‘Douglas says it’s best to do nothing,’ I said. ‘Not to give Joe any more ammunition that he can then fire back. Douglas is fully aware of what’s been going on and he’s been absolutely wonderful. In fact, I don’t know what I’d have done without him. I’ve been staying at his place in London because the police wouldn’t allow me back into my own house.’
‘Why ever not?’ my mother asked.
‘Forensic examination,’ I explained. ‘They’ve been searching for evidence.’
My mother looked appalled at the thought.
‘I could do with a drink,’ my father announced. ‘Want one?’
‘Why not,’ I said.
‘Whisky?’
He didn’t wait for an answer but went out the door, presumably to the drinks cabinet in the dining room.
‘Why didn’t you tell us before?’ my mother said quietly, but she was already aware of the answer. ‘I suppose your father would have told Amelia to get a grip and stop making a fuss.’
‘It would have made things worse.’
She nodded. She knew him even better than I did. Much better in fact.
‘Edward and Stella are joining us for dinner.’
‘Great,’ I said, not meaning it.
My eldest brother and his wife lived in another part of the castle, as my parents had done when my grandfather was still alive. It had become a tradition in the Gordon-Russell family for the heir apparent to the earldom to live on site but, unlike for former generations, the tax benefits were now being properly utilised. There clearly were some advantages to having a family member in the financial services industry.
In reality, my parents were now houseguests of Edward in his castle, the estate having been transferred to him several years ago. It was a transaction that I had initiated and managed in order to try to prevent another crippling round of inheritance taxes resulting in a total loss, a fate that had befallen so many British stately homes now owned by the National Trust on behalf of the nation after the taxman had come calling once too often.
When questioned by Her Majesty’s Revenue & Customs as to whether my parents would henceforth pay Edward a commercial rent, I had asked whether it was now the taxman’s practice to expect all parents who had given up their own home to pay their children commercial rents when they lived with them in their old age, and the matter had been dropped.
My father returned with a glass of white wine for my mother and two cut-glass tumblers with an ample measure of amber spirit in each for him and me.
‘Bugger the lot of them,’ he said, lifting his glass high in a toast, then he tossed a third of his whisky down his throat in one large gulp.
I smiled ruefully at him as I sipped at mine. It wasn’t that easy just to dismiss them all with an expletive. Maybe I could try telling the police to bugger off, but they probably wouldn’t have taken any notice.
And they didn’t.
12
I had a disturbed night and it was not just because my bedroom was cold, although that hadn’t helped.
Dinner was not easy.
My elder brother, Edward, was not particularly happy that I was there at all. It was clear from his body language.
‘How are the boys?’ I asked, trying to make things civil.
‘Away at prep school,’ Stella said. ‘Near Chester.’
‘You must miss them,’ I said.
‘I do,’ she replied, smiling at me wanly before glancing rapidly at Edward to check his reaction. ‘But they’re home for the half-term break this Friday. I can’t wait.’ This time the smile was genuine.
Edward, meanwhile, was building up a head of steam and it finally blew loudly and tactlessly over the main course.
‘You’re blackening our family’s good name,’ he said directly to me across the table.
I looked down at my food and ignored him — it was less stressful than getting into a fight.
‘Now, now, Edward, dear,’ my mother said, stroking the back of his hand. ‘William has enough trouble without you adding to it.’
It did not noticeably appease my brother, who pompously expressed his opinion that the common people looked to families such as ours to provide role models for their behaviour.
He had clearly forgotten that the first earl, our ancestor, had been a depraved and shameless womaniser who had acquired this castle as a result of a bet on cards in a brothel, and then had allegedly demanded a title in exchange for keeping quiet about an eighteenth-century royal scandal in the same establishment.
Nowadays that might have been called extortion.
‘It’s an outrage him being here,’ Edward muttered to no one in particular.
I looked up at him. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ I said quietly.
I could see from his face that he thought I was lying, and he was about to say something else when our father cut in sharply. ‘That’s enough, Edward. You heard your mother.’
We all sat there in awkward silence for a while, the only noise being the clinking of our cutlery on the plates. And any conversation during the remainder of the meal was somewhat uneasy and forced, such that I think we were all relieved when it was over and Edward and Stella could return to their own quarters at the far end of the castle.
‘I’m tired,’ my mother announced. ‘I’m going up to bed.’
She offered her cheek for a goodnight kiss.
‘I think I might do the same,’ I said. ‘It’s been a long day.’
‘How about a nightcap?’ my father said, raising his bushy eyebrows at me in a manner that suggested that it wasn’t really a request, more of an order.
‘Fine,’ I said.
‘Don’t stay up too late, you boys,’ my mother said with a hollow laugh as she disappeared out through the door.
‘Whisky?’ my father asked. ‘Some of that Glenmorangie you brought with you?’
‘Just a very little,’ I said.
I wasn’t a habitual drinker of alcohol, let alone neat spirits, but on this occasion I welcomed the sharp warming sensation it made in me as it slipped down.
‘Now then, William,’ my father said, clearing his throat. ‘I think it’s time you fought back.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You can’t just stand by and let all this happen to you without responding. Look at this evening at dinner. You let Edward off without as much as a whimper, sitting there with your head down as if he were right and you are guilty. The same with this Bradbury man. It’s time to fight back, boy.’
I stared at him. Part of me agreed with him, and strongly so.
‘But I have been advised by my solicitors not to respond in any way.’
‘I don’t care what their advice is,’ my father said, banging his hand on the table to emphasise the point. ‘Your silence has got to stop or else everyone will believe you killed Amelia. And I’m assuming you didn’t.’
‘No, Pa, I didn’t.’
‘Then say so. Shout it from the ramparts and sue the damn papers for libel.’
‘Suing newspapers is extremely expensive,’ I said.
‘Only if you lose.’
I shook my head. ‘It would be expensive anyway. Even if you win, you never get all your costs back, and your lawyers expect you to pay them what they call a retainer before they will do anything. All of it, up front, just in case you lose. It would run into the hundreds of thousands. I haven’t got that sort of cash lying around, and neither have you.’
‘It’s so bloody unfair,’ my father said in frustration.