The Woman from Paris(21)
The rich red velvet curtains were tied back to let in the light, but it was still dim due to the old-fashioned decoration and heavy upholstery. It didn’t look as if the room had been changed for hundreds of years. The walls were papered in a deep crimson-and-gold pattern of exotic birds; a large gilt mirror hung above the marble fireplace, its glass stained with black spots caused by damp; and gloomy faces of the Frampton family ancestors stared down from oil-coated canvases. The ceiling was high, surrounded by a heavy, elaborate cornice, and in the center a crystal chandelier dominated and glittered like diamonds. Julius Beecher found the atmosphere in the room as heavy as the upholstered chairs and carpeting.
“Good morning, Lady Frampton,” he said. He noticed her face cloud with anxiety as she realized he had come on his own, and was quick to explain. “I’m afraid Miss Chancellor is unable to be with us today. I will act on her behalf.”
Antoinette was surprised by the depth of her disappointment. “Did she say why?”
Julius took the chair left for him at the head of the table: the chair where George always used to sit. “She was very grateful for your invitation, but she didn’t feel it necessary to come down personally.” He opened his briefcase. “To be frank, Lady Frampton, I think she’s embarrassed.”
Roberta smirked and caught her husband’s eye. David felt as disappointed as his mother did. He glanced at Tom, who simply pulled a face and shrugged. It didn’t matter to his younger brother one way or the other. To David, however, it mattered very much. He could safely assume that she wouldn’t accept the invitation to stay the weekend, either. He wondered despondently whether he’d ever see her again.
“So, shall we proceed?” said Julius, pulling out the folder and placing it neatly in front of him.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Antoinette offered.
“Yes, please. Black, no sugar.” He opened the velvet-lined box and lifted out one of two Montblanc pens, then, closing it carefully, moved it to one side so that it lay exactly parallel to the folder. Julius Beecher liked everything to be orderly. As Antoinette pushed the cup and saucer across the table, he turned to the first page of the document. “Dated March 5, 2012,” he read. “This is Lord Frampton’s last will and testament, witnessed by Mr. Richard Headley of No. 8 Chester Square, London.” Julius raised his eyes and swept them over the expectant faces. “He states he has a wife, Antoinette, and three children: David, Joshua, and Thomas.” Antoinette nodded; Roberta frowned. Why hadn’t he mentioned his daughter? “And one granddaughter, Amber Rose Elizabeth,” Julius continued. He inhaled through dilated nostrils and paused a moment while he ran his eyes over the words that were already familiar to him.
“Please go on, Mr. Beecher,” said Antoinette, keen for the whole business to be over as soon as possible.
“In the event that he is outlived by his wife, he leaves Fairfield House and the estate to you, Lady Frampton, to be managed by your son David, who will inherit it upon your death.” There was no surprise about that. Everyone nodded their agreement. “No. 5 Eaton Place shall remain yours, Lady Frampton, until Joshua inherits it upon your death. He leaves Chalet Marmot in Murenburg to Thomas.”
Tom registered Roberta’s displeasure and smiled at her across the table. “Why would you want Chalet Marmot, Roberta, when you and Josh never go there?”
Roberta blushed. “You’re quite wrong, Tom. It’s right that you should have it,” she said in a tight voice, disguising her jealousy. “Josh and I have so many friends in Gstaad, it would be wasted on us.”
Julius cleared his throat and continued. “Now, he has left his share portfolio to you, Lady Frampton, with the wish that it should be distributed evenly among his three children in the event of your death.”
“What about Phaedra?” Roberta gasped. “I thought she was his daughter? Doesn’t she get a share?”
Julius ignored Roberta; only the subtle raising of one eyebrow betrayed his irritation. “Until that time, he leaves a considerable annuity to all three of his children.”
“All three children!” Roberta echoed. “Surely he had four children?” She turned to Joshua. “Why, if he went to the trouble of changing his will, did he not give his daughter equal status to his sons?”
Joshua lowered his voice. “I don’t know, darling. Let’s just listen to the rest of the will.”
Julius pushed on. “A yearly income of the net sum of five hundred and fifty thousand pounds. To Miss Chancellor he leaves a yearly income of the same.”