This Was A Man (11 page)

‘Most emphatically she does, madam. That is, assuming Mr and Mrs Morton will agree to sign an affidavit confirming that the Hon. Freddie Fenwick is their offspring, and that Lady Virginia
was aware of that at the time of the child’s birth.’

‘Just put the necessary document in front of them, Lord Goodman, and they will sign. And once they’ve done so, can Cyrus claim back the full amount he’s paid out to that
charlatan over the years?’

‘Every red cent, plus any interest or other charges set by the court, along with my fees, of course.’

‘So your advice would be to sue the bitch?’ Ellie May asked, leaning forward.

‘With one proviso,’ said Goodman, raising an eyebrow.

‘Lawyers always come up with a proviso just in case they end up losing. So let’s hear it.’

‘There wouldn’t be much point in suing Lady Virginia for such a large sum if she has no assets of any real value. One newspaper,’ he said, opening a thick file, ‘is
claiming she’s withdrawing young Freddie from his prep school because she can no longer afford the fees.’

‘But she owns a house in Onslow Square, I’m reliably informed, and has half a dozen staff to run it.’

‘Had,’ said Goodman. ‘Lady Virginia sold the house some months ago and sacked all the staff.’ He opened another file and checked some press cuttings before passing them
across to his client.

Once Ellie May had finished reading them, she asked, ‘Does this alter your opinion?’

‘No, but to start with, I would recommend we send Lady Virginia a without prejudice letter, requesting that she pay back the full amount, and give her thirty days to respond. I find it
hard to believe she won’t want to make some sort of settlement rather than be declared bankrupt and even face the possibility of being arrested for fraud.’

‘And if she doesn’t . . . because I have a feeling she won’t,’ said Ellie May.

‘You will have to decide whether or not to issue a writ, with the strong possibility that not one penny will be recovered, in which case you will still have to pay your own legal costs,
which will not be insubstantial.’ Goodman paused before adding, ‘On balance, I would advise caution. Of course, the decision is yours. But as I have pointed out, Mrs Grant, that could
end up costing you a great deal of money, with no guarantee of any return.’

‘If that bitch ends up bankrupt, humiliated and having to face a spell in prison, it will have been worth every penny.’

Harry and Emma joined Giles and Karin for a fortnight at Mulgelrie Castle, their maternal grandfather’s family home in Scotland, and whenever the phone rang, it was almost
always for Emma, and when red boxes arrived, Giles had to get used to not opening them.

Her brother was able to advise the fledgling minister on how to deal with civil servants who seemed to have forgotten she was on holiday, and political journalists who were desperate for an
August story while the House wasn’t sitting. And whenever they took a stroll on the grouse moors together, Giles answered all his sister’s myriad questions, sharing with her his years
of experience as a minister in the Lords, so that by the time she returned to London, Emma felt she hadn’t so much had a holiday as attended several advanced seminars on government.

After Emma and Harry had departed, Giles and Karin stayed on for another couple of weeks. Giles had something else he needed to do before he attended the party conference in Brighton.

‘Thank you for agreeing to see me, Archie.’

‘My pleasure,’ said the tenth Earl of Fenwick. ‘I will never forget your kindness when I took my father’s seat in the House and made my maiden speech.’

‘It was very well received,’ said Giles. ‘Even though you did attack the government.’

‘And I intend to be equally critical of the Conservatives, if their farming policy is as antiquarian as yours. But tell me, Giles, to what do I owe this honour, because you’ve never
struck me as a man who has time to waste.’

‘I confess,’ said Giles as Archie handed him a large glass of whisky, ‘that I’m a seeker after information concerning a family matter.’

‘It wouldn’t be your ex-wife Virginia you’re curious about, by any chance?’

‘Got it in one. I was rather hoping you could bring me up to date on what your sister’s been doing lately. I’ll explain why later.’

‘I only wish I could,’ said Archie, ‘but I can’t pretend we’re that close. The only thing I know for sure is that Virginia’s penniless once again, even though
I have abided by the terms of my father’s will, and continued to supply her with a monthly allowance. But it won’t be nearly enough to deal with her present problems.’

Giles sipped his whisky. ‘Could one of the problems be the Hon. Freddie Fenwick?’

Archie didn’t reply immediately. ‘One thing we now know for certain,’ he eventually said, ‘is that Freddie is not Virginia’s son and, perhaps more interestingly, my
father must have known that long before he left her only one bequest in his will.’

‘The bottle of Maker’s Mark,’ said Giles.

‘Yes. That had me puzzled for some time,’ admitted Archie, ‘until I had a visit from a Mrs Ellie May Grant of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, who explained that it was her husband
Cyrus’s favourite brand of whisky. She then told me in great detail what had taken place on her husband’s visit to London when he had the misfortune to encounter Virginia. But I’m
still in the dark as to how she got away with it for so long.’

‘Then let me add what I know, courtesy of the Honorable Hayden Rankin, Governor of Louisiana, and an old friend of Cyrus T. Grant III. It seems that while Cyrus was on his first and last
trip to London, Virginia set up an elaborate scam to convince him that he had proposed to her, despite the fact he already had plans to marry someone else – Ellie May, in fact. She then duped
the foolish man into believing she was pregnant, and he was the father. That’s about everything I know.’

‘I can add a little more,’ said Archie. ‘Mrs Grant informed me she had recently employed Virginia’s former butler and his wife, a Mr and Mrs Morton, who have signed an
affidavit confirming that Freddie was their child, which is the reason Virginia’s monthly payments from Cyrus suddenly dried up.’

‘No wonder she’s penniless. Is Freddie aware that the Mortons are in fact his parents?’

‘No, he’s never asked and I’ve never told him, as he clearly feels his parents abandoned him,’ said Archie. ‘And it gets worse. Mrs Grant has recently instructed
Lord Goodman to represent her in an attempt to get back every penny Cyrus parted with. And having had the pleasure of meeting the formidable Ellie May Grant, I can tell you my sister has finally
met her match.’

‘But how can Virginia possibly—’ Giles fell silent when the door swung open and a young boy burst in.

‘What have I told you about knocking, Freddie, especially when I have a guest with me.’

‘Sorry, sir,’ said Freddie, and quickly turned to leave.

‘Before you go, I’d like you to meet a great politician.’ Freddie turned back. ‘This is Lord Barrington, who until recently was leader of the House of Lords.’

‘How do you do, sir,’ said Freddie, thrusting out his hand. He stared at Giles for some time before he eventually said, ‘Aren’t you the man who was married to my
mother?’

‘Yes I am,’ said Giles. ‘And I’m delighted to meet you at last.’

‘But you’re not my father, are you?’ said Freddie, after another long pause.

‘No, I’m not.’

Freddie looked disappointed. ‘My uncle says you are a great politician, but isn’t it also true that you were once a great cricketer?’

‘Never great,’ said Giles, trying to lighten the mood. ‘And that was a long time ago.’

‘But you scored a century at Lord’s.’

‘Some still consider that my greatest achievement.’

‘One day I’m going to score a century at Lord’s,’ said Freddie.

‘I hope I’ll be present to witness it.’

‘You could come and watch me bat next Sunday. It’s the local derby, Castle versus the Village, and I’m going to score the winning run.’

‘Freddie, I don’t think—’

‘Sadly I have to be in Brighton for the Labour Party conference,’ said Giles. Freddie looked disappointed. ‘Though I must confess,’ Giles continued, ‘I’d far
rather be watching you play cricket than listening to endless speeches by trade union leaders who’ll be saying exactly the same thing as they said last year.’

‘Do you still play cricket, sir?’

‘Only when the Lords play the Commons and no one will notice how out of form I am.’

‘Form is temporary, class is permanent, my cricket master told me.’

‘That may be so,’ said Giles, ‘but I’m nearly sixty, and that’s my age, not my batting average.’

‘W. G. Grace played for England when he was over fifty, sir, so perhaps you’d consider turning out for us some time in the future?’

‘Freddie, you must remember that Lord Barrington is a very busy man.’

‘But not too busy to accept such a flattering offer.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Freddie. ‘I’ll send you the fixture list. Must leave you now,’ he added. ‘I have to work on the batting order with Mr Lawrie, our
butler, who’s also the Castle’s captain.’ Freddie dashed off before Giles had a chance to ask his next question.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Archie, after the door had closed, ‘but Freddie doesn’t seem to realize that other people just might have a life of their
own.’

‘Does he live here with you?’ asked Giles.

‘Only during the holidays, which I’m afraid isn’t ideal, because now my girls have grown up and left home he’s rather short of company. The nearest house is a couple of
miles away, and they don’t have any children. But despite Virginia abandoning the poor boy, he’s no financial burden, because my father left Freddie the Glen Fenwick Distillery, which
produces an annual income of just under a hundred thousand pounds, which he’ll inherit on his twenty-fifth birthday. In fact, that’s what you’re drinking,’ said Archie as he
topped Giles’s glass up, before adding, ‘But I’ve recently been warned by our lawyers that Virginia has her eyes on the distillery, and is taking advice on whether she can break
the terms of my father’s will.’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time she’s tried to do that,’ said Giles.

‘A
RE YOU NERVOUS
?’

‘You bet I am,’ admitted Emma. ‘It reminds me of my first day at school,’ she added, as she adjusted her long red robe.

‘There’s nothing to be nervous about,’ said Giles. ‘Just think of yourself as a Christian who’s about to enter the Colosseum at the time of Diocletian, with several
hundred starving lions waiting impatiently for their first meal in weeks.’

‘That hardly fills me with confidence,’ said Emma, as two doormen in court dress pulled open the west doors to allow the three peers to enter the chamber.

The Baroness Clifton of Chew Magna, in the county of Somerset, entered the chamber for the first time. On her right, also wearing a long red gown and carrying a tricorn hat, was Lord Belstead,
the leader of the House of Lords. On her left, Lord Barrington of Bristol Docklands, a former leader of the House. The first time in the long history of the Lords that a new member had been
supported by the leaders of the two main political parties.

As Emma walked on to the floor of the House, a thousand eyes stared at her, from both sides of the chamber. The three of them doffed their tricorn hats and bowed to their peers. They then
continued past the cross benches, packed with members who bore no allegiance to any political party, often referred to as the great and the good. They could be the deciding factor on any
contentious issue once they decided which lobby to cast their vote in, Giles had told her.

They proceeded along the government front bench until Lord Belstead reached the despatch box. The table clerk gave the new peer a warm smile, and handed her a card on which was printed the oath
of allegiance to the Crown.

Emma stared at the words she had already rehearsed in the bath that morning, during breakfast, in the car on the way to the Palace of Westminster and finally as she was being ‘fitted
up’ in the robing room. But suddenly it was no longer a rehearsal.