This Was A Man (26 page)

‘Let me try to understand what you are proposing, Lady Virginia,’ said Sir Edward Makepeace. ‘You want me to approach Cyrus T. Grant’s solicitors, and
suggest that instead of paying £100,000 a year for the next nine years, you would be willing to settle the action with a one-off payment of £500,000?’

‘In full and final settlement.’

‘I’ll get in touch with Lord Goodman and let you know what he thinks of your proposal.’

It took Cyrus T. Grant III a month before he agreed to settle his action with Virginia for £500,000 in full and final settlement, and only after being nagged constantly by
Ellie May.

‘As my grandfather used to say,’ she reminded him, ‘better a dollar in the bank than the promise of a dowry.’

Another month passed before Virginia received a bill from Sir Edward Makepeace, for £2,300, which she settled immediately, as she could never be sure when she might need his services
again.

One of the few letters she did open during the following weeks was from Coutts, informing her that her current account was still £41,000 in credit. Desmond Mellor was proving to be far
more lucrative dead than alive.

When the clocks went back an hour, and the temperature began to drop, Virginia’s thoughts turned to a winter vacation. She was finding it difficult to decide between a villa in the South
of France, or the royal suite at the Sandy Lane hotel in Barbados. Perhaps she’d let the young man she’d recently met in Annabel’s decide which he would prefer. She was thinking
about Alberto, when she opened another letter which quickly removed any thought of holidays from her mind. After Virginia had recovered from the shock, she looked up the number of her bank manager
and made an appointment to see Mr Leigh the following day.

‘One hundred and eighty-five thousand pounds?’ protested Virginia.

‘That is correct, my lady,’ said Mr Leigh, once he’d read the letter from HM Inspector of Taxes.

‘But how can that be possible?’

‘I presume you’re familiar with capital gains tax, my lady?’

‘Familiar, yes, but we’ve never been introduced.’

‘Well, I fear you are about to be,’ said Leigh, ‘because the taxman is demanding thirty per cent of the £230,000 profit you made from the sale of the Lowrys, the
£300,000 commission, and the £25,000 fee you were paid following the successful takeover of Mellor Travel.’

‘But doesn’t the taxman realize I haven’t got £185,000? I parted with almost every penny to clear my debt with Cyrus.’

‘HM’s Inspector of Taxes is blind to any personal problems you might have,’ Mr Leigh pointed out unhelpfully. ‘They are only aware of your earnings, not how much you
spend.’

‘What will happen if I don’t reply to their letter?’

‘If you fail to respond within thirty days, they will start charging you a punitive interest rate until you do.’

‘And if I can’t?’

‘They will take you to court, have you declared bankrupt and confiscate all your assets.’

‘Who would have thought,’ said Virginia, ‘the taxman would turn out to be an even worse bitch than Ellie May Grant.’

Virginia knew the one person who could be relied on to solve her problem with the taxman, and although she hadn’t been in touch with her for several months –
‘Pressure of work,’ she would explain – she didn’t think it would be difficult to convince Kelly to invest a couple of hundred thousand in a deal that couldn’t
fail.

Once she had arrived home following her meeting with Mr Leigh, Virginia spent some time searching for the letter Kelly had sent some weeks earlier, which she now regretted not replying to.
Still, she thought, looking at the address on top of the notepaper, all the more reason to pay a surprise visit to The Little Gables, Lodge Lane, Nailsea, near Bristol.

The following morning Virginia rose before the sun, an unusual occurrence, but in truth she hadn’t been able to sleep. She set off for the West Country just after nine a.m., and used the
long drive to rehearse the lines about a once-in-a-lifetime investment opportunity that Kelly would be foolish not to take advantage of.

She passed a sign for Nailsea just before midday, and stopped to ask an elderly gentleman the way to Lodge Lane. As she drew up outside The Little Gables her heart sank when she spotted a For
Sale sign on the front lawn. Virginia assumed Kelly must be moving to a bigger house. She walked up the driveway and knocked on the front door. A few moments later it was opened by a young man who
gave her an expectant smile.

‘Mrs Campion?’

‘No, I am not Mrs Campion. I’m the Lady Virginia Fenwick.’

‘I apologize, Lady Fenwick.’

‘I’m also not Lady Fenwick. I am the daughter of an earl, not the wife of a life peer. You may address me as Lady Virginia.’

‘Of course,’ he said, and apologized a second time. ‘How can I help you, Lady Virginia?’

‘You can start by telling me who you are.’

‘My name is Neil Osborne and I’m the estate agent in charge of the sale of this property. Are you an interested party?’

‘Certainly not. I am simply visiting my old friend Kelly Mellor. Does she still live here?’

‘No, she moved out soon after instructing us to put the house back on the market.’

‘Has she moved somewhere locally?’

‘Perth.’

‘In Scotland?’

‘No, Australia.’ That silenced Virginia for a moment, and allowed the young man to complete a second sentence. ‘All I can tell you, Lady Virginia, is that Kelly instructed us
to send the proceeds of the sale to a joint bank account in Perth.’

‘A joint bank account?’

‘Yes, I only met Barry once, quite soon after they became engaged. He seemed a nice enough fellow,’ Osborne added as he looked over Virginia’s shoulder. ‘Are you Mr and
Mrs Campion?’ he asked a young couple who were walking up the driveway.

When Virginia received a second letter from HM Inspector of Taxes, she realized there was only one person left she could turn to, although he wasn’t someone who would
believe a story about an investment that couldn’t fail.

She chose a weekend when the Hon. Freddie Fenwick would be at boarding school, and her sister-in-law, a woman Virginia had never much cared for, and she suspected the feeling was mutual, would
be visiting an elderly aunt in Dumfries.

Virginia didn’t take the sleeper, a misnomer in her opinion, because she could never manage more than an hour’s sleep while the carriage rattled over the points. Instead, she opted
to travel up to Scotland during the day, which would give her more than enough time to go over her plan, and prepare for any awkward questions her brother might come up with. After all, when
she’d rung him to say she wanted his advice and needed to see him urgently, she knew he would assume that ‘advice’ was another misnomer, although she accepted that he might
consider £185,000 a bit steep, unless he was willing to support her claim that . . .

Archie sent the car, if you could call a clapped-out 1975 Vauxhall estate a car, to pick her up when she arrived at Edinburgh Waverley. Her ladyship was driven to Fenwick Hall accompanied only
by the smell of Labradors and spent cartridges, without once addressing the chauffeur.

As the butler accompanied Lady Virginia to the guest bedroom, he informed her that his lordship was out shooting but was expected back in time for dinner. Virginia took her time unpacking,
something that would have been done by a lady’s maid in her father’s day, followed by a soak in a warm bath that she’d had to run herself. After dressing for dinner, she sharpened
her nails in preparation for the encounter.

Dinner passed smoothly enough, but then they didn’t discuss anything consequential until after coffee had been served and the servants had retired.

‘I’m pretty sure you didn’t come all this way simply to find out how the family are, Virginia,’ said Archie after pouring himself a brandy. ‘So tell me,
what’s the real reason for your visit?’

Virginia put down her coffee cup, took a deep breath, and said, ‘I’m giving serious consideration to challenging father’s will.’ After she had delivered her well-prepared
opening salvo, it was clear from the expression on her brother’s face that he wasn’t surprised.

‘On what grounds?’ he asked calmly.

‘On the grounds that father had promised to leave the Glen Fenwick Distillery to me, along with its annual profits of around £100,000 a year, which would have allowed me to live
comfortably for the rest of my days.’

‘But as you well know, Virginia, in his will Father left the distillery to Freddie, whom you abandoned several years ago, leaving me with the responsibility of bringing your son
up.’

‘He isn’t my son, as you well know. He’s no more than the offspring of my former butler and his wife. So he has absolutely no claim on father’s estate.’

Virginia eyed her brother, waiting to see how he would react to this bombshell, but once again, not a flicker of surprise furrowed his brow.

Archie bent down and stroked Wellington, who was sleeping by his side. ‘Not only am I well aware that Freddie isn’t your son, but it was confirmed beyond doubt following a visit from
Mrs Ellie May Grant, who told me in great detail about the charade you set up when her fiancé was staying at the Ritz some years ago, and your subsequent claim that you were pregnant and
that Cyrus was Freddie’s father.’