The Touch (67 page)

“Have you any theory at all, Dr. Costevan?” the Coroner asked at the end of the evidence.

“One, your honor. That there was a large fault just behind the rock face that Sir Alexander didn’t know about, and that the blast triggered a major collapse of the granite around the fault. I can’t see how else it could have happened. Though it doesn’t mean much to a layman, when I went up on the mountain a few days ago, I found a depression right over the spot where the end of number one tunnel used to be. To a geologist, that indicates a fault that has collapsed, considering that there was no depression there before the accident.”

“Could that cause a huge explosion, Dr. Costevan?”

“It depends, your honor. I don’t think any of us who were in the gallery that morning could tell you whether the noise we heard was an explosion, or the tunnel coming down. Both cause intense sound waves on the ear drums,” said Lee, deliberately scientific.

The Coroner brought in a verdict of death by misadventure; Sir Alexander Kinross was now officially dead.

Ruby and Elizabeth hadn’t attended, but Nell did, even though it had meant yet another trip from Sydney that would be extended because of her father’s memorial service and the reading of his last will and testament. She walked out with Lee, her face grim.

“I think all of that was claptrap,” she said as Lee ushered her into the train from Bathurst to Lithgow.

“In what way, Nell?” he asked, sounding mildly enquiring.

“My father didn’t make mistakes.”

“I agree, he didn’t.”

“So?” she asked, looking dangerous.

“So it’s a mystery, Nell. I don’t have any answers.”

“There’s one somewhere.”

“I hope you can find it. I’d rest easier if you did.”

“My mother doesn’t give a damn.”

“Oh, I think she does. She finds it hard to show what she feels, you should know that better than I.”

“No one better,” said Nell bitterly. “Ruby mourns more.”

“She has more reason to mourn,” he said bluntly.

“We’re an odd couple, Lee, you and I.”

“Embroiled in the peculiar relationships of our parents.”

“Well put. You’re perceptive, for an engineer.”

“Thanks.”

She leaned her cheek against the compartment window and fixed her eyes, a dimmer blue than usual, on Lee’s face. He was subtly changed—surer, older, far more determined. Is it that he expects to be my father’s major heir? But Dad told me that I was. I don’t want to be—I don’t! But no, it isn’t that working in Lee. There is another reason for the change. He’s never attracted me, yet all of a sudden I can see his attraction. Great integrity, and honor, and sensitivity. My mother and his mother both look to him as to their only salvation in this awful time. Oh, isn’t that typical? Lee’s a man. Neither of them gives a hoot whether I’m there or not.

In Lithgow they changed to the Kinross train, having lapsed into a silence each was unwilling to break.

Then he said, “Between Anna’s death and this, Nell, you must have missed quite a lot of classes. Will you be all right?”

“I think so. The exams at the end of the year are on materia medica, clinical medicine, surgery, a bit more physiology and anatomy. I’ll pass because I already know my stuff, and there’s no hard-and-fast rule about attendance, particularly if one is absent with good reason.” Her long face was growing enthused. “I’ll be all right next year too. It’s my final year, 1900, that will be the hardest. There’s so much of it devoted to things I don’t regard as medicine—medical jurisprudence, for instance. I’m doing a doctoral thesis as well, so I hope to graduate as a genuine Doctor of Medicine, not a mere Bachelor of Medicine.”

“What’s your thesis on?”

“Epilepsy.”

Anna, he thought. “Are you planning to marry?” he asked with a charming smile that robbed the question of offense.

“No.”

“A pity. You’re all of Alexander’s blood left.”

“I don’t believe in that sort of thing, Lee. It’s antiquated and unimportant. And there’s Dolly.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding it.

“Unless you want to marry me,” she said, eyes challenging.

“Not in a million years.”

“Why?” she demanded, affronted.

“You’re too scratchy and aggressive, and I’m not the right man to round your corners off. My taste runs to gentle women.”

“Got one picked out, have you?”

“No. One doesn’t pick a woman out. She does the picking.”

Warming to him, she leaned forward. “Yes, I think that’s true,” she said.

“Whatever happened to the anonymous fellow you fancied?”

“Oh, that was so many years ago that I was a mere sixteen. He nearly had a stroke when he found out how young I was. So it fizzled out before it really started to burn.”

“Can’t you rekindle the spark?”

“No! Especially not with Dad’s passing. I’d be a traitor.”

“How so?”

“The bloke happens to be a Labor member of the New South Wales parliament. Head as far up socialism’s arse as Dad’s was up capitalism’s.” She sighed and actually looked a little misty. “Oh, but I did like him! A lot shorter than you, but he’d give you a run for your money in the ring, I’d bet.”

“Only,” said Lee, grinning, “if he knew all those Chinese tricks you learned to defend yourself.”

ALEXANDER’S LAST will and testament was a new one, made two days after Anna’s death—well before Lee’s confession, a great relief. Lee couldn’t blame himself for anything it contained, though he did wonder why Alexander hadn’t changed it once he had been apprised of Lee’s conduct with his wife. Six of Alexander’s seven shares in Apocalypse Enterprises were left outright to Lee; the seventh was left to Ruby, which meant that the thirteen shares totaling the Company’s whole were now seven for Lee, two for Ruby, two for Sung, and two for Constance Dewy. Lee was the major shareholder and indisputably the boss.

Elizabeth, Nell and Dolly were each left an income of £50,000 a year to be paid out of profits or from trusts, as the board saw fit to decide.

Jim Summers got £100,000, the Wong sisters £100,000 each, and Chang £50,000. Alexander expressed a wish that Sung Po should continue as town clerk, and bequeathed him £50,000. Theodora Jenkins received £20,000 and the deeds of her old house.

The 10,000 acres of Mount Kinross were the property of the Company, but Elizabeth was to have tenure of them until her death, after which they would return to the board. All the cash bequests were to be free and clear of legacy duty, to be picked up out of Alexander’s own funds.

His private fortune, his art collection, his rare books and all properties in his name were left for any children Elizabeth might have after his death, a clause that no one understood, even Lee. What had Alexander sensed, for know about them he did not when he made that will? Was it his way of telling Elizabeth that he was sorry, that she was free to marry again?

“I’m so glad it’s you copped the burden, Lee,” said Nell.

“I’m not. I really didn’t expect to.”

“You’re tied hand and foot to Apocalypse Enterprises now. I suppose when I did medicine he washed his hands of me.”

“As the custodian of his achievements, yes, but I wouldn’t call fifty thousand pounds a year washing his hands of you.”

“You don’t know about my hopes that he’d endow a hospital for the mentally disturbed.”

Lee forced a smile. “If you told him you wanted to do that, it’s reason enough to deprive you of the opportunity. Alexander would deem that tilting at windmills, Anna or no Anna.”

“Yes, he would, wouldn’t he? A total pragmatist.”

“Oh, I don’t know—look at his bequest to Theodora.”

“I’m glad he remembered her.”

“So am I.”

“How big is his private fortune, Lee?”

“Enormous. The bequests and legacy duty won’t even dent it.”

“To any children Mum might have after his death…But he knew—we all know!—that she can’t have any children! So what happens to his fortune if she doesn’t have more children?”

“A nice point. Since it’s in the Bank of England, it will probably go into chancery after her death, there to stay for years while lawyers wrangle and feed off its corpse like vultures,” Lee said. “If you have children, you could sue for it on their behalf, I imagine.”

“Mum, to start having children at her age?” Nell looked as if she expected the world to end before that happened. “Though I do admit,” she went on thoughtfully, “that eclampsia probably wouldn’t be a danger.”

“Why not?” asked Lee, clutching at straws.

“I suspect she’s in much better health than she was then.”

“Even at her age?” he asked, tongue in cheek.

“Well, yes, theoretically she’s still fertile, I suppose.”

And there Lee left it.

AT LEAST HE left it as far as Nell was concerned, but Lee soon discovered that he was perpetually caught in Alexander’s web. Ruby was the next one.

“He must have known about Elizabeth and you before he made his will,” said Ruby when they returned to the hotel.

“Believe me, Mum,” he said very earnestly, holding her hands, “Alexander did not know about Elizabeth and me when he made his will. If he had, he would never have left me the major share, and you know it.”

“Then why—?”

“All I can put it down to is a premonition, or perhaps to a feeling that with his death, Elizabeth’s life would take a new turn. That more children wouldn’t harm her,” Lee said, unable to express what he only sensed.

“But he was set to live forever! How could he know that—that within a week of drawing up the wretched thing, he’d be dead in a mine cave-in?” she demanded, pacing.

Lee sighed. “He always called Elizabeth fey, but he was as much a Scot as she. His instincts were uncanny. Truly, I believe that he had a strong premonition.”

“I suppose it can’t have been anything else, but it leaves so much unanswered!” Suddenly she laughed, not hysterically, but in genuine amusement. “Bugger the man! He made that will for a purpose. Just because he’s gone doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s going to stop tormenting us.”

“Sit down, Mum, have a cognac and a cheroot.”

She lifted her balloon to him; he lifted his to her. “Here’s to Alexander,” she said, and tossed the spirit down.

“Alexander. May he never stop tormenting us.”

Not until after dinner did Ruby return to the subjects that were chewing at her.

“My dearest jade kitten, what about Elizabeth?”

“I shall marry her at the appropriate time.”

“Do you swear to me that he didn’t know?”

“No, I won’t! What an idiotic request, Mum! Use your common sense,” he said sharply. “Can we please leave this subject alone?”

She took the rebuke with equanimity, then said, “He must have been down in old Brumford’s office making the draft of the will while Elizabeth was still sleeping, and he signed the final draft straight after breakfast on that second day, Brumford told me. And Alexander said that Nell was sticking to her mother like glue.” Ruby huffed. “He hadn’t seen you, so he couldn’t have known.”

“Oh, please, Mum, change the subject!”

“Nell is going to hit the ceiling when she finds out about you and Elizabeth.”

“As long as you understand, I don’t care about Nell.”

“Oh, I understand! I can’t blame either of you.” And off she went again. “That’s all sustains me over this will business—if he had known, he’d not have made you his major heir. That’s inarguable, even to Nell. Alexander didn’t love Elizabeth, but he wouldn’t have tolerated anyone poaching on his preserves.”

“Mum, I love you, but I’m going to murder you.”

“I know you love me, and I love you too, jade kitten.” The tears began to run down her face, but she managed to smile. “I miss Alexander desperately, but I’m so happy for you. With any luck, I might have some horribly rich grandchildren. She won’t have any trouble having them, I know it in my bones.”

“She says the same thing. So does Nell.”

The phone rang. Lee got up to answer it, the look on his face telling Ruby who the caller was.

“Certainly, Elizabeth. I’ll get her,” he said for Aggie’s benefit. “Mum, Elizabeth would like to speak to you.”

“Is everything all right?” Ruby asked the receiver.

“Yes, Nell and I are fine. But I wasn’t sure how fast Lee was planning to move on Alexander’s statue, so I thought I’d best ring now and tell you what I think,” said the disembodied voice.

“Alexander’s statue?” Ruby asked blankly.

“Not in bronze, Ruby. Please, not in bronze. Tell Lee that I want it in granite. Granite is Alexander’s stone.”

“I’ll tell him.”

Ruby hung up. “She wants Alexander’s statue to be made in granite, not in bronze. It’s his stone, she says. Jesus!”

Indeed it is, thought Lee. He’s entombed under thousands of tons of it. There’s a dimple in the mountain now right over the end of number one tunnel, just as I told the Coroner. He hit a fault—a big one. And he knew it was there. He even teased me by dragging me up there to finish our talk, and stamped on the ground. Hollow. But I was too beside myself to listen. I am the only person who can ask what he can never tell me: Was he planning his suicide before he knew that Elizabeth was unfaithful with me? Did her disappearance provoke more than a natural fear and anxiety? Did he think that he should give her her freedom while she was still young enough to bear more children? Usually he discussed every aspect of a blast with me, but not this one.

ELIZABETH HAD taken to sitting in the library with only the desk lamp switched on; her chair was far from it, shadowed, of no use for any purpose save thinking.

A month since Alexander’s death. It had dragged. With the inquest verdict in, the memorial service over and the will read, the life of Sir Alexander Kinross had finally come to its end. In an odd way Lee seemed to have retreated, not of himself, but inside her own mind. The time was split as with a wedge between Alexander alive and Alexander dead. Her future and her freedom were assured, yet she couldn’t get beyond thoughts of Alexander. Who had, she knew as surely as if he materialized before her and told her, committed suicide. As deliberately, thoughtfully as he did everything. Since she didn’t know that Lee had told Alexander about them, she presumed he hadn’t known about her and Lee, which meant that some other reason lay at the root of it. But what that reason was, she had no idea.