After the delicious chicken soup, and plenty of cold viands
accompanied by an excellent chablis, the funeral atmosphere lightened.
Nobody had really felt any deep grief for Richard Abernethie's death
since none of them had had any close ties with him. Their behaviour had
been suitably decorous and subdued (with the exception of the
uninhibited Cora who was clearly enjoying herself) but it was now felt
that the decencies had been observed and that normal conversation could
be resumed. Mr Entwhistle encouraged this attitude. He was experienced
in funerals and knew exactly how to set correct funeral timing.
After the meal was over, Lanscombe indicated the library for
coffee. This was his feeling for niceties. The time had come when
business in other words, The Will - would be discussed. The library had
the proper atmosphere for that with its bookshelves and its heavy red
velvet curtains. He served coffee to them there and then withdrew,
closing the door.
After a few desultory remarks, everyone began to look tentatively
at Mr Entwhistle. He responded promptly after glancing at his watch.
"I have to catch the 3.30 train," he began.
Others, it seemed, also had to catch that train.
"As you know," said Mr Entwhistle, "I am the executor of Richard Abernethie's will -"
He was interrupted.
"I didn't know," said Cora Lansquenet brightly. "Are you? Did he leave me anything?"
Not for the first time, Mr Entwhistle felt that Cora was too apt to speak out of turn.
Bending a repressive glance at her he continued:
"Up to a year ago, Richard Abernethie's will was very simple.
Subject to certain legacies he left everything to his son Mortimer."
"Poor Mortimer," said Cora. "I do think all this infantile paralysis is dreadful."
"Mortimer's death, coming so suddenly and tragically, was a great
blow to Richard. It took him some months to rally from it. I pointed out
to him that it might be advisable for him to make new testamentary
dispositions."
Maude Abernethie asked in her deep voice:
"What would have happened if he hadn't made a new will? Would it -
would it all have gone to Timothy - as the next of kin, I mean?"
Mr Entwhistle opened his month to give a disquisition on the subject of next of kin, thought better of it, and said crisply:
"On my advice, Richard decided to make a new will. First of all,
however, he decided to get better acquainted with the younger
generation."
"He had us upon appro," said Susan with a sudden rich laugh. "First George and then Greg and then Rosamund and Michael."
Gregory, Banks said sharply, his thin face flushing:
"I don t think you ought to put it like that, Susan. On appro, indeed!"
"But that was what it was, wasn't it, Mr Entwhistle?"
"Did he leave me anything?" repeated Cora.
Mr Entwhistle coughed and spoke rather coldly:
"I propose to send you all copies of the will. I can read it to you
in full now if you like but its legal phraseology may seem to you
rather obscure. Briefly it amounts to this: After certain small bequests
and a substantial legacy to Lanscombe to purchase an annuity, the bulk
of the estate - a very considerable one - is to be divided into six
equal portions. Four of these, after all duties are paid, are to go to
Richard's brother Timothy, his nephew George Crossfield, his niece Susan
Banks, and his niece Rosamund Shane. The other two portions are to be
held upon trust and the income from them paid to Mrs Helen Abernethie,
the widow of his brother Leo; and to his sister Mrs Cora Lansquenet,
during their lifetime. The capital after their death to be divided
between the other four beneficiaries or their issue."
