"Oh, but you needn't worry," Matthew continued. "At each of your funerals I shall be the very epitome of grief. I shall weep and wail long and loud and no-one will be able to console me. Naturally, they won't realise that my tears will really be tears of relief — and triumph."
Lord Alfred smirked. "You won't do it," he said. "You're not man enough."
"Is that so? Well, Lord Alfred Willoughby, for once in your perfect little life perhaps your judgement is just about to display a flaw — a fatal one."
Then he stood firmly on both feet and levelled the pistol. Steadying his aim and breathing deeply, the next words came hoarsely from his throat, "Why didn't you love me?"
"Matthew?" Lord Alfred's voice was quieter now, calmer. "This is not the way. We can talk it through and work something out."
"Too late for that," Matthew replied, his face still wet with tears. "Too late for that, and now — it's too late for you!"
His expression was set and grim.
"Don't be a fool, man!" Lord Alfred whispered, pleading.
"Bye… Dad."
Charles closed his eyes.
Matthew surveyed the scene for just a moment longer… then squeezed the trigger. A sharp crack echoed throughout the crypt. Then he seemed to falter and stagger a little, before dropping his gun and falling to the floor spread-eagled and unconscious.
From the shadows behind him, James emerged and stood over him, still wielding the cricket bat. He glanced across at Charles, who was now as white as a sheet.
"I did warn you he was a scoundrel, sir."
Chapter 20
Following a rather unpleasant and emotional trial, in which both Charles and Lord Alfred were the principal witnesses, Matthew Willoughby was sent to jail. James and Mrs Gillcarey sat in the public gallery of the courtroom as he was led away to begin his sentence. She dabbed a tear from her eye as she saw the overwhelming conflict of emotion crossing His Lordship's face.
It was not long afterwards that His Lordship fell ill and, finally, died — for real this time. The funeral was a simple affair, as he had requested, with only a very few people in attendance.
"He wanted to leave quietly and with as little fuss as possible," explained the vicar to the select gathering. Charles and James had exchanged glances at that moment, each knowing what the other was thinking — that Lord Alfred's first ‘death’ had been fraught with fuss and was anything but quiet!
As expected, when the Last Will and Testament was read, apart from the five million pounds which James received, along with Heston Lodge for Meg, Charles inherited everything else and suddenly found himself to be very wealthy indeed. He moved into Heston Grange and set himself the task of gradually refurbishing the more decaying areas, intending to restore the house to its former glory. He also invited both James and Mrs Gillcarey to retain their positions as butler and housekeeper and was delighted when they both agreed. However, his otherwise pure delight was slightly tarnished by a question that hovered in the back of his mind. So he decided to address it, and waited for an appropriate time, knowing that a suitable moment would present itself sooner or later. As things turned out, it was sooner.
It was a pleasant Summer afternoon, and Charles was relaxing in a cane rocking chair on one of his many patios following a delicious lunch of monkfish and fresh salad. The sun was shining, the birds were chirruping merrily, and even the ocean in the distance was sounding friendly today. James was just setting down a tray of coffee with steamed milk when Charles decided that now was the time.
"James, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, sir."
"Thanks to the provision of Lord Alfred, you are now a millionaire."
"Yes, sir."
"In the light of that, why would you wish to continue working as a butler?"
"Are you unhappy with my service, sir?"
Charles laughed, a full friendly laugh.
"Good gracious, no! It's just that most people, having encountered such a windfall, would probably stop working, or at least look to embark on something new."
"At my time of life, sir, is it not perhaps just a little on the late side to be looking for something new? In any case, I feel that I owe it to you to stay in your employment."
"Whatever do you mean? Why do you owe it to me?"
James shuffled his feet and looked a little uncertain. When he spoke, Charles knew that he was suddenly not speaking as a butler, but man to man.
"May I sit down, sir?"
"Of course. Let me pour you some coffee."
"No, thank you." He paused, and Charles knew that James had something significant to say.
"I need to tell you something of Lord Alfred's history," he began. "His Lordship was very close to his brother who was happily married and had four lovely children. Although Lord Alfred dearly loved Lady Caroline, his second wife, it seemed that they were unable to have children, for some reason. They were so deeply heartbroken after the death of their first adopted son, William, that His Lordship and his brother made a rather extraordinary pact: having had the privilege of raising a wonderful family of his own, but not wishing to have any further children it was decided, with the full agreement of all concerned, that this brother and his wife would have one more child which they would then give to Lord Alfred to raise as his own. The brother, though, had fallen on hard times and was not in employment. So His Lordship's part of the bargain was to offer him full time employment and to allow him frequent access to see the boy growing up; although, naturally, he was never allowed to mention his connection with the lad."
"What employment was he offered?" asked Charles.
James cleared his throat. "At that time," he replied, "there was a vacancy for a butler." he paused and looked down.
It took a moment for the penny to drop.
"James… you are Lord Alfred's brother?"
James nodded, slowly. "And Matthew is my son. At least, he was, for a short while. But can you even begin to imagine how difficult it was for me to see my son growing up in a way that was, shall we say, less than satisfactory? As time went on, with his conduct becoming steadily worse, both my wife and I began to feel so guilty that after having had such a wonderful family of our own we had now provided my brother with such a disappointing son. It seemed to hit Margaret — my wife — especially hard. And, although I can't be sure, I can't help feeling that Matthew's going off the rails was the initial cause of the start of her deterioration."
"She became unwell?"
"In a manner of speaking. What do you think? You did meet her, after all."
So here was the second thunderbolt.
"Meg?"
James nodded again, sadly. A tear slipped from the corner of one eye and began to run to down his cheek.
"As her condition worsened I felt so powerless to help. So she was moved to the lodge. I wanted to do whatever I could; I would have done anything, but there was nothing that could be done. In a way, I felt as though I was abandoning her, but — oh, Mr Seymour — it was because I loved her so much that I could not bear to watch as she gradually ceased to be the lovely, caring person she had been before. I still visit her occasionally, when I think I may be strong enough to keep from breaking down in front of her. But then… " the tears were flowing more freely now as he fought to maintain his composure, "…but then it occurs to me that if I am the sort of man who would abandon his wife like that… " his voice cracked a little. "…then maybe it's not so surprising that Matthew, my son, would turn out to be such a bad sort."
Charles reached out and placed his hand on the old man's shoulder and offered him a tissue. He waited quietly and respectfully as James wiped away his tears.