Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles, #3)(38)

‘I was twelve when I first met her at a tea party to celebrate Giles’s birthday, so I knew her for almost twenty years.’

‘That does not answer my question,’ pressed the judge.

‘I considered Elizabeth a dear and close friend, and I mourn her untimely death as deeply as anyone in this room. She was a truly remarkable woman, and if she had been born a generation later, the board of Barrington’s shipping line wouldn’t have had to look outside the family for a new chairman when her husband died.’

‘Thank you,’ said the judge. ‘And now I would like to ask you about this envelope,’ he said, holding it up for all to see, ‘and how it came into your possession.’

‘I went to see Elizabeth in hospital most evenings. My final visit took place on what turned out to be the last night of her life.’

‘You were alone with her?’

‘Yes, sir. Her daughter Grace had just left.’

‘Please tell the court what happened.’

‘Elizabeth told me that earlier in the day she’d had a visit from her solicitor, Mr Siddons, and had signed a new will.’

‘We’re talking about the evening of Thursday July twenty-sixth?’

‘Yes, sir, just a few hours before Elizabeth died.’

‘Could you tell the court what else happened during that visit?’

‘She surprised me by taking a sealed envelope from under her pillow which she gave me for safe keeping.’

‘Did she explain why she was giving it to you?’

‘She only said that if Giles were to contest her new will, I was to hand the letter to the judge selected to preside over the case.’

‘Did she give you any other instructions?’

‘She said I was not to open the envelope or to let Giles or my wife know of its existence.’

‘And if Sir Giles did not contest the will?’

‘I was to destroy it, with the same instructions not to reveal it had ever existed.’

‘So you have no idea what is in this envelope, Mr Clifton?’ said the judge, holding it up.

‘None whatsoever.’

‘And we’re expected to believe that,’ said Virginia, loud enough for everyone to hear.

‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ said the judge, ignoring the interruption. ‘I have no more questions for you, Mr Clifton. Mr Todd?’

‘Thank you, m’lud,’ said Mr Todd, rising from his place. ‘You told his lordship, Mr Clifton, that Lady Barrington said she’d written a new will. Did she give you any reason why she had done so?’

‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Elizabeth loved her son, but she told me she feared if he were to marry that dreadful woman Lady Virginia—’

‘M’lud,’ said Sir Cuthbert, leaping up from his place. ‘This is hearsay, and clearly inadmissible.’

‘I agree. It will be struck from the record.’

‘But, m’lud,’ intervened Mr Todd, ‘the fact that Lady Barrington left her Siamese cat, Cleopatra, to Lady Virginia rather suggests—’

‘You have made your point, Mr Todd,’ said the judge. ‘Sir Cuthbert, do you have any questions for this witness?’

‘Only one, m’lud.’ Looking directly at Harry, Sir Cuthbert asked, ‘Were you a beneficiary of the earlier will?’

‘No, sir, I was not.’

‘I have no more questions for Mr Clifton, m’lud. But I would beg the court’s indulgence and ask that before you decide whether or not the letter should be opened, I might be allowed to call one witness.’

‘Who do you have in mind, Sir Cuthbert?’ enquired the judge.

‘The person who stands to lose the most should your judgment go against him, namely Sir Giles Barrington.’

‘I have no objection, assuming Mr Todd is in agreement.’

‘I welcome it,’ said Todd, aware that nothing would be gained by objecting.

Giles made his way slowly to the witness box, and delivered the oath as if he was addressing the House of Commons. Sir Cuthbert greeted him with a warm smile.

‘For the record, will you please state your name and occupation?’

‘Sir Giles Barrington, Member of Parliament for Bristol Docklands.’

‘And when did you last see your mother?’ asked Sir Cuthbert.

The judge smiled.

‘I visited her on the morning of the day she died.’

‘Did she make any mention of the fact that she had changed her will?’

‘None whatsoever.’

‘So when you left her, you were under the impression that there was only one will, the one you had discussed with her in great detail over a year before?’

‘Frankly, Sir Cuthbert, my mother’s will was the last thing on my mind at that particular moment.’

‘Quite so. But I do need to ask in what state of health you found your mother that morning.’

‘She was very weak. Barely a word passed between us during the hour I spent with her.’

‘So it must have come as a surprise to learn that shortly after you had left, she put her signature to a complex document some thirty-six pages in length.’

‘I found it inconceivable,’ said Giles, ‘and still do.’