A Woman of Substance (99 page)

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!’

Emma smiled back at him, but she remained silent, and together they left the library, crossed the Stone Hall, and followed Paula and Jim up the great curving staircase. Something prompted Emma to pause at the bend in the stairs. She turned and glanced back. Kit, Edwina, Robin, and Elizabeth were standing in the doorway of the library, watching her ascent, their faces unreadable. But she knew what they were thinking. She straightened up and with one foot she kicked out the back of her chiffon gown in a flippant gesture of disdainful dismissal. And she continued up the stairs, as proud and as
regal as ever.

Upon entering the parlour, Emma excused herself and went through into her bedroom. She returned a few minutes later to find Jim and Paula seated on one sofa, Blackie on the other. She stood in front of the fireplace and looked from Jim to Paula. ‘Have you told Paula the extraordinary story of the Harte women and the Fairley men?’

Jim said quickly, ‘No, I haven’t, Mrs Harte. I felt it was up to you to do so.’

‘What extraordinary story?’ Paula asked curiously.

‘I’ll let Jim recount it to you. He’ll tell you later. This is not the time.’ Now Emma uncurled her right hand. ‘I found this locket amongst my mother’s things after she died. It is engraved “A to E 1885”. I know that it was given to my mother, your great-grandmother, by Adam Fairley, Jim’s greatgrandfather. I want you to have it, Paula.’

Intrigued, Paula took the locket and examined it. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I will keep it always.’ She looked at Jim. ‘You must tell me the story when we go downstairs. It sounds fascinating.’

Emma now turned to Jim. ‘I also found this gentleman’s gold tie-pin with the locket. Could it have belonged to your great-grandfather?’

‘Why, I believe it did!’ Jim exclaimed, turning it over in his hand. ‘There was a photograph of Great-grandfather in Grandfather Edwin’s desk which I found when I was going through his possessions. Adam was a very young man when it was taken and he was dressed in riding clothes. I’m quite positive he was wearing this in his stock.’

‘Please keep it, Jim,’ Emma said softly.

‘Why, thank you, Mrs Harte. I’m very touched. And thank you for the contract, and the promotion. For everything. I didn’t expect—’