When the tea things were cleared away, Lily’s mood of calm expanded with the air of expectancy that lit up all the faces around them. It felt as if an electric current passed through everyone in the room when the grey-whiskered lawyer got up to speak.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘it is my duty to read the will of my client, Mrs Sarah Chancellor. It is also my duty to inform all concerned that the said will was drawn up and sealed in my presence by the testator only a week ago, when my client could not have anticipated her tragic death. However, I must warn you that should the coroner come to a different conclusion as to the cause of death from that which prevails today, this will could be revoked and the terms of the testator’s previous will would apply.’
He waited for someone to speak, but you could have heard a fly walking about if there had been one. He broke the seal on the great thick envelope and pulled out a wax-sealed and ribbon-bound document, which he opened out on the sloping box before him: six or seven sheets of parchment. Then, very slowly, in a deep, unemotional voice, he read:
This is the last will and testament of me, Sarah Elizabeth Chancellor, of Pilkington House, Park Lane, Macclesfield. I hereby revoke all former wills and codicils and declare this to be my last will.
I appoint John Hammond and his wife Catriona Hammond, of Archerfield House, Bollington, in the county of Cheshire, to be the Executors and Trustees of this my will.
The lawyer glanced about the room again before returning his attention to the will. Much faster, and in a higher pitch of voice, as if he wanted to get this next part over and done with, he read:
First, to my husband, Francis Chancellor. Upon marriage my husband was made a director of the printworks and given a ten per cent holding. He also received a generous settlement of tenanted properties. Francis Chancellor is entitled by law to a proportion of my personal property. There is nothing the law allows me to do to deprive him of these benefits or the legal right he has to live in our marital home until he marries again. But l owe him nothing. I leave him nothing.
There was a noise – a shocked catching of breath before, with a crashing sound, Mr Chancellor stood, letting his chair fall to the floor. ‘No! No! No! Bloody vindictive!’ His face was crimson, suffused with outrage, and everyone present saw this as permission to tut and sigh and cough and blow noses.
Lily should have felt pity for him, hearing how low he was held in his wife’s esteem. But to her it was exciting. She could not help but be impressed with all the drama. It was better than the cinema. She’d never seen grown-up people behaving like this, for other chairs were shuffling and some of the working people were saying, ‘Shame! Shame!’ and Mam’s eyes were ablaze with what looked like triumph but must be anger. Nellie Plant’s pale eyes were as round as saucers and Mr Leadbetter’s mouth was gaping open.
Ray Chancellor stood and put an arm about his father’s shoulders, making everyone around the room voice their approval with cries of ‘That’s the ticket’ and ‘Good lad’. It was a right and proper demonstration – a touching show of affection. Ray Chancellor spoke words of comfort in his father’s ear to persuade him to sit again and hear the rest of the will-reading.
All this happened in about a minute, and the lawyer paused for a sip or two of water before continuing in the same solemn tones.
Chancellor Printers is a family business founded by my father and left by him in trust to his beloved grandson, my dear son, Ray Francis. If I die before Ray Francis reaches his twenty-first birthday, the thirtieth of August, nineteen hundred and thirty-six, then until that time all of the printworks will be under the joint control of my husband and the trustees I have appointed.
In nineteen thirty a private company was formed and it was necessary to raise capital. This was done by the issuing of debentures. For the sake of privacy we chose to have the debentures payable to bearer rather than registered holder. Bearer bonds are negotiable instruments and can be transferred from person to person by the simple process of handing over the said debenture documents without registration. I have handed over ninety-five per cent of my holding to my dear son Ray Francis and these will remain in trust for him should I die before my son reaches his majority.
After this there followed a lengthy list of earnings from stock holdings, mortgages, pensions, investments and dividends. Lily never knew such things existed. He was taking for ever to come to the end, and through this long recital, which fascinated her, chairs were being scraped as people became bored and moved their positions. Only the family, the Hammonds, Mam and Lily gave this dusty list their rapt attention. Lily was enthralled. No wonder these people were powerful compared with those like themselves, who had only what they earned or could save.
At last the lawyer came to the bit everyone had been waiting for. An electric silence fell.
The following bequests are to be met from the remaining five per cent holding in the printworks and such monies as are deposited under my name in the District Bank. To the tenants of the printworks’ properties, whether working or pensioned, and their dependants I bequeath the properties entire and without entail. The deeds are to be handed over when my will is proved.
I give and bequeath to the following women who may suffer loss as a result of my death the sum of three hundred pounds each. These named legatees are as follows: Miss Ellen Plant of High Street, Macclesfield, for her loyal service as head designer at Chancellor’s Printworks; Mrs Elsie Stanway of Jordangate, Macclesfield, for her services as my dressmaker; Miss Winifred Mitchell of Pickford Street, Macclesfield, for her services as my hairdresser; Miss Veronica Bell of Exchange Street, Macclesfield, for her services as my personal maid; Mrs Albert Leadbetter of Hibel Road, Macclesfield, for her services as purveyor of fruit and vegetables.
There followed a list of small bequests to house servants, but Lily could not take any more in in detail. Her mind was whirling. They were rich! Three hundred pounds! They were rich beyond their wildest dreams – and Mam was not smiling. The lawyer then tapped on the table for quiet.
To such children who are above the age of eleven years, of the above legatees. I leave their choice of personal memento from the contents of my private sitting room and bedroom. I wish to have these two rooms emptied of my effects. The entire contents are afterwards to be sold and the proceeds given to the Guardians’ Institute.
Lastly I give and bequeath to my beloved son, Ray Francis Chancellor, the whole of the residue of my property, real and personal.
The lawyer removed his pince-nez. ‘Has anyone any questions?’
‘What does it mean? Deeds and such without entail?’ a man at the front called out.
The lawyer said, ‘It means that Mrs Chancellor has given to her workers the houses they presently rent.’
‘Won’t we have to pay anything?’ another asked.
The lawyer tapped upon the table again. ‘Insofar as this will shall be proven, the terms of it will apply.’
‘Our house is going to be condemned!’ shouted somebody.
‘And ours!’
‘And mine!’ Every week or so a list of condemned properties was published in the Macclesfield Courier, streams of them week after week. Whole families were being sent to live in a vast estate of new houses on the Moss. The Moss houses were luxurious houses, with gardens, electricity, hot and cold running water, flushing indoor lavatories and half-tiled kitchens and bathrooms. But not everyone wanted to go. Some saw it as a mark of shame to have had their slum houses pulled down. Others, it was said, would keep their coal in the bath; they knew only how to live in squalor.
‘When will we know?’ someone shouted from the back.
‘None of us expects any dispute,’ the lawyer said. ‘The inquest was held yesterday. The coroner will give his verdict tomorrow. It is expected that he will be satisfied that death was accidental. The will can then be proved and the bequests made.’
There were murmurs of ‘I don‘t understand it all’ and other banalities, but Lily’s mind was already far ahe
ad. Mrs Chancellor had given away the company houses to save having to pull them down or repair them – and to the people whose houses were rented from her husband she had given the means to buy them. They could buy their house. Or Mam could buy the bungalow she said she had always wanted. Either way they would be property owners and could say, ‘That’s my house!’ A man had paid £375 for two houses in Macclesfield only last week, and they were good, solid houses.
They could buy two houses if they wanted to. They could live in one and rent out the other. Or buy a whole row of cottages. Or put the money in the bank and get the interest. That was as long as nobody tried to contest the will. But who would? Mr Leadbetter? Lily saw acceptance, or it might be resignation, in his eyes. He would take his bequest and drop his threats. And if Mr Leadbetter took his share there would be no justification for Mr Chancellor to contest the will.
Mr Hammond had come up to their table. ‘Elsie, my dear! May I take Lily to the private sitting room to choose a memento?’
Lily followed him to a large, airy room that was painted white and gold. It was a pretty room, with wide spaces between the yellow silk-upholstered chairs and sofas. A modem Crane piano in an alcove was set about with photographs in silver frames. There was no music to be seen. There were pedestal tables holding ornaments that eight or so young people were examining under the eagle eye of Mrs Hammond who was standing in front of an empty marble fireplace. Magnus was not there but Sylvia was beside the window, looking out. Lily went to her. ‘Can I have anything?’
‘Anything,’ Sylvia said. ‘What is left has to be sold off and given to the workhouse. I think she was afraid that if Mr Chancellor marries again …’ Sylvia put her finger to her lips.
Lily saw Dresden figures, silver boxes with purple linings, pots and bowls in lacquer and gold; all were set out for them to make their choices. Some of the children had chosen and were pointing their objects out to Mrs Hammond, who wrapped the mementoes for them. A stack of tissue paper lay upon one of the side tables for the purpose.
Mr Hammond came back and stood beside her. ‘Well, Lily? Is there anything you‘d like?’
There was. Behind the locked glass doors of a splendid tall bureau bookcase in red wood that had drawers and a locking cupboard under the shelves, she had seen two books; a blue leather-bound Every Man’s Own Lawyer, which said under the title, ‘By A Barrister’, and a red-bound one called The Universal Home Lawyer. Illustrated. She wanted them. If she had them she could find out all about wills and deeds and properties – and what it meant, legally, to be illegitimate. ‘Could I have two of those books?’
Mr Hammond said, ‘Lily! The others have chosen something valuable. You want books.’ He put his hand on her shoulder and called to Mrs Hammond. ‘Come here, my dear.’
She came and stood, frowning. ‘Lily? What do you want?’
‘Those two books,’ she said. ‘If that’s all right?’
‘That will be all right.’ She said to Mr Hammond, ‘She may as well have all the books. And that hideous bookcase. Nobody would buy it.’
‘Very well.’ Mr Hammond smiled at Lily. ‘Take the two books you’ve chosen. I will have the others and the bookcase delivered to your house. But Lily, I thought you’d have asked for the piano.’
‘I wouldn’t have dared,’ she said, blushing.
‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ he said. ‘You shall have the piano.’
Elsie stood at the little iron gate of Pilkington House waiting for Lily. The pains in her neck had gone. The relief was tremendous. She had barely begun to take it all in when Frank came out to join her.
‘Where’s our Lil?’ he said and touched her hand in a secret caress.
He had not taken it badly. Elsie’s last fears evaporated. She returned the pressure of his hand. ‘She’s inside. Choosing a memento.’
He took his hand away, looked about; then seeing nobody, said, ‘Glad you came, love. It’s been an ordeal.’
‘And for me. I thought she might have said …’ Elsie gave a relieved laugh, seeing that Frank’s bouncy air had returned. ‘I nearly fainted when the lawyer came to the bit about – ladies who might suffer.’ She had her back to the front door and he nudged her to show her that Lily was coming out. Elsie, not seeing her, went on, ‘In a year’s time you will be free to do what you want. You can’t pretend she’s left you with nowt!’
Frank said, ‘You’re better off than l am now!’ He put his head back and laughed out loud.
Elsie had now seen Lily, who was smiling at Frank’s remark. ‘The money won’t make any difference to me,’ she said. Then, as she spotted the parcel in Lily’s arms, ‘What did you pick for yourself?’
‘Books,’ Lily answered. ‘Books about the law.’
‘Books?’ Elsie raised laughing eyes towards Frank. ‘Who does she take after?’ she said. ‘Books! She’s into everything.’
‘You’re a good friend, Elsie,’ Frank said. ‘One of the best.’
Elsie’s smile vanished. She was more than a friend. But his visits had decreased over the last year. Frank’s being an alderman, buying properties, running his trading company and, as he called it, ‘working his clogs off’ at the mill took up most of his free time. He told her, when she’d asked if his interest was waning, that he loved her, but he was getting on, nearing forty, his hair was greying and his appetites were going. That much was true; it was three weeks since they had last …
Oh God! She should not think that way. Not when Frank had so much on his plate – disappointment in his civic life and scandal to brazen out with people thinking Ray might be responsible for this rotten business. She frowned and said to Lily, ‘We’d best get a move on.’
They had gone a little way down Park Lane when Lily asked, ‘You didn’t mean it, did you, Mam? About the money making no difference?’
Elsie stopped and looked around, and when she saw that there was nobody about she laughed, loud and heartily. ‘Of course it will make a difference. I was just saying it, to see what Frank would say.’
‘He didn’t seem heartbroken to me,’ Lily said. ‘And he’s rich, isn’t he? All that property, and the rents.’
‘He’s done all right for himself,’ Elsie said. ‘Frank’s already worth more than the combined assets of Chancellor’s Printworks.’
‘It said in the will that he will be in charge of the works and he can live in the house until he marries,’ Lily said. ‘Do you think he’ll get married again?’
Elsie rebuked her. ‘It’s in poor taste, this conversation. With Sarah Chancellor only just laid to rest!’
‘I didn’t mean …’ Lily’s face was bright red. ‘I shouldn’t have said it.’ But Elsie wanted to keep on talking about it. Her mood was lightening with every relieved thought. Frank was free. They were no longer committing adultery. They could marry after a decent interval and at last she’d be a respectable married woman. Elsie Chancellor!
They were at the bottom of Mill Street by this time, not talking loud enough for anyone following to hear. ‘What do you think, Lil?’ she said. ‘Can you see Frank marrying again?’
‘No,’ Lily answered. ‘Of course he won’t. He doesn’t need to marry for money. He’ll catch up on all the good times he missed when he was young. I think he’ll just gallivant!’
‘Gallivant?’ Elsie shook her head. ‘He’s not the sort. He’s too old to play the fool. Don’t believe what his wife said. Sarah Chancellor was bitter. She never loved Frank. Her will was no surprise.’ She grabbed Lily’s arm and tucked it into hers as they went fast up Mill Street.
Lily asked, ‘What shall we do with the money? We’re rich, aren’t we?’
‘We’ll do nothing with it. At first,’ Elsie said.
‘After a bit then?’ Lily asked. ‘Will we buy property? Buy the shop?’
‘No. I wouldn’t live in Jordangate if I didn’t have to.’
‘We don’t have to,’ Lily answered. ‘You could buy that bungalow you’ve always wanted.’
‘Wh
at would you like to do with it?’ Elsie asked, expansive now that everything was going to come out right. ‘Come on, out with it. What do you want that money can buy?’
‘I don’t know. Just to know you are not poor any more.’
They were almost at the top of Mill Street. And all of a sudden Elsie felt as if a great weight had dropped off her shoulders. Frank would be back. How stupid to think he was losing interest in her. He had been having trouble controlling Ray for a long time. This business could have been hanging over him for weeks. He’d kept it to himself, so as not to worry her. She said, ‘Not just me. We are rich. You and me.’
Lily said, ‘And I’m taking over, Mam. I want us to pay our way. I’ll make our expenses go round. You can do what you like with the legacy.’
‘I know!’ Elsie looked over her shoulder again, as if there might be an eavesdropper behind. Then, softly, she said, ‘We are going to spend a little bit of it, making ourselves more comfortable. Then we’ll have a holiday, and new clothes. Whatever we fancy.’
‘And put the rest into investments and bonds … ?’
‘No. I’m thirty-nine. I’d like to get married. Next year.’ She and Frank must not become careless. There must be no gossip now. But in a year’s time they could be seen together.
‘You don’t have anyone to marry.’ Lily gave a strange, humourless laugh. ‘And anyway, you don’t need to marry. You are out of it now.’
‘And you,’ Elsie said, as she glanced at her quickly. Lily was looking straight back into her mother’s face with the clear-eyed gaze that was so like Frank’s it often stopped her heart.
Then, and it was as if the bottom dropped out of Elsie’s world, Lily said. ‘No, Mam. I won’t be out of it until you tell me who my father is.’ Elsie stopped, rooted to the spot, feeling as if the blood were draining out of her, soaking through the flagstones into the ground. Lily’s arm was tight round Elsie’s, to support her in case she fell. The child was looking straight at her. ‘My medical records say “Miss Elsie Stanway” and it says, “Father unknown”. You have to tell me, Mam.’
A Daughter's Shame Page 20
