of Harry Clifton discovering that he might have the right to inherit not only the Barrington shipping line, but also the family estate. Having to admit he had sired an illegitimate son would be bad enough, but the idea of Harry Clifton inheriting the family title after his death and becoming Sir Harry did not bear thinking about. He would be willing to do anything in his power to make sure that wouldn't be the outcome.

24

HUGO BARRINGTON was having breakfast when he read the letter from the headmaster of St Bede's, outlining the details of an appeal the school was launching to raise a thousand pounds to build a new cricket pavilion for the First XI. He opened his cheque book and had written the figures '100' when he was distracted by the sound of a car coming to a halt on the gravel outside.

Hugo walked across to the window to see who could possibly be visiting him so early on a Saturday morning. He was puzzled when he saw his son step out of the back of a taxi carrying a suitcase, as he'd been looking forward to watching him open the batting for the school that afternoon in the final match of the season against Avonhurst.

Jenkins appeared just in time to open the front door as Giles reached the top step. 'Good morning, Master Giles,' he said, as if he'd been expecting him.

Hugo walked quickly out of the breakfast room to find his son standing in the hall, head bowed, suitcase by his side. 'What are you doing at home?' he asked. 'Isn't there another week to go before the end of term?'

'I've been rusticated,' said Giles simply.

'Rusticated?' repeated his father. 'And what have you done to merit that, may I ask?'

Giles looked up at Jenkins, who stood silently by the front door. 'I'll take Master Giles's suitcase up to his bedroom,' the butler said, before picking up the bag and proceeding slowly up the stairs.

'Follow me,' said Hugo once the butler was out of sight.

Neither of them spoke again until Hugo had closed the study door behind him. 'What have you done to cause the school to take such a drastic measure?' demanded his father as he sank back into his chair.

'I was caught stealing from the tuck shop,' said Giles, who had been left standing in the middle of the room.

'Is there some simple explanation? A misunderstanding, perhaps?'

'No, there isn't, sir,' said Giles, fighting back tears.

'Do you have anything to say in your defence?'

'No, sir.' Giles hesitated. 'Except ...'

'Except what?'

'I always gave the sweets away, Papa. I never kept them for myself.'

'To Clifton, no doubt.'

'And to Deakins as well,' said Giles.

'Was it Clifton who put you up to it in the first place?'

'No, it was not,' responded Giles firmly. 'In fact, once he found out what I'd been up to, Harry always took the sweets I gave him and Deakins back to the tuck shop. He even took the blame when Mr Frobisher accused him of stealing them.'

A long silence followed before his father said, 'So you've been rusticated, not actually expelled?'

Giles nodded.

'Do you think they will allow you to go back next term?'

'I doubt it,' said Giles.

'What makes you so sure of that?'

'Because I've never seen the headmaster so angry.'

'Not half as angry as your mother will be when she finds out.'

'Please don't tell her, Papa,' pleaded Giles, bursting into tears.

'And how do you expect me to explain to her why you're home a week early and might not even be returning to St Bede's next term?'

Giles made no attempt to respond, but continued to sob quietly.

'And Heaven knows what your grandparents will say,' his father added, 'when I have to tell them why you won't be going to Eton after all.'