“We are waiting for the executors, Mr. Evan Evans and Mr. Cuthbert Spring,” the attorney replied. “I expect them here every moment, for I appointed eleven o’clock, and it’s now a quarter past,” he added, consulting his watch. “We cannot open the will till they arrive. A little patience, my good young sir. We have the whole day before us.”
“Well, it’s a great bore,” Malpas cried.
“I’m sorry you find it so, but it cannot be helped,” Mr. Gripper replied.
Another quarter of an hour elapsed, and still no executors arrived. Mr. Gripper looked at his watch every five minutes, and began to grow fidgety. I heard him ask Elkanah, in a whisper, if he was sure the messenger had started overnight for Cottonborough, and the clerk replied that he was quite sure of it. The interval was certainly very tedious, for no one knew what to talk about. Outside there was a considerable hubbub, for the farm-yard was full of inquisitive folks from Marston and the neighbourhood, and they were talking and laughing loudly. The cows were lowing in the shippons, and old Talbot, who was now quite lively, was barking loudly at the strangers. In-doors we were quiet enough. The poor relatives endeavoured to appear unconcerned, but could not conceal their anxiety. They gathered together in little groups, and I could tell from their glances, which were frequently directed towards me with no friendly expression, that I was the chief object of their conversation; and that they regarded me as an interloper, who had no business there, but had artfully contrived to rob them of their rights. Indeed, I was the centre of general observation and remark, and felt so uncomfortable in consequence, that I would willingly have retired, if I could have done so without impropriety.
Keeping aloof from the rest, Malpas flung himself upon the sofa, where he sat, looking the picture of insolent impatience, tapping his neat little boots with a cane, and grumbling audibly. At last, unable to stand it longer, he got up with a gesture of ennui, and was really about to withdraw, when Simon Pownall, who had been hanging about the sofa for some time, stopped him. My attention was attracted, and I caught what passed.
“Heard what Mr. Gripper said, sir. Better stay,” the barber-surgeon observed.
“What for?” Malpas demanded, with a sneer. “Only to learn how much that upstart fool has got. No, thank’ee — I’m off.”
“Wait five minutes. Only five. Can’t give my reasons now for asking you. Find ’em out in time. ‘Mum”s the word with me.”
“You know it’s all up with me, and only want to keep mo here to have a laugh at my expense, you mischievous rascal. But I’ll disappoint you.”
And he tried to tear himself away, but Pownall detained him by the button.
“Sit down, my dear — pray,” Mrs. Sale interposed.
And as Malpas reluctantly complied, I heard Pownall say to him, “Must have a word with you after the will is read.”
“Must! indeed!” Malpas exclaimed; “suppose I won’t.”
“Yes, you will,” Pownall rejoined, with his abominable cunning grin. “‘Cos why? It’ll be to your own advantage. Understand. ‘Mum’s the word with me.”
At this moment great excitement was occasioned among the assemblage, by the announcement that a post-chaise had driven up to the garden gate, bringing the long-looked-for executors. Mr. Gripper went to meet them, and in a minute or two afterwards ushered them into the house. Mr. Evan Evans was a middle-aged man, with pleasing features, and his bald head glistened like a piece of marble. He was very deaf and carried an ear-trumpet. Cuthbert Spring looked grave, as befitted the occasion, but I could detect a merry twinkle in the corner of his eye, as he shook hands with me, and said, in an undertone,—” Well, young squire, your fortune’s made, I’m told. I didn’t expect we should meet again so soon, and under such circumstances. I hope you’ll do credit to your good uncle’s preference.”
“I hope I shall,” I replied. And as my conduct on the previous night flashed across my recollection, I thought I had begun but badly. However, I resolved to act very differently in future, and neither to countenance nor permit such proceedings as had then taken place.
Mr. Evan Evans likewise shook hands with me, and after he had apologised to the assembly generally for being so much behind his time, alleging that he had been detained by unavoidable engagements, we all adjourned to the little parlour, where chairs had been placed; and while the principals ranged themselves round the table, Mr. Gripper took his seat, and proceeded to open the will. Next to him sat his clerk Elkanah. Deeply interested as I was, I could not help scrutinising the countenances of the assemblage. Some of the poorer relatives, who stood humbly in the doorway, mixed with the household, looked painfully anxious; indeed, almost everybody had a serious air except Malpas, who was leaning with his, back against the mantelpiece, and Simon Pownall, who stood close behind him.
Mr. Gripper adjusted his spectacles, and giving a preliminary cough, all eyes were immediately fixed upon him, except those of Simon Pownall, which I felt were maliciously rivetted on me.
“Before I commence,” Mr. Gripper sententiously observed, “I may remark that my late respected friend and client, Mr. Mobberley, whose will I am about to read, considerately — very considerately I may say — thought proper to destroy several bonds and securities which he held for various sums lent by him to different parties, most of whom being here present, may consider themselves thereby fully released from their liabilities; but I think it right to observe that such discharges must be considered in the light of legacies.”
Mr. Evan Evans, who had held his trumpet to his ear to catch the purport of this speech, exchanged glances with his coexecutor.
I took advantage of the pause to whisper to Doctor Sale that I had seen his bonds destroyed by my uncle.
The doctor looked considerably relieved, and said, “Very kind in the old gentleman, indeed.”
Some of the other interested parties did not express equal satisfaction, but, on the contrary, groaned audibly.
Mr. Gripper proceeded:
“With regard to what I have to lay before you, I may observe, in limine, that, in the course of my practice, I have prepared two wills for my late respected friend and client; one during the lifetime of his excellent wife, and about the time when she had the misfortune to lose a favourite cat (glancing at me), disposing of his property in a particular manner (glancing at Malpas, who returned a look of angry impatience); and another immediately after Mrs. Mobberley’s death, entirely altering the disposition of his property (another glance at me) — as regards the person chiefly concerned, though, in other respects, the second will was a mere transcript of the first. One of these wills Mr. Mobberley destroyed on the day preceding his death. It is not for me to remark upon the conduct of my respected friend and client, which an interested party might no doubt consider to be the caprice of old age. It is sufficient for me to state the fact. Without further preamble, I shall therefore proceed to read the will, which, as the only one left, is necessarily the only one that can be acted upon.”
Unfolding the document, he then began to read it. But just at that moment there was some confusion at the door, which caused him to stop. Silence being restored, Mr. Gripper went on.
Slowly and calmly he read the will, as if it was no matter to anybody.
Every countenance, however, changed, and looks and gestures of the utmost surprise were interchanged, as it was announced that the person nominated by the testator as his heir, and to whom the bulk of his property was left, was no other than — MALPAS SALE.
Scarcely able to believe what I heard, I interrupted Mr. Gripper, exclaiming:
“Have you read the name aright, sir?”
I saw Pownall’s malicious eyes fixed on me, enjoying my confusion.
Malpas, if possible, was still more surprised than myself. He endeavoured to maintain a semblance of composure, and to appear unconcerned, but his flushed cheek and nervously-excited frame betrayed his extraordinary agitation. In a voice of forced calmness, he inquired:
“Are you in earnest, si
r?”
“Mr. Malpas Sale,” Mr. Gripper replied, with great gravity, but, at the same time, extreme suavity of manner, “I announced to you, and to every one present, that one of your uncle’s wills was destroyed. That was the later will, by which Mr. Mervyn Clitheroe was declared to be his heir. But the instrument I hold in my hand must now be acted upon, and by it you take the property.”
“Huzza!” Malpas shouted, unable to conceal his satisfaction. “Malpas, my boy, I sincerely congratulate you,” Doctor Sale cried, getting up and shaking his son’s hand. “You are a lucky fellow. This is more than I expected.”
“Doctor Sale, I entreat; consider who is present, and his disappointment,” Mrs. Sale interposed.
“True, my dear,” the doctor replied. “Such expressions of satisfaction are unbefitting a serious occasion like the present.
I feel it. However, there’s some excuse, you must own.”
By this time I had in some degree recovered from the confusion into which I had been thrown, and dashing aside the tears which, in spite of my efforts to repress them, started to my eyes, I addressed myself to the executors, both of whom appeared perfectly astounded at the unexpected turn that affairs had taken. Cuthbert Spring looked much concerned.
“It is impossible this can be right, gentlemen,” I said. “There must be some trickery or fraud, by which my uncle’s intentions in regard to me are frustrated. As far as I can, I protest against the will now brought forward, and call upon you, and upon every one here present, to bear witness that I do so. It is not my uncle’s last will; nor ought it to be considered as his will at all, for it is totally at variance with his own expressed declarations to me, made within a few hours of his death.”
There were confused murmurs among the assemblage at this speech, some of the speakers being for me; but the majority were against me. Mr. Gripper took upon him to reply:
“What you assert, young gentleman, may very well be,” he said gravely. “Your uncle possibly intended to leave you the property, but, unluckily for you, he destroyed the instrument by which his intentions might have been carried out.”
“But I do not believe that he did destroy it,” I rejoined.
“State your grounds for that opinion,” said Mr. Evan Evans, who had listened to me through his ear-trumpet. “Can you produce the other will, or tell us where to find it?”
“I am sorry I cannot,” I replied. “But my reasons for believing the will is not destroyed are these: on the day before his death I assisted my uncle to burn a quantity of old papers, amongst which was the document now brought forward by Mr. Gripper.”
“Do you mean to tell us that you saw your uncle burn the identical instrument which I hold in my hands?” the attorney remarked jocosely. “If so, how came it to be restored, in its present uninjured state, to the bureau, where I found it?”
“That I cannot tell,” I replied. “I only know it was placed on the bed, ready to be destroyed, while the right will was deposited in the bureau. Of that I am quite sure.”
“Well, gentlemen,” Mr. Gripper said, with a half-smile, “shall we proceed — or have these observations any weight with you?”
“A moment, if you please sir,” Cuthbert Spring cried. “You say, Mervyn, that one will was laid upon the bed, with other papers, for the purpose of being destroyed. How do you know it was the first will and not the last?”
“Because my attention was called to the circumstance by my uncle. He told me it was the first will.”
“And you afterwards saw that will — whichever it might be — burnt?”
“No; I was sent out of the room for a few minutes, and on my return my uncle told me he had destroyed it.”
“Then you did not see it thrown on the fire?”
“I did not.”
“Nor partly consumed?”
“I am not sure. I left it on the bed, as I have stated, and when I came back it was gone. There were several papers burning on the fire, and my uncle said it was among them.”
“The matter is easily explained, gentlemen,” Mr. Gripper interposed; “one will has been mistaken for the other, and the last has been accidentally destroyed. That is quite clear.”
“I fear so,” Mr. Evan Evans said, laying down his ear-trumpet.
“No such thing,” I cried. “I am positive of the correctness of what I have stated. My uncle examined the packet in the bureau, and convinced himself that it contained his last will, before he decided on committing the other to the flames. He was extremely particular in what he did, and apprehensive lest a mistake should occur.”
“This is certainly singular,” Cuthbert Spring said. “Shall we postpone the reading of this document till further investigations can be made?”
“I scarcely see the necessity of doing so,” Mr. Evan Evans replied. “The matter seems clear to me.”
“It may be made still clearer, if you choose, gentlemen,” Simon Pownall, said, stepping forward.
“How so?” Cuthbert Spring asked.
“What do you know about it, friend?” Mr. Evan Evans inquired, again putting his trumpet to his ear.
“A great deal. Saw him burn it.”
“What! were you in the room, man?” Cuthbert Spring cried sharply.
“No; in the garden. Could see him quite plainly though. Knew what he was about. When Master Mervyn left the room the old man got up, unlocked his bureau, took out a packet, and tossed it into th’ fire, putting t’other, which was lying on the bed, in its place.”
“Impossible!” I exclaimed.
“Oh! no, it’s quite possible,” the barber-surgeon rejoined with a grin—” for there it is.”
There was no denying that; and, as everything seemed against me, I was obliged to sit down.
“What took you to the garden, man?” Cuthbert Spring inquired.
“Curiosity,” Pownall replied. “Always like to know what’s going on. Took a peep, that was all, sir.”
“Are you satisfied now, gentlemen?” Mr. Gripper asked.
Cuthbert Spring had nothing more to say; and Mr. Evan Evans replied, “We are.”
Upon this the attorney proceeded with the reading of the will.
With the exception of some legacies, the entire property was left to Malpas, in trust, to be paid over to him when he came of age; but this event was deferred until his twenty-fifth birthday — an arrangement which somewhat damped his previous satisfaction, though his spirits again rose when he heard that five hundred pounds per annum were to be allowed him in the interim.
My uncle had not quite forgotten me. He bequeathed me one thousand pounds, coupled with an injunction against killing cats, which showed under what feeling the legacy was left. Five hundred pounds were also left to Hannah Massey, provided she married William Weever, and five hundred pounds each to the executors. Simon Pownall and Job Greaseby, likewise, came in for one hundred pounds each. I forget the rest of the legacies, but they were not much.
When he had done reading the will, Mr. Gripper arose, and walking into the house-place, the rest followed him there, with the exception of Cuthbert Spring, who remained behind with me.
“I am very sorry for you, my dear boy,” Cuthbert said. “It is a bitter pill, but it must be swallowed. And, after all, it is, perhaps, just as well that this fortune should not have come to you, for you will now be compelled to work, and may in the end be better off in all respects than you would have been otherwise. Depend upon it, what a man gains by his own exertions has a twofold value.”
“I should not care for what has occurred, if I did not feel that I have been defrauded of my rights — most likely by the contrivance of Simon Pownall. He is a designing knave, and I am sure the statement he made was utterly false.”
“Yet it appears to be borne out,” Cuthbert Spring replied; “and I fear the real explanation of the fatal mistake is, that poor Mr. Mobberley did not know what he was about. Such is my conviction. Was Mr. Pownall trusted by your uncle?”
“So much so, unluckily, that th
e rascal tried to induce the old gentleman to make a will in his own favour; and, failing in that, he has resorted to other underhand measures, of which the result is now apparent. Why, there he is!”
“What! your uncle?” Cuthbert exclaimed.
“No — Pownall,” I replied, pointing to the window, close to which was the malicious countenance of the barber-surgeon.
On seeing he was observed, he retreated.
“I hope he has overheard what I said of him, I remarked.
“Listeners never hear any good of themselves, that’s certain; and he is a strangely prying fellow,” Cuthbert rejoined. “Come, let us go into the other room. Don’t be cast down. There are always people malicious enough to rejoice in the mortifications of others. Don’t gratify them.”
“I won’t,” I replied, firmly.
And we went into the house-place, where the party were partaking of biscuit and wine; and I heard much coarse jesting at my expense, which even my presence did not restrain. It was a relief to me to find that Mrs. Sale was gone. After a little private conference with Mr. Gripper, to whom they gave certain instructions, the two executors departed; Cuthbert Spring telling me he would watch strictly over my interests, and if anything came to light which might benefit me, he would not fail to take instant advantage of it.
As soon as the executors were gone, Simon Pownall, who had kept out of the way till then, reappeared, and approaching Malpas, who was chatting and laughing with his father, signified that he wanted a word in private with him.
On this Malpas went with him into the little parlour, where they were closeted together for some time.
When Malpas came out he looked so much perturbed, that his father asked him what was the matter.
“Oh, nothing,” he replied.
I could not resist the impulse that prompted me to go up to him, and say, “So Pownall has told you how he managed it, — and has bargained for his reward, eh?”
Malpas stared at me, quite confounded, and turned excessively pale.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” he stammered out.
“Yes you do,” I replied, speaking with great vehemence; “you understand me well enough, for I can read in your looks what has passed between you and that villain. He has changed the wills — I know he has. What, do you give him for the job?”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 454
