A FAMILY AFFAIR    (Part 3 & Last)   

 by Richard Banks

         ……... so tell me their precise whereabouts and I will guarantee that what should happen, does happen.” 

                                              *****

         It was not until the following day when everyone was taking lunch that I made my way to the library where the necklaces awaited me in a secret compartment behind Gibbon’s Rise and Fall on the top shelf of the main bookcase. I was pushing the steps towards said volume when a polite cough signalled that I was not alone. Aunt Flora smiled benignly and bid me join her at one of the occasional tables where readers were expected to quietly read or write their letters. As she was doing neither a sinking feeling told me that this meeting was unlikely to be a chance encounter. Nevertheless, I turned on my own smile and with a display of untroubled innocence pretended to be glad to see her.

         “How’s that migraine?” she asked, “better now? No, don’t answer, I know what you’ve been up to. You see after your séance last night Hector also paid me a visit. He wanted me to tell you what he was too embarrassed to tell you himself, a secret that no man would want known, especially one so proud and manly as himself. You see, Hector was not capable of having children. He had all the usual urges and gave great satisfaction to his many lady friends of which I gather you were one, but to use a vulgar metaphor he was shooting blanks. Of course, he wanted to believe that he was the father of your child, you almost convinced him that he was, then he saw the name of the clinic on the papers you showed him and knew, at once, that you were attempting to deceive him. You see the clinic there named was the very one that had told him he was sterile. There was a biological abnormality they were unable to reverse; an honest admission considering they had many expensive treatments that a less ethical establishment might have offered him. So, that raises the question of how you are in possession of a medical document indicating that your son and Hector’s nephew are of the same lineage. Do you have anything to say on that subject?”

         I did not. There are times when silence is by far the best defence, sometimes the only defence, no one has ever been found guilty by their silence. Anyway, why tell Aunt Flora what she may not know? I shrugged my shoulders and tried to look bemused.

         “Come on, my dear has no one told you that confession is good for the soul - if you have one?  Well, allow me to do your confessing for you. Professor Earnshaw, of the clinic in question, is a personal friend of both Hector and myself. That’s why we choose to go there for the tests that diagnosed his condition. I spoke to him on the telephone this morning after breakfast and he assured me that they have undertaken no tests, of any kind, at your request. He tells me that the document in your possession can only be the work of a scammer on the black web. Let’s hope that he or she will soon be apprehended, although I fear that when that happens it may well have unfortunate repercussions for yourself. Anyway, forewarned is forearmed, as they say, so come the time you will, no doubt, find much to say in your defence. What I will say, if asked, I’m less than sure. Needless to say, if I should maintain my right to silence it won’t be because of any loyalty I feel for you.

         What a lot of fuss and bother you have put yourself to, and all so unnecessary. You have been looking for something that doesn’t exist. There are no diamond necklaces, never have been.   Lord knows who started that silly rumour. It wasn’t me or Hector but once it got into Society Magazine we realised that it was only good news for our attempts to market Brookvale as an events venue. Of course, we never said or hinted that the rumours might be true, but we didn’t need to. Our refusal to say anything on the subject was taken as proof positive that the so-called treasure existed. As for what your Uncle told you, don’t believe a word of it, that was your cum-up-pence for trying to deceive him; no doubt he was hoping you would fall off the steps and do yourself a mischief.”

         “But what about the receipt you found for the purchase of the necklaces?”

         “A rumour on a rumour. There was no receipt. I never said there was. So, my dear, there you have it, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, none of which is going to do you one jot of good. Indeed, if I choose to alert the authorities to your little deception you could be facing serious criminal charges especially if I show them the forged papers I took from your room during breakfast. So, let us come to an understanding, you will say nothing likely to embarrass your dear uncle and in return, the document you commissioned will never see the light of day. As for the necklaces, you can say what you will. After all who is going to believe you if I say otherwise? You really are an unprincipled little vixen good for nothing but intrigue, mischief and an extraordinary capacity for extracting money from the many men of your acquaintance. And, although it pains me to say so, you are just what Brookvale needs. So, what I suggest is that you divorce that apology of a husband and marry Eric.”

         “No, no Aunt, stop there! That’s preposterous, Eric is as poor as a church mouse and when he inherits this place he will be over his head in debt.”

         “Yes, my dear, but remember by then you will have received a substantial divorce settlement, which when added to the large sums you have already ferreted away in offshore accounts will keep the tax man at bay for several years at least. By then your deviously inventive mind will have sniffed out no end of money-making opportunities. Also, bear in mind that your elevation to the peerage will give you access to a more exhorted rank of married men – Earls, Dukes, even the odd Prince or two. What an opportunity they represent, indeed so many opportunities. It’s big money now, especially when your noble friends want their names kept out of the tabloids. Plenty for you, and plenty more to spend on Brookvale; after all, you will now have a position in society to maintain, Brookvale must be restored and improved. This you will do not only for yourself but for the child that you and Eric will be having in blessed wedlock. Oh my goodness you have so much to do. It’s just like Scarlet O’Hara and that plantation in Georgia. What an inspiration she is, and you, my dear, will do even better, it’s as good as written.”

         “Only if I write it, Aunt. Supposing I have a script of my own?”

         “No, dear, that won’t do at all. Do you believe in ghosts? Of course, you do, you’ve already met one, but in addition to your Uncle, these walls are home to another three Lords of Brookvale. Let me tell you about them. They’re not very nice. First of all, there’s Hugo the Terrible who chroniclers tell us turned the moat of his castle red with the blood of a thousand foes. Well, no doubt some exaggeration there, but an awful lot of bones have been discovered. Then there’s Maurice the Torturer – need I say more – and, most recently, Sir Jasper of the Hellfire Club who was hanged at Tyburn for eating his mother-in-law during Lent. All of them agree with me that Brookvale must be saved and that it is you who must do it. Should you not comply with their wishes they will, I promise, take it, in turn, to haunt you every night for the rest of your life. It doesn’t matter where you go they will follow and make your life an utter misery. So, my dear, you really have no choice, and why should you want one when the alternative has so much to offer?

         Now let us be off and join the diners for their liqueurs and coffees. Eric will be there, awkwardly adrift as always, hoping against hope that someone is going to talk to him. What better time than now for you to seek him out and begin the whirlwind romance that’s going to change both of your lives? Are you ready? Of course, you are, my little Scarlet. The prologue’s over and chapter one is about to begin, the empty pages ready to fill with all the things that you must do. What a wonderful story it will be!”

         “But,” I said. But this was no time for buts. A bewigged man was advancing towards me with a blood-stained saw. Aunt Flora, who was now on her feet, acknowledged him with a polite but affectionless smile. I sprang to her side and together we made our way, unmolested, to the Dining Room and the reassuring sight of Aunt Flora’s other guests. I looked across the room at Eric and he at me. He was smitten, and I desperate not to disappoint those who demanded I succeed. Chapter 1 was up and running. There would be many more to come...

 

The End.

 

Copyright Richard Banks