Inherit the Skies

by Janet Tanner

  Dear God, they were dead, both of them. They must be. They had just died before her very eyes, two of the men she loved most in the world. And she was responsible for their deaths.

  The family wanted her to return to Chewton Leigh House with them after the accident but she refused, desperate for the sanctuary of her own home. But there was none. She threw open all the windows but still the rooms were hot and airless behind the drawn curtains and the loud ticking of the clock sounded to her like the knell of doom.

  During the evening Adam came. She looked at him with a peculiar blankness in her eyes and he went to her, taking her in his arms. For a moment she clung to him but there was no comfort in his touch, no relief in the feel of his chest beneath her cheek, nothing but overwhelming guilt. She had sent both Eric and Gilbert to their deaths. The knowledge was too much to bear; his closeness merely an abomination.

  ‘Don’t, Adam, please.’

  Not understanding he reached for her again and again she pushed him away.

  ‘Don’t, I said! It wouldn’t be right. Not with Eric lying dead.’

  He went to the big oak chiffonier, taking out a bottle of brandy, pouring a good measure and passing it to her. ‘Drink this.’

  She made a quick impatient movement as if to thrust it away, then took it and emptied the glass in one gulp.

  ‘It should have been me. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Thank God it wasn’t.’

  ‘Really? You know what they say – ‘‘they die young whom the Gods love’’. They must hate me very much.’

  ‘Sarah, stop this foolishness. It was an accident. Accidents happen.’

  ‘Was it an accident? That’s what I keep wondering.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  She spun round to face him. ‘He knew, you know. Eric knew – about us. He told me so – just before he left. And he kept saying he wouldn’t be coming back.’

  ‘That he was leaving you, you mean?’

  ‘No – no! That something was going to happen to him. It would solve everything, he said. And that he wished he had died along with the crew of that Zepp he shot down. I think he wanted it to happen, Adam. And now both he and Gilbert are dead and it’s all my fault.’

  ‘Sarah – stop this at once! You will make yourself ill.’

  ‘Well? It’s no more than I deserve. I don’t know how I can face them again – any of them.’

  He paced to the window and back again, wondering whether this was the moment to say what was on his mind. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets, leaning against the chiffonier and looking at her steadily.

  ‘There is really no need for you to face them, Sarah – or not for very long, anyway; I had arranged with Gilbert to start up the South African Division and I leave at the end of the month. You can come with me.’ Her forehead wrinkled as if she had not understood him and he went on: ‘We can start a new life there. Of course, what has happened is bound to set plans for the new division back somewhat. But we must keep the expansion going. Gilbert would want that. And it affords us an opportunity for a fresh start.’

  ‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘ No – I can’t!’

  ‘Can’t come to South Africa with me? Why not? There is nothing to stop you now.’

  Her eyes blazed. ‘That is a terrible thing to say.’

  He raised his hands helplessly. ‘ Then I apologise. But it’s the truth. I love you, Sarah. I have waited for you so long and now …’

  ‘Do you know what Eric said to me?’ Her eyes were bright with tears. ‘That if anything happened to him he gave us his blessing. But he asked one thing of me – that I should wait a decent interval so as to leave him if I ran off to South Africa with you, Adam? He’d be laughing stock – poor old Eric, poor old cuckolded Eric. I can’t do that to him and I’m shocked that you should have asked me to. He deserves a better memorial than that.’

  Adam nodded. His eyes were bleak. Eric was as much an obstacle to them being together now as he had ever been. Perhaps time would change that. But was he prepared to go on waiting and waiting? Sometimes he wondered if Sarah merely produced one excuse after the other because in reality she did not want to be with him. But she was right, of course. It would be disrespectful to Eric’s memory for them to be together too soon.

  ‘I’ll leave you then, Sarah.’ Adam said. He was aware of the gulf between them and realized this was not the moment to try and bridge it.

  She nodded. Most of all just now she wanted to be alone. Perhaps tomorrow when the shock had subsided a little she would feel differently.

  But she did not. The next day it was as bad, if not worse, and the next. She could not eat or sleep, the horror was still too vivid. The grief came at her in waves like the swell of the ocean and always in the undercurrent was the guilt. Could she ever go with Adam now, with this shadow hanging over them? Eric, it seemed, was reaching out for her from beyond the grave, holding her more tightly in death than ever he had done in life.

  Chapter Forty-One

  In spite of the number of people gathered there a hush hung over the library at Chewton Leigh House for the sense of shock at what had happened had crushed them all. For the record attempt to have ended in tragedy before it had properly begun was bad enough. That they had all been there to witness it made it infinitely worse.

  Why had it happened? No-one could say with any certainty for the Condor had been totally destroyed in the explosion and fire which had followed. Only a few scattered bits of debris were left and they offered no clue. All that anyone could say was that Eric must have encountered some problem and turned back, but whatever the fault had been it had been so serious that he had been unable to regain the runway.

  Max, grey-faced with strain, had sifted every bit of evidence to no avail; it seemed that Eric had taken the secret of the cause of his death with him to his grave.

  ‘There must have been some sort of failure for him to have turned back,’ Max had said.

  ‘Not necessarily. Perhaps Eric was taken ill,’ Adam had suggested, trying to relieve his friend of some of the weight of blame he seemed determined to shoulder, but both of them knew in their heart of hearts it was unlikely. Eric had been perfectly well when he had taken off, he was young and fit. There remained the possibility that Gilbert was the one who had been taken ill and in bringing him back Eric had been distracted and misjudged his height. But that seemed even less likely. Eric was a good and experienced pilot and during the war he had flown safely with far more than a sick passenger on his mind.

  So the mystery remained and with it the sense of numbing shock. Eric and Gilbert had died in the wreckage of the Condor before their very eyes. Now as they gathered for the reading of Gilbert’s will each of them in their own way showed the mark it had left on them.

  Sarah had been the first to arrive, pale and composed, her eyes haunted behind her small black veil. Max, a tick moving ceaselessly in his eye, had joined her. He had not wanted to come, pleading that the reading of the will was no concern of his, but Percy Dunn, the Morse family lawyer, had insisted – it had been Gilbert’s wish that he should be there. He took his place beside Sarah, his good hand plucking nervously at the shirt cuff which hung loosely over his withered one. After a few moments Alicia, James and Adam had entered the library, Alicia walking tall and proud, the whiteness of her face emphasised by the stark black mourning she wore, James following her, looking helpless and bewildered, Adam bringing up the rear. His face was set, his eyes sought Sarah’s and when she looked quickly away the lines tightened still more, concealing whatever emotion he was feeling. Last of all came Blanche, leaning heavily on an ivory topped cane, and Leo. The strain of the last days had aged Blanche, yet there was still a proud imperiousness in her carriage as she made her entrance, a refusal to give way to the frailty which widowhood had thrust upon her. Leo guided her to her chair and sat down beside her. Glancing at him Sarah was surprised by the look of him. He was pale, yes, as they all were. But there was something
about him which might almost have been suppressed excitement. His eyes darted about the room. When they met Sarah’s he looked quickly away but not before she had seen and recognised what looked suspiciously like a gleam of triumph.

  Did he know something about the will that they did not? she wondered. He was after all Gilbert’s only surviving male relative, apart from James, and of course Adam. But James had not the slightest interest in the business and never had. He now buried himself in his painting and his poetry, whilst Adam was far more a man of action than a businessman. Gilbert had known that, known too how deep Leo’s ambition ran. Was it possible that he had decided to put the perpetuation of the business before family ties and make Leo his heir? If he has we must accept it, Sarah thought, for her faith in Gilbert’s good judgement was unshakeable. But all the same she could not help hoping that the enterprise she held so dear was not about to fall into Leo’s hands.

  When they were all seated Percy Dunn looked up from the papers he had been shuffling, eyeing each of them in turn. His expression was suitably grave, his double chin wobbled slightly above the stiff white collar, he licked his fleshy lips and adjusted his pince-nez on his small hooked nose. This was the sort of occasion he loved best. To him it was a little like a theatrical production with the stage set just so and himself the principal player.

  He coughed, waiting until all eyes were on him.

  ‘Now – are we all here?’ It was a line he delivered regularly; familiarity gave his reedy voice the ring of authority. ‘Yes? Good. In that case I will begin.’

  The will, a thick wad of cream vellum, lay on top of the pile of papers. With another theatrical gesture he untied the pink document ribbon which secured it and began to read: ‘ This is the last will and testament of me, Gilbert William James Morse, being of sound mind …’

  ‘Just a moment!’ Blanche’s voice, thin but imperious, interrupted him. He raised his eyes, pained but respectful. ‘Do you have to tire us with all the legal jargon, Mr Dunn?’ Blanche enquired.

  Percy Dunn let the pince-nez fall on their chain. They bounced against his starched shirt front. ‘It is usual, Mrs Morse. Out of respect for the deceased …’

  ‘I really do not care what is or is not usual and I think on such a painful occasion consideration for the living might be allowed to take precedence over respect for the dead. Surely you can tell us in plain language the terms of my husband’s will?’

  Percy Dunn looked shocked but Blanche’s gaze was piercing and the grip of her thin hand on the ivory top of her cane bore witness to her steely determination. She stared him out, unflinching, and at last he nodded.

  ‘Very well. If that is what you want.’

  ‘We do. At least I do and I am sure I speak for the rest of the family.’

  ‘I agree,’ Alicia said. ‘I too would much prefer you to paraphrase, Mr Dunn.’

  He inclined his head, deprived of the opportunity to recite in rolling tones the mysterious liturgy of age old phrases he loved so well.

  ‘If you insist. The provisions as Mr Morse willed them are these.’ He replaced the pince-nez, vellum crackled as he turned the pages. ‘To deal first with the bequests. Each of the servants in the employ of the family at the time of Mr Morse’s death are to receive the sum of one hundred pounds. Miss Hazel Rowe, his secretary, the sum of fifty pounds. To Maximillian Hurst, Mr Morse leaves the sum of one thousand pounds, the like amount to his son-in-law Mr Adam Bailey. To his son, James Morse, will go all Mr Morse’s holdings in a number of varied companies in which he has shares, with the exception, of course of Morse Motors and Morse Bailey International. These, I may say, amount to a goodly sum. To his widow, Mrs Blanche Morse, will go the sum of ten thousand pounds. Mrs Morse will also become the owner of Chewton Leigh House.’

  A small strangled sound escaped Alicia but she quickly turned it into a cough and Sarah felt a twinge of pity for her. Chewton Leigh House was Alicia’s home – she would not care to remain there on the sufferance of the woman with whom she shared little love. But she was too proud to protest in public, however much she might rail in private.

  ‘Now we come to the division of the estate and the shares in the company,’ the lawyer continued. ‘To take the estate first. When all the bequests and gifts have been subtracted Mr Morse’s estate will be divided into three equal parts, that is to say, it will be shared equally between three people. Those three people are his son and daughter, Mr James Morse and Mrs Alicia Bailey and Mrs Sarah Gardiner.’

  A ripple ran around the room and Sarah felt the colour rush into her cheeks. She had expected Gilbert would leave her something in his will – though she had wanted nothing. She would prefer to have him alive than to come into any amount of riches. But a third share of his estate – equal with Alicia and James!

  Blanche’s voice rose above the clamour. ‘Are you quite certain that you have that correct, Mr Dunn? We asked you to paraphrase but even so I find it difficult to believe …’

  ‘Why?’ James interposed. ‘Sarah was raised with us. Why shouldn’t Father leave her the same as us? After all, Lawrence and Hugh are gone …’

  ‘It’s all very well for you, James,’ Alicia said acidly. ‘You seem to have done very well already.’

  ‘There is no mistake, I assure you,’ Percy Dunn said reprovingly. ‘As for the matter of Mr James being favoured I believe Mr Morse’s reason for that will become clear if you will only allow me to continue?’

  ‘Please do!’ Blanche said but her tone was more imperious and regal than ever and Sarah’s discomfort increased. They had always resented her – now it seemed they had cause.

  ‘We come now to the division of the shares in the two companies, Morse Motors and Morse Bailey International,’ Percy Dunn said when he was certain he had their attention once more. ‘As you are all aware, Mr Morse held one hundred per cent of shares in each. He arrived at a division of those shares which he believed to be in the best interests of the companies. Before telling you the names of the beneficiaries I will point out that James is not one of them. That is why he was catered for by way of other provision. Mr Morse knew he had no interest in the companies and preferred to leave them in the care of those who have. However, your father wished me to make it clear to you, James, that it is in no way a reflection of his regard for you. Rather he had your best interests at heart as well of those of the companies.’

  ‘Of course – and he has been more than generous,’ James muttered. There had been a time when he had been quite certain that he would be cut out of his father’s will, but Gilbert had provided for him amply and with some measure of understanding. The knowledge made him feel closer to his father than he had ever felt in life.

  ‘So. The business holdings are to be divided as follows – and the same division is applicable to both companies,’ the lawyer continued, regarding them over his pince-nez. ‘Ten per cent each go to Mr Adam Bailey and Mr Maximillian Hurst. Twenty per cent to the widow, Mrs Blanche Morse. And the remaining sixty per cent to be divided equally between Mrs Alicia Bailey and Mrs Sarah Gardiner.’

  For a moment no-one spoke. It was as if shock had rendered them all speechless. Them Leo asked sharply: ‘What about me?’

  Percy Dunn fixed him with an apologetic gaze. ‘I am sorry, Mr de Vere, I am afraid you are not mentioned in the will.’

  ‘Not mentioned? After all I have done?’

  ‘I am sorry.’

  Leo leapt to his feet. His face was suffused with ugly colour and a muscle worked beneath his eyelid. ‘ I don’t believe it! I am his stepson and I am not mentioned while she…’ he jabbed an accusing finger in Sarah’s direction, ‘she gets equal shares with Alicia! Good God, man, it’s preposterous!’

  ‘Leo – sit down!’ Blanche’s eyes were gleaming dangerously behind the hooded folds of paper-dry skin. ‘Don’t make a fool of yourself.’

  ‘I don’t need to do that, do I?’ Leo ranted. ‘ He has done it for me – him and that … harlot! How did you get around him, Sarah? What went
on between you, eh?’

  ‘Hold your tongue, Leo!’ Blanche ordered.

  ‘I will not! It’s disgraceful!’ Words failed him and he spluttered with impotent rage.

  Adam rose purposefully. ‘Either sit down and shut up, Leo, or I will throw you out.’

  ‘Who the devil are you to order me around, I’d like to know?’ Leo demanded. ‘You are as bad as she is – worming your way in with the old man. Bloody upstarts …!’ He rushed at Adam, fists flailing. Adam countered the blow easily, grabbing Leo by the arm and pushing him bodily back into his chair. For a moment he subsided, glowering, then his fury got the better of him and he leapt to his feet again.

  ‘Damn you! Damn the lot of you! Who the devil do you Morses think you are?’

  ‘I warn you, Leo …’ Adam’s voice was low but terse.

  ‘All right, you don’t need to carry out your threat and throw me out. I am going. But you’ll be sorry, all of you.’ He blundered to the door, knocking over a chair as he went, then turned to look at them. His eyes were still wild with rage but when he spoke his voice was low and chilling. ‘One of these days I’ll have your bloody companies, lock, stock and barrel. And when I do don’t expect any mercy from me. I’ll treat you with the same contempt as you have treated me, I promise you!’

  The door slammed after him and he was gone.

  ‘Well!’ Alicia said into the shocked silence. ‘What a disgraceful performance! I think you might have taught him a little self-control, Blanche. How I pity poor little Emily!’ Her face was pale but she was self-possessed as ever and Sarah could only guess at what emotions might be seething behind that ice cool exterior.

  Blanche rose, leaning heavily on her ivory topped cane.

  ‘I apologize, Mr Dunn, on behalf of my son. His behaviour was unpardonable. And now, if you will excuse me, I would like to go to my room.’

  James leaped up to assist her but she brushed him aside. ‘Thank you, James, but I am quite capable of managing by myself.’