At length, Edith Lawton lowered her cup to its saucer. ‘Must have well and truly put the cat amongst the pigeons when the family discovered he’d married.’
Ivy Swann nodded and helped herself to a slice of seed cake from the cake stand. ‘I’d like to be a fly on the wall while the will’s being read.’
‘Oh, there’ll be ructions to be sure,’ said Elspeth Grainger. ‘Did you see how the children could barely look at each other? I thought Allegra might actually slap Arthur at one point.’
‘And what about him moving out of Island House and into the Half Moon Hotel with his wife? What does that say about the family?’
Ivy nodded her head again so vigorously her hat slipped to one side. She straightened it and leaned in closer to the other two women. ‘I heard from my sister Cynthia that the widowed daughter, Hope, the one who married a German, arrived home with a baby. A baby no one knew anything about.’
‘I heard that it’s her German niece.’
‘Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.’
‘When did her husband die?’
‘About a year ago. So it could be hers.’
‘Then why lie about it?’
‘Search me. But I know this much, I could believe anything of that family.’
The other two women tutted, and together the three of them shuddered in unison.
Chapter Eleven
‘I’m afraid there is no ambiguity; those are the terms of the will. It’s unusual, I grant you, how he’s left things, but then Jack was not the most orthodox of men.’
With a loud snort of derision, Arthur all but leapt to his feet, roughly dislodging his wife’s hand, which had been resting on his forearm throughout the reading. ‘Unusual doesn’t come close!’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘The very idea is preposterous, and I for one do not have the time for such nonsense.’
His gaze still on the document in front of him, Roddy spoke in a quiet and steady voice. ‘Then you will forfeit the generous inheritance your father wished for you. It’s as simple as that.’
‘The only simple aspect to this absurd business is that it’s nothing short of blackmail from the grave. I have my principles; I will not be told what to do by Jack Devereux of all people, alive or dead! It’s the most divisive and contentious will I’ve ever heard.’
Roddy removed his spectacles and looked steadily at Arthur with a gaze as unyielding as any Romily had seen. ‘As a lawyer, I have come across far more complicated wills than this, but as you wish, Arthur. However, I’m not sure how the others will feel about your decision. As your father’s will states only too clearly, the four of you must spend a minimum of seven days together here at Island House, as of now, or not one of you will inherit. Which means you can forget your share of the proceeds from the business concerns your father sold eighteen months ago, the stocks and shares too. Do you really want to let your pride stop you from benefiting from all that?’
A silence fell on the room as Kit, Allegra and Hope turned to look at Arthur. From her chair positioned at the far end of the dining table, a seat that distanced her from everybody else, Romily doubted any of them wanted to spend a second longer than necessary in Arthur’s company, but she guessed they were prepared to put aside their dislike of him in order to go along with Jack’s wishes. She wanted to believe that they weren’t guided purely by the sizeable bequests Jack had put in place for them, but that they could see beyond that. Jack had truly wanted them to be a family again, to put the past to rest in a way they couldn’t while he was still alive. In the time she had spent with him, she had come to know that this stick-and-carrot approach was typical.
The silence was broken abruptly by the sound of crying, loud crying that had been brewing for some minutes. Until now it had been an occasional grizzle of protest, probably from boredom and having to sit quietly. Romily could sympathise.
‘For pity’s sake, Hope, can’t you keep that brat quiet? And God knows why you think it’s appropriate to bring it in here for the reading of our father’s will!’
‘She’s not an “it”, Arthur,’ said Hope, lifting the child and putting her awkwardly against her shoulder in an effort to distract her. ‘Her name is Annelise, and if the poor girl is crying, it’s because she’s picking up on your blatant hostility.’
‘If I’m hostile, it’s down to not being able to think straight. Why don’t you take her out of the room? For the life of me I can’t begin to think what possessed you to agree to have her in the first place.’
‘She did it because she’s a decent human being,’ Kit intervened. ‘Now why don’t you sit down so we can decide what we’re going to do?’
‘Yes,’ said Allegra, roused from her air of bored detachment. ‘As always, you’re making us all suffer your ill-temper.’
‘That’s rich coming from you!’
Every inch the operatic prima donna, Allegra rolled her large expressive eyes theatrically and gave a weary shrug of her shoulders – the distinctive gesture of an Italian. ‘I had hoped you might have changed since I last saw you, Arthur, but you’re still as obnoxious as I remember, if not worse.’ She simmered with a deliciously haughty air that reminded Romily of a cat watching its prey, trying to decide whether it was worth the effort to pounce.
‘Please don’t talk to my husband that way,’ said Irene as Arthur sat down heavily next to her, but not before glaring across the table. ‘As far as I can see, he’s the only one prepared to be honest here. The rest of you are cowards and too browbeaten by your father to speak your mind.’ She turned her gaze on Kit as though deliberately singling him out. Knowing their history from Jack, Romily winced.
Next to Kit, Allegra drummed her fingernails on the table. ‘Va bene, cara,’ she said, her voice low and honeyed. ‘If it’s honesty you want, then maybe this suits you better – I’d sooner lock myself in a cold dark cellar with a barrel of scorpions for company than spend a week in your husband’s company.’
In spite of everything, Romily had to bite back a smile. It was the nearest she had got to smiling since Jack’s death. Until today she had shut herself away, too grief-stricken to play the part of hostess tending to the needs of her guests. Let them get on with fighting amongst themselves, she had thought miserably. It was the first time in her life she had been unable to cope; the first time ever that she had wanted to run away from something. She had been desperate to return to London, to mourn for Jack in private, away from his family. But Roddy had urged her to stay and help him arrange the funeral in the way Jack would have wanted it to be conducted – as simple as possible and not a mawkish affair.
