Philip rose and strolled over to join them. Of all of Emma’s grandsons, Philip McGill Amory was the most handsome. He was the spitting image of his grandfather and had the McGill colouring that his mother and his sister had inherited. His hair was the same glossy black, his eyes that uncanny blue which bordered on deep violet, and he was as tall, virile and dashing as Paul McGill had been. Although only twenty-four, Philip also happened to be the shrewdest of Emma’s grandsons, since he had been blessed with Paul’s extraordinary business acumen and financial genius, as well as a great deal of his grandmother’s not inconsiderable brilliance. He had been diligently trained by Emma since the age of seventeen and after taking over the vast McGill empire in Australia he had proved himself to be worthy of her trust many times over. He was known as a man to be reckoned with, and one who had a wisdom beyond his years.
Drawing to a stop next to Alexander, he put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder and said, ‘I’ll tell you how in a minute, Sandy.’ Lowering himself into one of the chairs facing his sister, he remarked, ‘That detective Gran hired – Graves – hasn’t been able to dig up a thing on Jonathan. However, I still believe that it’s very probable he has his own company – one that is being run by straw men, and – ’
‘Don’t think I’ve dismissed that possibility,’ Alexander fiercely interrupted, ‘because I haven’t.’
Philip nodded. ‘Okay, so let’s start with the assumption that he does indeed have a real estate company, and that he’s been funnelling deals into it. Big deals that by rights should be going to Harte Enterprises. That in itself is enough to hang him.’ Philip sat forward urgently, looked first at his sister and then at Alexander. ‘I propose that we put the noose around his neck. And I’ll tell you how. It’s very simple really. We have to get someone to present a deal to Jonathan as head of the real estate division of Harte Enterprises. Now, here’s the twist…we have to make the deal so attractive, so juicy, he won’t be able to resist putting it through his own company. Naturally it must be extremely appealing, and so very big, so tempting, his greed will far outweigh his judgement. If the stakes for himself are high enough he’ll act rashly, believe me he will.’
Sitting back, Philip crossed his long legs, glanced from Alexander to Paula and back to Alexander. ‘Well, what do you say?’
Alexander now sat down heavily in the other chair, nodded slowly. ‘I must admit, it’s a smart ploy, and I’ll go along with it, providing you can answer a couple of questions.’
‘Shoot.’
‘Philip, let’s be practical, where the hell are we going to find this tempting deal to dangle like a carrot in front of Jonathan? That’s for openers, and secondly, who are we going to get to offer it to him?’ Alexander smiled narrowly. ‘Let’s not underestimate our wily cousin…he’ll spot the holes immediately.’
‘Ah, but there won’t be any,’ Philip replied evenly. ‘I have someone who can offer the deal to Jonathan, a close friend who has his own real estate company here in London. So that answers your first question. As far as the deal itself is concerned, I believe my friend may have something up his sleeve that would be most appropriate, and tempting. All I need is your approval, and then I’ll talk to him.’
‘I suppose it’s worth having a go,’ Alexander said, fully aware of Philip’s inbred shrewdness and discretion. He turned to Paula. ‘What do you think?’
Paula said, ‘I’m all for it, if you are, Sandy.’ She eyed her brother. ‘What’s the name of your friend?’
‘Malcolm Perring. Surely you remember old Malcolm – we were at Wellington together.’
‘Vaguely. I think you introduced us once, when I came down to visit you at half-term.’
‘I did. Anyway, he and I remained relatively close friends after we left school, and he was out in Australia for a year and – ’
‘Jonathan’s bound to smell a rat,’ Paula said sharply. ‘You and Malcolm were at the same public school, then he was in Australia. Jonathan’ll put two and two together.’
‘I doubt it,’ Philip said, sounding assured and confident. ‘Malcolm’s been back here for a couple of years. He inherited his brother’s real estate company after that poor chap dropped dead of a heart attack at thirty-nine. Besides, Jonathan’s not going to ask a lot of personal questions, and Malcolm can be adroit and evasive, believe me, he can.’
‘I trust you. I know you wouldn’t embroil somebody in our affairs whom you couldn’t rely on to be absolutely discreet. And you will have to take him into your confidence,’ Paula remarked.
‘Obviously. But Malcolm is reliable…true blue, Paula.’ Philip chuckled. ‘I’m sure he has a deal that is ready to go – Perring and Perring is a huge company, and wouldn’t it be ironic if we were able to kill two birds with one stone? Catch Jonathan red-handed and do a bit of smart business for Harte Enterprises at the same time.’
Alexander began to laugh dryly, tickled at the idea. ‘Oh how Grandy would love this!’
Paula half smiled. ‘Perhaps we should go ahead then, Philip, since Alexander is all for it. And actually it must be his decision – as managing director of Harte Enterprises.’
Alexander exclaimed, ‘We don’t have anything to lose and, very frankly, I’m relieved we’re taking aggressive action. This sitting around waiting for Jonathan Ainsley to tip his hand is most frustrating. I feel we must force him out in the open if we can.’
‘I shall talk to Malcolm first thing tomorrow morning.’ Philip glanced at his watch. ‘If we’re going to grab a bite of lunch before we go to John Crawford’s office, I think we ought to leave. It’s eleven-thirty. We have to be at John’s at two-thirty, don’t we, Paula?’
‘Yes.’ She stood up, brushed a piece of lint off her black dress. ‘I’m not looking forward to this afternoon,’ she began and stopped. Her upper lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. She glanced away quickly. After a moment she managed to compose herself, and she smiled weakly at the two men.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘That happens when I least expect it – I think of Gran and just choke up. I can’t get used to her not being here. It’s just awful, such a gap in my life…all of our lives, I suppose.’
‘Yes,’ Philip agreed. ‘Alexander and I feel the same way as you do. In fact, we were discussing it last night at dinner. It’s hard to realize that she’s not going to suddenly swoop down on us with a bit of unorthodox but frighteningly clever advice, or make one of those blunt or pithy comments of hers.’
Philip walked around the desk and took hold of Paula’s shoulders gently, looked down into her white face. ‘The reading of the will is going to be dreadfully upsetting, Paula, because it emphasizes the reality of her death. But you must be there…we all must.’ He attempted a bit of levity as he finished, ‘Grandy will be mad at us if we’re not.’
Paula nodded, smiling faintly at his remark, knowing he wanted to cheer her up. Her sadness did ease slightly. ‘I’ll tell you one thing – it gets my goat when I think of the leeches who are going to be present later.’ She sighed. ‘Ah well, there we are, nothing we can do about it and my apologies to the two of you again. I think the less said about this afternoon the better. Now, come on, let’s go to lunch. Emily’s joining us – I’ve booked a table at the Ritz.’
‘The Ritz!’ Philip exclaimed in surprise. ‘A bit fancy, isn’t it, for a quick snack?’
She tucked her arm through her brother’s, glanced up at him and then across at Alexander, a hint of genuine gaiety surfacing. ‘Not really. It was one of Grandy’s favourite places. And I chose it because it has such happy associations for the four of us…all those lovely treats she used to give us there when we were children.’ Paula laughed, now addressed her brother, ‘Besides, you and I might not be here if Emma and Paul hadn’t indulged in a bit of romantic dallying at the Ritz over sixty years ago!’
‘Correct,’ Philip answered with a laugh. ‘And in that case I think lunch had better be on Paul McGill! Consider this my treat.’
‘Jolly de
cent of you,’ Alexander said as they left Paula’s office and went out to the staff lift. Alexander engaged Philip in a few seconds of conversation about his friend Malcolm Perring as they rode down. Satisfied with Philip’s answers, confident that his cousin had selected the right man to help them corner Jonathan, he asked, ‘By the way, how long are we going to have the pleasure of your company?’
‘I’ll be here until the end of October, when I’m apparently going to Texas with Paula. So she told me before you arrived. Sitex business. From there, it’s back to Sydney for a few weeks, and then I’m coming home again – for Christmas.’
‘Oh!’ Paula exclaimed. ‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘I only just decided at breakfast this morning. I haven’t had a chance to mention it. Mum’s so done in at the moment, I think I ought to be here. It’ll cheer her up. I’ve also agreed to go to Chamonix with them in January, and of course they’re both delighted about that.’
‘And so am I – this is great news.’ Alexander beamed. ‘Maggie and I have been invited to join Aunty Daisy and Uncle David.’ He shot Paula a quick glance. ‘Are you going to change your mind, now that Philip’s coming along?’
‘No. When I take a vacation I want to lie in the hot sun and bake myself to a crisp dark brown. The ski slopes have never appealed to me, as you both well know. Also, I have to be in New York in January. We’re doing a big promotion of French and Italian couture fashions at the store, and I’m opening the Total Woman Shop at our Fifth Avenue branch then.’ She gave them a wicked grin as they stepped out of the lift. ‘Somebody has to work in this family.’
Laughing, they bustled her outside into Knightsbridge and into a taxicab and headed for the Ritz Hotel.
Emily was already waiting for them at a table in the restaurant. Elegant in a black suit, which was most flattering and showed off her blonde beauty to perfection, she nevertheless wore a mournful expression. Her green eyes were wistful as her cousins and brother sat down with her. ‘I’ll be glad when today’s over,’ she muttered to Alexander. ‘The thought of hearing the will is so depressing.’
Alexander said, ‘Come on, Emily lovey, cheer up. Philip and I have just been through the same recital with Paula.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘Grandy wouldn’t approve. In fact, she’d be bloody furious if she could see us sitting around moping. Remember what she used to say?’
‘Which particular thing?’ Emily asked pensively.
‘The remark she often made when we’d had some sort of failure or disappointment…she usually told us to forget yesterday, think of tomorrow and keep forging ahead without looking back. Don’t you think that’s what we should do, especially today?’
‘Yes,’ Emily admitted, giving her brother a more cheerful smile.
‘Good girl,’ Alexander said.
Philip said, ‘I’m going to order a bottle of champagne and we’re going to drink to the memory of that remarkable woman who gave us life, taught us everything we know and made us what we are.’
He motioned the wine waiter.
After Philip had ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon, and whilst they waited for it to be brought to the table, Paula leaned closer to Emily. She whispered, ‘Philip has had a clever idea, thought of a way to possibly flush Jonathan out into the open. Once we’ve toasted Grandy, he’ll tell you about it.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Emily exclaimed. Her glistening green eyes narrowed with sudden shrewdness as she contemplated Jonathan’s downfall. ‘Now that would be a fitting tribute to Gran – if we can uncover his treachery to her and deal with him as she would have done.’
CHAPTER 45
John Crawford, Emma’s solicitor, and a senior partner in the firm of Crawford, Creighton, Phipps and Crawford, hurried into the large conference room.
He glanced about and nodded with satisfaction. The twenty-four chairs which were permanent fixtures around the long mahogany table had been rounded out to twenty-nine with the addition of five more. His secretary had rustled these up from other offices within the law firm, and the room could now accommodate himself and the twenty-eight people who were due to arrive any moment.
John strode down the floor, placed the last will and testament of Emma Harte on the table in front of his chair at its head. His eyes rested on it briefly but thoughtfully. It was a bulky document and he was facing a long session. No matter, he thought, and half shrugging he stepped over to the window, parted the curtains and looked down into Upper Grosvenor Street.
A few seconds later he saw a taxi pulling up outside the front door. David Amory alighted, followed by Daisy and Edwina. Even from this distance he could see that Daisy looked drawn, very sad, but she was still as beautiful as ever. He sighed under his breath. No wonder his marriage had failed. It was impossible to be married to one woman whilst worshipping another. He had been in love with Daisy for as long as he could remember. Most of his adult life really. No hope there. She had married young, and she had only ever had eyes for David. How special she was, so sweet and unaffected, and not a bit spoiled by that extraordinary wealth. They were good friends, and spent two days a month working together, since it was Daisy who ran the Emma Harte Foundation, a rich organization devoted to charity. Daisy frequently needed his legal advice on other matters, and sometimes he was lucky, was able to spend a few extra hours with her. He was grateful for these small crumbs of her time, and looked forward with eagerness to their business luncheons.
He swung away from the window at the sound of his secretary’s voice as she showed the Amorys and Edwina into the conference room. Smiling, he went to greet them, struck by Edwina’s ghastly appearance. Like Daisy, she wore black and in consequence her face looked utterly colourless and drained of life. But this aside, she had become an old woman in the last few weeks. Emma’s death had apparently affected her deeply.
He stood chatting to the three of them for a few minutes, and then they took their seats as the others began to arrive in rapid succession. By two-twenty everyone was present except for Jim and Winston. They came hurrying in five minutes later, apologizing, and explaining they had been held up in the traffic on the way from Fleet Street.
At precisely two-thirty John brought the room to order. He said: ‘It is a very sad occasion that brings us all together today, but as Emma said to me the last time I saw her at the beginning of August, “No long faces after I’m dead. I’ve had an extraordinary life, known the best and the worst, and so there hasn’t been one dull moment. Sing no sad songs for me.” However, before I proceed with the business at hand, I would like to say that I personally mourn a very good and dear friend, who was the most remarkable woman – no, correction, person – I’ve ever been privileged to know. She will be sorely missed.’
There were a few scattered mutterings of approval at the expression of these sentiments before John said in a more solemn voice: ‘This is the Last Will and Testament of Emma Harte Lowther Ainsley, who shall, hereafter, be known simply as Emma Harte throughout the reading of the will.’ He cleared his throat, and his tone became more conversational as he said, ‘Before her death Mrs Harte told me that members of her immediate family were aware of certain of the contents, since these were revealed to them by her in April of 1968. However, since the will covers the disposal of her entire estate, and because there are other beneficiaries I must read the will in its entirety. Also, that is the law. I must therefore ask you all to bear with me. It is a long document, I’m afraid, and one of some complexity.’
Paula, who sat between Jim and Philip, leaned back in her chair, folded her hands in her lap and directed her attention on the family solicitor. Her face was expressionless.
The first five or six pages dealt with Emma’s bequests to the staff employed in her various homes, and all were generous, showed Emma’s special consideration for each individual and their needs. Paula was genuinely gratified when she heard that Hilda was to receive a substantial pension when she retired, as well as the deed to one of the cottages Emma owned in the village of Pennistone Royal.
Hilda was not present, but Gaye Sloane was, and Emma’s former secretary looked across at Paula and gave her a surprised smile of delight, after John had read out the details of Emma’s gift to her. Gaye was to receive two hundred thousand pounds and a pair of diamond-and-gold earrings with a matching brooch.
The second portion of the will was concerned with Emma’s considerable art collection. John explained, ‘In the will drawn in 1968, Emma Harte left all of the art works to her grandson, Philip McGill Amory, with the exception of the paintings hanging at Pennistone Royal. This bequest has been modified.’ He swung his eyes to Philip. ‘Mrs Harte told me that she discussed this change with you and gave you her reasons for making it, and that you were fully understanding of her motives.’
‘Yes,’ Philip said, ‘Grandmother was seeking my approval and I told her this was not necessary, that she must dispose of her art as she so wished, since it was hers and hers alone. I am totally in accord with her.’
John nodded, glanced down at the document and read out Emma’s words: ‘ “In recognition of their many years of devotion, loyalty and friendship, I do give and bequeath to Henry Rossiter the Van Gogh landscape; to Ronald Kallinski the Picasso from the Blue Period; to Bryan O’Neill the Degas ballet dancer, each of which currently hangs in my Belgrave Square residence. To my beloved nephew, Randolph Harte, in appreciation of his love and friendship, I bequeath the four horse paintings by Stubbs and the two Barbara Hepworth sculptures, which are at present housed at Pennistone Royal. All of my other art works, excluding those hanging at Pennistone Royal, I give to my grandson, Philip. Also excluded from this bequest to Philip is the painting entitled The Top of the World by Sally Harte.”’
Philip leaned into Paula and whispered, ‘Uncle Randolph and the others are very touched. I’m glad she made those gifts to them, aren’t you?’
Paula nodded, gave him a small smile.
John Crawford said, ‘Regarding the matter of the Fabergé Imperial Easter Egg – ’ The solicitor paused to take a sip of water, and went on to explain that Emma wished the Fabergé object of art to be auctioned, the money returned to her grandchildren who had purchased it for her as a gift for her eightieth birthday. Any balance of money left over, should the Imperial Easter Egg bring more than they had paid for it, was to be donated to charity in accordance with Emma’s wishes.
Hold the Dream Page 69
