Henry had given instructions for his interment in the family vault and left money for mourning jewellery to be distributed to his uncles and cousins.

The solicitor did some more throat-clearing. ‘There is a codicil to the will dated the Saturday of Lord Tillingham’s death. It contains two clauses. He has left an estate called Waters End to Adrien Prescott, In appreciation of his tireless and loyal labours on my behalf. In addition, the estate and accumulated income held in trust since the decease of the late Colonel Archibald Percival de Vere Prescott are to be released and surrendered to his natural born son Inish Archibald Prescott Kumar on production of satisfactory proofs that he, the said Inish Archibald Prescott Kumar, was fathered by the said Colonel Archibald Percival de Vere Prescott. In the absence of such proofs being forthcoming within seven years of the decease of the said Colonel Archibald Percival de Vere Prescott the said estates and income are to be incorporated into the entailed estate.’ He turned his head towards where the latecomer was sitting. ‘This, I assume, is the business to which you refer, sir.’

‘It is.’

‘And you have such proofs?’

‘I have.’

‘In that case I believe I need not trouble the majority of the gathering further. My lord.’ He bowed towards the frail figure in its huddle of rugs,’ I suggest that you and I and Mr Kumar retire to the study.’

‘Alexander.’ The voice was a thready wheeze. ‘Alexander and that lad of yours, Adrien. You come too.’

People stood and moved towards the doors. I saw Alexander stoop over his older brother, talking urgently, then gesture to Luc who came forward with Adrien. Between them they got the invalid to his feet and went slowly out, Inish Kumar behind them.

Bugger, I thought. There was no way I was going to be able to eavesdrop on that. ‘I suppose we had best go down and see what people are talking about,’ I said.

Unless anyone was in such dire need of three thousand pounds and a black enamel ring containing a dead man’s hair that they were prepared to kill for it, that left only Adrien with a very significant inheritance – assuming Waters End wasn’t some run-down smallholding.

It turned out that the will itself was more or less what everyone had expected, except that the size of the bequests was a pleasant surprise. Nobody, it seemed, had expected to gain any land by it and Adrien’s brothers and the three sons of Horace Prescott were managing to be fairly sporting about his legacy. He must have made a very favourable impression on his late cousin, I realised because he had not been long in his employ when the codicil was written.

I located Jerald, as the only one I was even vaguely acquainted with, and asked him bluntly what he thought of the will. ‘I’m glad of the money,’ he said, equally bluntly, although I thought he looked ill at ease, almost sickly.

‘Are you unwell? Come and sit down.’

‘No. No, I am…’ He moved slightly, so that my hand, which I had laid on his forearm, slid away. ‘Just, never expected him to leave me anything, you know. And that was a bit of a facer. Makes it seem more real, you know.’

I guessed that, after thoughtlessly regarding his cousin as a source of money, he had been shocked out of his selfishness by the bequest.

‘What about the Colonel’s son?’ I asked, changing the subject somewhat.

‘That’s a turn-up for the books!’ As I hoped, he perked up at the change of subject, although he still looked rather pale. Hung-over, perhaps. ‘First I knew about it, but it won’t affect most of us and, after all, Uncle Alexander ought to be pretty relieved the fellow’s from the wrong side of the blanket, otherwise he’d be the heir, wouldn’t he?’

‘Will anyone be upset because Mr Kumar has an Indian mother?’ I asked.

Jerald shrugged. ‘Shouldn’t think so. The fellow sounds like a gentleman and the East India Company’s full

of fellows who’ve married out there, or their sons. I could name half a dozen titled families who’ve got part-Indian relatives.’

That was a relief and confirmed what Luc had said. I hadn’t been sure I was going to be able to bite my tongue if any of the Prescotts went off on a racist rant.

Out the corner of my eyes I noticed movement and looked across to where Miss Jordan was beginning to stand up. Her mother had her hand on her arm as though to detain her, but she looked determined. And very pale. It seemed the reading of the will had brought the family tragedy close to everyone in a way that, oddly, the funeral had not.

Arabella began to walk across the room towards me, then she swayed and crumpled to the ground. There was a rush of young men to help her and I wondered cynically if her newly-inherited three thousand pounds was a tempting addition to her dowry for the unmarried Prescott sons.

I wriggled my way past them. ‘Stand back and give her some air, for goodness sake.’

They backed off and I knelt beside her. She was already coming round and I put an arm behind her and sat her up. ‘Lean forward, don’t try and stand yet.’ I looked up at the circle of young men. ‘Shoo.’

They shooed, with Jerald urging them back. ‘What was it?’ I asked her when her colour was slightly better. ‘You were coming over to speak to me, I think.’

‘No, not – . I mean… I… I don’t recall. It is so crowded and hot and I just want to go home.’

Her mother had secured a glass of water and joined us. ‘Take a sip, dear. Do you need the smelling salts?’

‘Shall I send for a maid to help Miss Jordan to her room?’ I asked her and she nodded distractedly, so I found a footman and retired to a quiet corner behind a vast potted fern. The nineteenth century’s enthusiasm for large indoor plants was quite helpful, as I had found on several occasions.

And I was not the only one. There was a rustling on the other side of my green barricade. I peered through the fronds and saw it was Jerald’s brothers, Percy and George, although I was not too sure which was which.

Tags: Louise Allen Science Fiction
Source: readsnovelonline.net