‘Gradman! I don’t like the condition of the country; there are a lot of people about without any common sense. I want to find a way by which I can safeguard Miss Fleur against anything which might arise.’
Gradman wrote the figure ‘2’ on his blotting-paper.
‘Ye-es,’ he said; ‘there’s a nahsty spirit.’
‘The ordinary restraint against anticipation doesn’t meet the case.’
‘Nao,’ said Gradman.
‘Suppose those Labour fellows come in, or worse! It’s these people with fixed ideas who are the danger. Look at Ireland!’
‘Ah!’ said Gradman.
‘Suppose I were to make a settlement on her at once with myself as beneficiary for life, they couldn’t take anything but the interest from me, unless of course they alter the law.’
Gradman moved his head and smiled.
‘Aoh!’ he said, ‘they wouldn’t do tha-at!’
‘I don’t know,’ muttered Soames; ‘I don’t trust them.’
‘It’ll take two years, sir, to be valid against death duties.’
Soames sniffed. Two years! He was only sixty-five!
‘That’s not the point. Draw a form of settlement that passes all my property to Miss Fleur’s children in equal shares, with antecedent life-interests first to myself and then to her without power of anticipation, and add a clause that in the event of anything happening to divert her life-interest, that interest passes to the trustees, to apply for her benefit, in their absolute discretion.’
Gradman grated: ‘Rather extreme at your age, sir; you lose control.’
‘That’s my business,’ said Soames, sharply.
Gradman wrote on a piece of paper: ‘Life-interest – anticipation – divert interest – absolute discretion…’ and said.
‘What trustees? There’s young Mr Kingson; he’s a nice steady young fellow.’
‘Yes, he might do for one. I must have three. There isn’t a Forsyte now who appeals to me.’
‘Not young Mr Nicholas? He’s at the Bar. We’ve given ‘im briefs.’
‘He’ll never set the Thames on fire,’ said Soames.
A smile oozed out on Gradman’s face, greasy with countless mutton-chops, the smile of a man who sits all day.
‘You can’t expect it, at his age, Mr Soames.’
‘Why? What is he? Forty?’
‘Ye-es, quite a young fellow.’
‘Well, put him in; but I want somebody who’ll take a personal interest. There’s no one that I can see.’
‘What about Mr Valerius, now he’s come home?’
‘Val Dartie? With that father?’
‘We-ell,’ murmured Gradman, ‘he’s been dead seven years – the Statute runs against him.’
‘No,’ said Soames. ‘I don’t like the connexion.’ He rose. Gradman said suddenly:
‘If they were making a levy on capital, they could come on the trustees, sir. So there you’d be just the same. I’d think it over, if I were you.’
‘That’s true,’ said Soames, ‘I will. What have you done about that dilapidation notice in Vere Street?’
‘I ‘aven’t served it yet. The party’s very old. She won’t want to go out at her age.’
‘I don’t know. This spirit of unrest touches every one.’
‘Still, I’m lookin’ at things broadly, sir. She’s eighty-one.’
‘Better serve it,’ said Soames, ‘and see what she says. Oh! and Mr Timothy? Is everything in order in case of –’
I’ve got the inventory of his estate all ready; had the furniture and pictures valued so that we know what reserves to put on. I shall be sorry when he goes, though. Dear me! It is a time since I first saw Mr Timothy!’
‘We can’t live for ever,’ said Soames, taking down his hat.
‘Nao,’ said Gradman; ‘but it’ll be a pity – the last of the old family! Shall I take up the matter of that nuisance in Old Compton Street? Those organs – they’re nahsty things.’
‘Do. I must call for Miss Fleur and catch the four o’clock. Good day, Gradman.’
‘Good day, Mr Soames. I hope Miss Fleur –’
‘Well enough, but gads about too much.’
‘Ye-es,’ grated Gradman; ‘she’s young.’
Soames went out, musing: ‘Old Gradman! If he were younger I’d put him in the trust. There’s nobody I can depend on to take a real interest.’
Leaving the bilious and mathematical exactitude, the preposterous peace of that backwater, he thought suddenly: ‘During coverture! Why can’t they exclude fellows like Profond, instead of a lot of hard-working Germans?’ and was surprised at the depth of uneasiness which could provoke so unpatriotic a thought. But there it was! One never got a moment of real peace. There was always something at the back of everything! And he made his way toward Green Street.