Masquerade. Part 16

"Don't be crude!"

"That's not crude. It's true. What did you think I meant by bur brief conversation in the hall?"

"I... I can't imagine."

"Judging from your expression, I would say you had a very vivid imagination," he said bluntly. "Good G.o.d, Samantha, what do you take me for?"

Samantha compressed her lips for a moment. "I ... I don't see that it matters what I think," she replied. "But I would like to know what you meant by that remark about my coming to London with you."

Patrick's fingers tightened on the wheel.

"You ask me that!"

"Why not? How am I to know what goes on in your head?"

Patrick looked absolutely furious and Samantha felt herself begin to tremble. He halted the car at the front door and looked at her with angry sparks darting in the tawny depths of his eyes.

"Get out," he said coldly.

Samantha complied, and glanced back at him. He re mained where he was in the car and with shaking legs she mounted the steps to the door. What had she done now? Where was it all going to end?

CHAPTER VII.

The lunch was over and Mr. Bolam requested that Bar bara, Samantha and Emily should accompany him to the library.

Samantha, unused to the fact that wills were often read after funerals, asked why she should be invited. She could not, in all honesty, see what Mr. Bolam had to say to her now which he could not have said when they were talk ing together this morning.

"Your mother, yourself and Emily are the three chief beneficiaries under your grandmother's will," said Mr. Bolam solemnly. "Have you never been present at the read ing of a will before?"

Samantha shook her head.

"Come along then. Let's waste no time. Miss Harriet!"

The preliminaries were brief and to the point. All Lady Davenport's staff were provided with small bequests of a hundred pounds and as there were quite a number of staff at Daven, Samantha was amazed. She remembered her grandmother's words when she first arrived in England when Lady Davenport had said that she had only been provided with an adequate income by her late husband and that Barbara controlled the remainder. How then could she afford to be so generous and provide such legacies for these people?

Emily was the first of the three of them to be men tioned.

She was provided with a thousand pounds, plus an income of five hundred pounds a year until she died.

"To make her independent," were Lady Davenport's exact words, and Emily was overcome by emotion and sought about blindly in her handbag for a handkerchief. She was deeply moved by this expression of thanks for her faithful service and Samantha, who had also a grow ing affection for the elderly woman, smiled warmly at her. Barbara gave no indication of her feelings in the matter, apart from a rather patronizing glance in Emily's direc tion.

To Barbara's astonishment, she was next on the list. She leant forward in her seat, her eyes narrowed, and Sam antha wondered what Mr. Bolam thought of her avid curi osity.

"To my daughter, Barbara, who already has so much-, I bequeath a legacy of ten thousand pounds, most of it al ready vested in shares...." Barbara gave a shocked gasp and Mr.

Bolam went on "... and the family jewellery, which will realize a quite considerable amount should she ever have need to sell any of it. My only withdrawal from this is that Samantha should have the pearls which were my mother's, on her wedding day."

Barbara had risen from her seat now and stared disbelievingly at the solicitor.

"Is that all?" she exclaimed angrily.

"I believe so." Mr. Bolam scanned the will. "Yes, Miss Harriet. That is all, so far as you are concerned."

"But this is ludicrous," she cried impotently. "It can't be right. What about Daven? ... the estate? .. this house?"

"If you care to wait a few moments longer I will con tinue,"

said Mr. Bolam, eyeing her sternly. "May I go on?"

Barbara nodded her head violently, and slumped back in her seat. She lit a cigarette with fingers which were not quite steady and then waited for the next p.r.o.nouncement.

Samantha herself was trembling. What did this all mean? It was all Greek to her. After all her grandmother had said, could Barbara not hold the purse strings?

Mr. Bolam gave Barbara a further cold, disapproving glance, and then resumed his reading of the doc.u.ment.

"And finally, to my granddaughter Samantha I bequeath the remainder of my estate, including Daven House and its adjoining properties."

Now Samantha gasped. Surely she must be dreaming! It just was not possible! Daven was hers!

Mr. Bolam's voice went on: "I have left Samantha the house and the income with which to maintain it because she has no other home now that her father is dead. Should Barbara marry again I am sure she will prefer to have her daughter independent of her."

"She must have been mad!" exclaimed Barbara sav agely, rising to her feet again. "It can't be true! Why, she didn't even know Samantha was coming until a few weeks ago."

"No, I agree," replied Mr. Bolam. "At least in part. She did not know Samantha was to be here, but when she did she came to see me. While she was in London in fact. Only a few days before she died she altered her will in Miss Kingsley's favour."

Barbara crushed out her cigarette with brittle move ments.

She was clearly fighting a losing battle with her temper and Samantha, too astounded to speak, was un able to take any part in the conversation.

It was all so fantastic that as Barbara said it could not be true. That she should own a place as large and imposing as Daven was utterly incredible.

Mr. Bolam looked at Samantha, ignoring Barbara's out burst for a moment. "There is also a letter for you, my dear," he said, kindly, taking an envelope from his brief case. "Your grandmother asked me to give it to you on her death. I believe there is some sort of explanation inside."

"What does she need explaining?" ground out Barbara, rudely. "It's I who deserve an explanation for all this. Of all the underhand things to happen, this is absolutely unique!"

"Unfortunately I have no letter to give you," said Mr.

Bolam, smoothly. "And besides, Miss Harriet, if you don't mind my saying so, you have been very adequately provi ded for. You never did like Daven. Your mother told me so many times."

"I do mind you saying so," retorted Barbara, all thoughts of ladylike behaviour blowing out of the win dow. "I think it's absolutely appalling. That that crea ture ..." she pointed at Samantha ... "should walk in here and take over... "

"That 'creature', as you so impolitely put it, is your own daughter," exclaimed Emily, speaking for the first time.

"You keep out of this, you old harridan!" exclaimed Barbara, venting her wrath on Emily now. "Creeping round Mother, trying to ingratiate yourself with her, mak ing her rely on you utterly. Don't think I don't know what you've been doing...."

"Enough!" Mr. Bolam rose to his feet holding up his hand.

"Miss Harriet, you forget yourself. Your words are slanderous, I hope you are aware. If Miss Lawson wishes to..."

"Oh, shut up! All of you!" Barbara's face was ugly. "I intend to contest this. Don't think I'll let it end here!"

"If you do, you'l be stirring up a pretty mess of pub licity for yourself," said Mr. Bolam, angry himself now. "The papers will make a field day out of it. 'Mother con tests will because daughter is chief beneficiary'."

Barbara was shaking with fury, impotent fury. "You make me sick! The lot of you!"

"Please be quiet! Mr. Bolam controlled his own anger.

"Samantha, my dear, here is your letter."

"Thank you." Samantha managed to articulate the word, and took the letter from him. She opened it with trembling fingers, watched by her mother who looked as though she was about to wrench it from her hand by force and so learn its contents.

The letter began: "My dear Samantha, I must first of all ask you to forgive me for the rank untruths I told you on your arrival in this country. It was imperative that you remain here, on Barbara's terms, and there was no other way that I could see to persuade you, except by placing my future in your hands.

You proved to be your father's daughter in this, and I loved you for it. But as things are now I can provide you with a home you never expected, and I hope it will make up to you in some part for the terrible way you have been treated by this family.

Don't let Barbara intimidate you. I am sure she will do so when she learns the contents of this will, for al though she never desired to live at Daven, she knew its worth in a monetary way.

Now, you hold the cards. Daven is yours. No one can take it away from you. You can live there, or use it whenever you wish. You are virtually an heiress and need never scrimp and save again. You can visit your beloved Italy whenever you wish and always have a home in this country to come back to. Maybe one day, you will meet someone with whom you can share your life and maybe you will live at least part of the year at Daven. It would be good to think the old house will ring again with the sound of children's voices, and all the rooms be opened up instead of sleep ing away the years like museum pieces."

Samantha turned to the second page and Barbara strode back and forth across the room.

"Well!" she said. "What does it say? Some sentimental drivel, I've no doubt."

Samantha looked up at her, for once immune from her jibes.

"Yes, it is sentimental," she said. "But it's not drivel. It's wonderful. I'll treasure this all my life."

"Rubbis.h.!.+" Barbara picked up her handbag. She turned to Mr. Bolam. "I presume I'm free to go."

"I don't see why not." In truth Mr. Bolam wished she would.

"Good." Barbara walked to the door. She looked back at the three of them malevolently. "You make me sick!" she said again, and went out, closing the door with a bang.

Mr. Bolam cleared his throat after she had left and Emily stood up, nervously.

"I'd better go, too," she said. "I have to organize the clearing up, you understand?"

"Of course." Samantha rose also, and went over to Emily.

"Don't take any notice of anything my mother said, Emily. She was tired and overwrought, and disap pointed, too," she added ruefully.

"That's all right, Miss Samantha," said Emily, smiling. "It's you I feel sorry for."

"Don't feel sorry for me. I can take care of myself," replied Samantha, with more confidence than she was feeling.

"Very well, miss. I'll see you later, then."

When Emily had gone, and Mr. Bolam was gathering his papers together, Samantha returned to her grand mother's letter.

Her mother's words had really not sur prised her as much as her grandmother's legacy. Barbara no longer shocked her that way, although the malicious anger she had seen in Barbara's face almost frightened her at times. Lady Davenport had been right.

When Bar bara was crossed she was terrible, indeed. The letter continued: "Mr. Bolam is my trusted friend as well as my solici tor and should you need any guidance in business mat ters he is the one to whom you should turn. Daven has been run by a competent manager these past twenty-five years or so. The manager, Jim Edwards, will give you any help you need in this direction.

I do hope you find life a little easier than I have done. You were right about my loving Barbara in spite of everything. She is avaricious and egotistical, I know, but she is my daughter and I am to blame.

Forgive me again, my dear, for deceiving you. At least it proved that you stayed for my sake arid for no other. I was grateful for the time we have had together.

Your loving grandmother, Lucia Davenport."

Samantha felt tears p.r.i.c.king at her eyes again, and blinked them back. Mr. Bolam was watching her and he said: "Well! I told you, you had no reason to worry."

Samantha smiled. "Yes, you did, didn't you? Does this really mean I can stay here as long as I like ? "

"Of course. This house and its grounds, the estate, it's all yours now. No one can take it away from you. You need not worry, you know. Your mother would not dare to risk the publicity of a court case contesting the will."

"I think she's a very frustrated woman."

"So do I! Mentally frustrated." Mr. Bolam bit his lip.

"Well, I suppose I will have to be getting back to town."

"Yes. Do you mind if I stay here for a While? I have so much to think about."

"Of course. I'll contact you within the next few days to explain the details."

"Thank you, Mr. Bolam, you've been very kind."

"Not at all It's my job."

Samantha smiled and shook hands with him. "All right, you have it your way. Thank you, anyway."

Mr. Bolam went out closing the door and Samantha, feeling weighted down by new responsibilities re-read her letter, trying to absorb all the things that had happened to her during the last hour. It still wouldn't sink in. It was entirely too overpowering for a girl who had never known what it was like to have more money than she knew what to do with.

She wondered what Patrick would say; what he would think.

Had he yet realized she had not been discourteous to him but that in her unsophisticated way she was trying to understand an enigma?

She prayed he would stay for dinner. Barbara was sure to invite him, and perhaps afterwards she might have an opportunity to speak alone with him. She wondered when Barbara would return to town. Would she stay on for a few days? Or would she want to get back to the social round.

As for herself, she had decided she would stay on here, at least for a while. It would give her the chance to relax, as she had not done since she arrived in London, and be herself again.