‘Isn’t this a bit morbid, Mother?’ Elizabeth exclaimed unsteadily, her face strained.
‘Please don’t interrupt me! And no, I don’t think it is morbid.’ Emma tapped the will and went on, ‘This is rather an unwieldy document to read word by word, since it is over a hundred pages long. It is also full of legal terminology. Therefore, I think it will be easier to cut through it all and tell you, in simple language, how I have disposed of my business holdings, properties, and not inconsiderable wealth.’
Emma leaned back in the chair. Her eyes swept around the room, keenly observing. No one uttered one word and the four who had conspired against her looked as if they had been turned to stone images in their chairs.
Placing the will to one side, Emma continued, ‘Before I proceed with the disposition of my estate, I would like to clarify something. I think there is probably a misunderstanding about the McGill empire which I inherited. It struck me recently that there might be those amongst you who believe Paul left me everything unconditionally, and that I can therefore dispose of the McGill fortune in any way I see fit. However, this is not the case.’
She took a sip of the water and shifted in her seat. She looked at the gathering at large and said in a solemn tone, ‘Under the terms and conditions of Paul McGill’s last will and testament, his natural daughter, Daisy Ainsley Amory, automatically inherits the entire estate when I die. From her, the estate passes to her two children, Paula McGill Amory and Philip McGill Amory, to be divided in equal shares between them after their mother’s death.’
Low murmurings broke out. Emma held up a silencing hand. ‘During her lifetime, Daisy will receive the income from the McGill estate, with the Rossiter Merchant Bank acting as trustees. I have appointed Daisy executrix of the McGill estate and Henry Rossiter as co-executor. Upon my death, Daisy’s daughter, Paula, will take my place on the board of the Sitex Oil Corporation and will act on behalf of her mother, as she has been trained by me to do. Also, upon my death, Daisy’s son, Philip, will take full control of the McGill holdings in Australia and will run them for his mother, which he has been learning to do under my supervision for the past three years. I assume you all clearly understand that in no way can any of my other children, or grandchildren, inherit one single penny from the McGill estate.’
No one spoke. Emma’s narrowed eyes travelled swiftly across the faces staring at her with rapt intensity. Whatever her other children were thinking, they were keeping their feelings to themselves and their faces were unmoving.
She said, ‘With the McGill inheritance clarified, I will now commence with the disposition of my own estate.’ Emma felt the tension and expectancy increase so palpably it seemed to reach out and touch her in waves. Her gaze settled on Edwina’s only child, the thirty-two-year-old Earl of Dunvale, grandson of Edwin Fairley and half cousin to Jim. ‘Anthony, please come here and stand by me.’
The young earl, who was rather shy, looked momentarily startled to be singled out, but, none the less, he did as she asked and took up a position to the right of Emma. She flashed him a smile and turned back to face the others. ‘My eldest grandson, Anthony, will receive the income from a two-million-pound trust which I have created for him. I also give to Anthony my house in Jamaica, British West Indies, and all furnishings therein, with the exception of the paintings currently hanging in that house.’ Emma looked up at Anthony, who was astonished and speechless. She said, ‘I have not left you any interest in my business because you have never worked for me, and also because you are fully occupied running your estates in Ireland and the various business ventures you inherited from your father.’ She paused and gave him a penetrating stare. ‘I hope you understand and do not feel cheated in any way.’
‘Good Lord, Grandmother, absolutely not!’ he cried, blushing. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed. You’ve been generous beyond belief. Thank you.’ He made to return to his seat.
Emma restrained him. ‘Stay here with me,’ she said. Anthony nodded and stepped back, standing behind Emma’s chair at the right. ‘Now to come to my two youngest grandchildren, Amanda and Francesca.’ She beckoned to the fourteen-year-old twins, daughters of Elizabeth, grandchildren of Arthur Ainsley, who sat on the floor at Blackie’s feet. They stood up, looking slightly bewildered, and approached the desk holding hands.
‘Stand over there by your cousin, girls,’ Emma instructed. ‘I have also established a trust of two million pounds for Amanda and the same for Francesca, who will receive the income from said trusts upon reaching the age of eighteen.’ She swivelled to regard the twins. ‘I know you are a little young to understand these proceedings. I will explain everything to you later.’
‘Yes, Grandy,’ they said together. Amanda cried tearfully, ‘You’re not going to die, are you, Grandmother?’
Emma shook her head and smiled reassuringly. ‘No, not yet, dear. But I must make proper provision for your futures. That’s what this is all about.’
‘We can come and live with you, can’t we?’ Francesca asked plaintively, her face puckering up.
‘We’ll talk about that tomorrow, dear.’
Emma leaned forward, clasping her hands together, and her voice, always strong, sounded more vibrant than ever. ‘I will now discuss the disposition of Harte Enterprises, the company that controls my clothing factories, woollen mills, Deerfield Estates, the Roe Land Development Corporation, as well as the General Retail Trading Company and the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company. As you know, it is a holding company worth many millions of pounds and I own one hundred per cent of the shares—’
She broke off, took a sip of water, and leaned back in the chair, her face inscrutable. A faint smile touched her lips fleetingly. As raptly attentive as the four conspirators had been before, they were now mesmerized. She looked pointedly at Robin and then at Kit.
‘I bequeath to my grandson Alexander Barkstone, fifty-two per cent of my shares in Harte Enterprises.’
She heard Kit suck in his breath, incredulity spreading across his face. Robin gasped, ‘My God!’, turned ashen, and half rose. Emma glared. ‘To continue. I bequeath to my grandchildren Sarah Lowther, Jonathan Ainsley, and Emily Barkstone the rest of my shares in Harte Enterprises. Said shares to be divided equally between these three, each one receiving sixteen per cent of the remaining shares.’
She motioned to the four beneficiaries to come to the desk. They stood before her, their faces suitably serious. Emma looked at each one of them in turn and said evenly, ‘I hope you understand my reasoning behind the disposition of Harte Enterprises. After careful deliberation, I decided the only way to preserve the company, and prevent any dissension or quarrelling later, was to put control of the company into one person’s hands. In my considered opinion, Alexander is the best equipped, in knowledge and experience, to run the company. But this is no reflection on your capabilities, which are superior. You will continue to work in the subsidiaries and take control of your own divisions upon my death. And of course, you will derive considerable income from the shares I have given you. I have also established a one-million-pound trust for each one of you, Alexander included. I hope you don’t think I’ve played favourites, or been unfair.’
They reassured her that they fully understood, individually thanked her profusely, and stepped to the left of the desk. Sarah looked fixedly at the stone fireplace, unable to meet Kit’s angry gaze. She knew her father had expected to inherit a large chunk of the Harte Enterprises shares. Jonathan looked down at his feet, avoiding Robin’s glaring countenance for the same reason. But the saturnine Alexander and his ebullient sister, Emily, seemed unconcerned about Elizabeth. Their mother’s reaction was one of bewilderment bordering on stunned disbelief.
Emma continued, ‘To digress for a moment from my business holdings. I would like to tell you how I am disposing of my various homes, collections of art, sculpture, and jewellery. To my grandson Philip McGill Amory, I leave the remainder of my art collection and sculpture, with the exception
of the paintings here at Pennistone Royal, which currently repose in my various other homes, executive offices in London, Paris, and New York. Philip, please come and join your cousins.’
Philip paused at the desk and thanked her. She said, ‘I am not leaving you anything else, Philip, because you are going to be a multi-millionaire under your grandfather’s will. I hope you appreciate my motives.’
‘I do indeed, Grandy. You have been eminently fair.’
‘Now to my other homes. I bequeath the following residences to the following of my grandchildren. To Alexander, the villa at Cap Martin in the South of France. To Sarah, the house in Belgrave Square. To Emily, the Avenue Foch apartment in Paris. To Jonathan, the Fifth Avenue apartment in New York. The same grandchildren will also inherit all the furnishings in said residences. My jewellery, with the exception of my emeralds, is to be divided equally amongst my granddaughters Sarah, Emily, Francesca, and Amanda.’
Emma stopped and signalled to Daisy with her eyes. Her youngest daughter, acutely aware of the antipathy in the room, rose and glided swiftly across the floor, positioning herself next to her son, Philip. Emma said, ‘To my daughter Daisy, I give the McGill emerald ring, earrings, and necklace, given to me by her father. I also bequeath to her this house, Pennistone Royal, and all of its contents, to be used by her during her lifetime. Upon Daisy’s demise it will pass to her daughter, Paula.’
Mutterings and whisperings rippled in the air. Dresses rustled. Chairs creaked as bodies were shifted angrily. Her four eldest children, seated at the opposite side of the room, were staring at her with open antagonism, but Emma’s gaze did not waver, and her face was implacable. Her eyes focused on Jim Fairley. She lifted a document from the pile. ‘This is for you, Jim,’ she said, putting it in an envelope quickly and holding it out to him.
Jim was taken aback, his eyes widening, and then he hurried to her side. She handed him the envelope. ‘This is your new contract, ensuring your employment with the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company for the next ten years. Peruse it, show it to your solicitors, and return it to me next week. Signed. I am also appointing you managing director of the company, to take effect next month, with an increase in salary.’
‘Thank you very much, Mrs Harte. I don’t know how to express my gratitude. I will—’
Emma said crisply. ‘Later, Jim. And please, stay here with the others.’ Emma lifted the glass of water and drank deeply, emptying the glass. She straightened up in the chair, her demeanour imperious, her face glacial. ‘I now come to the disposal of the Harte department-store chain. Something I’m quite certain you’ve all been anxiously waiting to hear about.’ She stopped, her eyes becoming reflective. ‘I built that chain from nothing, with the toil of these hands.’ She lifted them in the air for them all to see. ‘A lifetime’s work has gone into building that chain into what it is today. One of the biggest in the world. I decided several weeks ago that it must pass into the right hands, that it must go to the one person who would ensure its continuation, who would run it efficiently, in the manner in which I have always run it—’ She bit off the end of her sentence dramatically. The silence was overwhelming now, the tension almost unbearable.
‘I give and bequeath all of my shares in Harte Stores to my granddaughter Paula McGill Amory. I also give to Paula the remainder of my emerald collection.’
Automatically Paula rose, discovering to her dismay that her legs were unsteady as she traversed the long stretch of carpet. But she kept her face expressionless, her eyes pinned solely on Emma. Alerted for trouble though she had been all week, she had not expected anything quite as dramatic, and she dared not think of the repercussions. She stood in front of the desk. ‘Thank you for the trust you are showing in me, Grandmother. I promise Harte Stores will be safe always.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that, darling?’ Emma said.
Paula stepped towards the others who ringed Emma like a phalanx. Grandmother’s divided the room into two camps, Paula said to herself, and wondered with sharpening interest what was going to happen next.
‘Finally, I have appointed my daughter Daisy Amory as executrix of my estate, and Henry Rossiter, of the Rossiter Merchant Bank, as co-executor.’
Edwina, Kit, Robin, and Elizabeth were paralysed with shock, and Emma saw hatred mingled with bitterness and disappointment gleaming on their cold faces. She sat perfectly still, waiting for the furore to begin.
It was Robin who recovered first. He sprang up, his face apoplectic. ‘Now look here, Mother. You’ve been grossly unfair. You have cold-bloodedly cut us out of your will, deprived us of what is rightfully ours. I fully appreciate the ramifications of the McGill estate, but your own fortune and business holdings should have automatically come to your children. We are your legal heirs. I don’t intend to accept this. I am going to contest the will, and the others will back me. Undue influence has obviously been brought to bear on you. I will prove that you were incompetent when you drew it. You are obviously no longer responsible for your actions. Any court of law will recognize that. Furthermore—’
‘Shut up and sit down,’ Emma said, her voice cutting through the air. She stood up and gripped the edge of the desk. ‘I did indeed cut you out of my will. And for good reason. You see, I know you four plotted to wrest my empire from me, to get everything for yourselves, even at the expense of your own children.’ She laughed sardonically. ‘I think I might have had a grudging respect for you if you had been subtle in your scheming. I’ve always admired clever adversaries. But you were inept and obvious.’ She sucked in her breath. ‘And there was a fatal flaw in your plot. You underestimated me.’
She gazed at them, her eyes thin green slits beneath the old lids. ‘Henry Rossiter once described you as a nest of vipers. How right he was. You really don’t deserve any consideration in view of your unconscionable behaviour. But I am not as vindictive as you might suppose, and as many others would be in my place. And so I have decided not to revoke the trust funds I established for each of you some years ago.’ Emma’s lip curled with disdain. ‘As for contesting my will, well, I expected that. I second-guessed you on that one, Robin. And I am prepared for that contingency.’
Emma picked up an envelope, from which she took four pieces of paper. She held them up in the air and fluttered them between her fingers. ‘These are cheques made out to each one of you. The value of each cheque? One million pounds. A drop in the bucket to what you would have received if you had not betrayed me, but, nevertheless, a lot of money by anybody’s standards.’ She smiled cynically. ‘Don’t think these are outright gifts. They are not. I am simply buying you. And I know you all have a price.’
Placing the cheques on the desk, she picked up a sheaf of documents. ‘If you each accept your cheque for one million pounds, cashable on Monday, incidentally, you will sign an individual contract with me.’ She waved the documents she was holding at them. ‘They are already drawn, as you can see. Each contract is a legal agreement between us, stipulating that you will not challenge my will. As a lawyer, Robin, you know that by signing such an agreement and accepting monetary consideration, you cannot ever contest.’
Her eyes flickered from Robin to Kit, Edwina, and Elizabeth. ‘Let me warn you now I have made certain my will is irrevocable. Since this is the case, you might wonder why I am prepared to give you each one million pounds. Very simply, to prevent your disturbing my business empire with so much as a single ripple, and to ensure none of you causes trouble for my grandchildren.’ She took hold of the cheques again, waving them in the air. ‘Let’s just say I believe in insurance policies.’
She sat down, gazing at them unemotionally. Kit had slumped in the chair. He was flustered, and he could not meet her eyes. Elizabeth was nervously twisting her hands together, held in the grip of obvious indecision, while Robin, the ringleader, had adopted an expression of false bravado. Of them all, it was Edwina who seemed the calmest, the least concerned.
Emma, who had paid no attention to her daughters
-in-law or her son-in-law, the count, during the proceedings, now addressed them. ‘Would you like to confer with your better halves?’ she asked, and laughed. ‘A million pounds is a hell of a lot of money to turn down.’ June and Valerie, who had always been fond of Emma and were obviously horror-stricken at the duplicity of their husbands, shook their heads mutely. And the count, aware of his rocky position in the family, also politely declined.
‘Come on, make up your minds,’ Emma snapped. ‘I haven’t got all night.’ She stood up and briskly began to return the documents to the briefcase. ‘Suit yourselves. But I’m warning you for the last time, you won’t win if you attempt to contest the will after my death. Never. I will outsmart you from the grave.’
Elizabeth roused herself first. ‘Where’s the pen?’ she cried, standing up, avoiding Robin’s furious gaze. Edwina followed her. Robin joined them, bristling with rage. They all signed the contracts and accepted their cheques. Kit was the last. Emma noticed that his hand shook and he was quite unable to look her in the face.
Emma locked the contracts in her briefcase. ‘Well, now that this little bit of family business has been completed satisfactorily, I suggest we continue the party.’
There was a moment of absolute silence and everyone gaped at her, and then the pandemonium she had anticipated earlier suddenly broke loose. They all started to speak at once, thronging around her. Emma picked up her briefcase and said, ‘Please excuse me for a few moments.’ She took hold of Paula’s arm. ‘Go up to the parlour with Jim. I would like to see you both alone for a moment. And take my briefcase with you, please.’
‘Of course, Grandy.’
Emma glided across the room. She tucked her arm through Blackie’s. ‘Will you come and have a quiet drink with me?’
‘I’d be delighted,’ Blackie said. He tilted her face to his, as was his way, and looked deeply into her eyes, his own twinkling. ‘Quite a performance, Emma. Quite a performance!’
A Woman of Substance Page 97
