This Was A Man (40 page)

‘But Perry told me that if he died before me – and I remember his exact words – the slate would be wiped clean.’

‘Do you have any proof of that?’ asked Camilla.

‘No. But he gave me his word, which surely should be enough.’

‘It’s not his words we’re discussing,’ said Camilla, ‘but yours.’

‘And if he did,’ said Clarence, ‘he certainly didn’t let Moxton know of any such arrangement. There’s no mention of it in the original agreement, which my father
also signed.’ Clarence swivelled it around so Virginia could see a signature she recognized well.

‘I will have to consult my lawyers,’ she stammered, unable to think of anything else to say.

‘We have already consulted ours,’ said Alice, ‘and Mr Blatchford has confirmed that there is no mention in Father’s will of any such gift, just an allowance of five
thousand pounds a month, a briar walking stick and two porcelain vases.’

Virginia suppressed a smile.

‘If you are unable to repay the loan,’ continued Clarence, ‘our accountant has come up with a compromise which I hope you will find acceptable.’ He returned to the
letter. ‘If we were to withhold your monthly allowance of five thousand pounds, the full amount would be paid off in approximately four years, at which time your allowance would be
restored.’

‘However, should you die at some time during the next four years,’ interjected Camilla, ‘let me assure you, the slate would be wiped clean.’

Virginia remained silent for some time before blurting out, ‘But how can I be expected to survive in the meantime?’

‘My father told me, on more than one occasion,’ said Clarence, ‘that your brother gives you a generous monthly allowance which you once said you were never able to spend, so I
rather assumed . . .’

‘He stopped those payments the day I married your father.’

‘Then we must hope that once he has been acquainted with your present circumstances, he will be willing to restore your allowance, otherwise you will have to rely on your substantial
assets, which you also mentioned to my father. Of course, if you are able to repay the full amount of the loan within twenty-eight days that will solve the whole problem.’

Virginia bowed her head and burst into tears, but when she eventually looked up, it was clear that none of them was moved.

‘Perhaps this would be a good opportunity for us to discuss some domestic matters,’ said Camilla. ‘As my brother has explained, my husband will be taking over the management of
the estate, and our family will be living here in the castle. Clarence and Alice will be returning from time to time, but in my brother’s absence, I will be mistress of Castle
Hertford.’ Camilla waited for her words to sink in before she continued. ‘I wish to make it clear, so there can be no misunderstanding in the future, that you will not be welcome here
at any time, and that includes Christmas or any other holidays. You will also make no attempt to contact either of my children, or any members of the castle staff. I have made my wishes clear to Mr
Lomax.’

Virginia looked at Clarence and then at Alice, but it was obvious the family were acting as one.

‘Unless you have anything to ask concerning your future arrangements,’ said Clarence, ‘we have nothing more to discuss with you.’

Virginia rose from her place and left the room with as much dignity as she could muster. She walked slowly across the hall to the front door, which the butler was holding open. He didn’t
address her as she walked out of the castle for the last time. All she heard was the door closing behind her.

Another door was already open so she could be driven back to the Dower House. Once Virginia had been dropped off, she went straight to her study, picked up the phone and dialled a London number,
to be greeted with the first friendly voice she had heard that day.

‘How nice to hear from you, your grace. How can I help?’

‘I need to make an appointment to see you as quickly as possible, Mr Poltimore, because I’ve changed my mind.’

‘I
HAVE NO DOUBT
,’ said Poltimore, ‘that you’ve made a wise decision. But can I ask what caused you to change your
mind?’

‘My late husband wouldn’t have wanted anyone to think he was selling off the family heirlooms.’

‘And the new duke?’ asked Poltimore. ‘How does he feel?’

‘Frankly, Clarence wouldn’t know the difference between Ming and Tupperware.’

Poltimore wasn’t sure whether to laugh, and simply said, ‘Before you agree to allow the vases to go under the hammer, your grace, you might like to know that I’ve had an offer
of seven hundred thousand pounds for them from a private dealer in Chicago, and I’m confident I can push him over the million mark. And perhaps it could be done without anyone even knowing
the transaction had taken place.’

‘But surely a dealer will simply be selling my vases on to one of his customers?’

‘While at the same time making a handsome profit for himself, which is why I’m confident they will fetch a far higher price at auction.’

‘But there must be an outside chance that if the vases do come up for auction, the same dealer might pick them up for less than a million.’

‘That’s most unlikely, your grace, with a piece of this importance. And despite that possibility, I still consider it a risk worth taking, because I’ve already approached half
a dozen leading collectors in the field, and they all showed considerable interest, including the director of the National Museum of China in Beijing.’

‘You’ve convinced me,’ said Virginia. ‘So what should I do next?’

‘Once you’ve signed a release form, you can leave the rest to us. You’re well in time to catch the autumn sale, which is always one of the most popular of the year, and I have
already suggested that we feature the Hertford vases on the cover of the catalogue. Be assured, our customers won’t be in any doubt how important we consider these pieces to be.’

‘Can I mention something in the strictest confidence, Mr Poltimore?’

‘Of course, your grace.’

‘I am most keen that there should be the minimum of publicity before the auction, but the maximum amount possible afterwards.’

‘That shouldn’t be a problem, especially as the arts correspondents from all the national newspapers will be attending the sale. And if the vases fetch the sort of price we
anticipate, it will generate considerable interest in the press, so you can be sure that the following morning, everyone will be aware of your triumph.’

‘I’m not interested in everyone,’ said Virginia, ‘just one member of one particular family.’

‘A gold-plated bitch,’ said Virginia.

‘That bad?’ asked Priscilla Bingham, once their dessert plates had been whisked away.

‘Worse. She has the airs and graces of a duchess, but she’s nothing more than the wife of a jumped-up antipodean sheep farmer.’

‘And you said she’s the second daughter?’

‘That’s right. But she behaves as if she’s the mistress of Castle Hertford.’

‘Wouldn’t all that change if the duke were to get married and decide to reclaim his family seat?’

‘That’s unlikely. Clarence is married to the army, and hopes to be the next colonel of the regiment.’

‘Like his father before him.’

‘He’s nothing like his father,’ said Virginia. ‘If Perry were still alive, he would never have allowed them to humiliate me in this way. But I intend to have the last
laugh.’ She extracted a newly minted auction catalogue from her bag and handed it to her friend.

‘Are these the two vases you told me about?’ asked Priscilla, looking admiringly at the cover.

‘They are indeed. And you’ll see just how much I’m going to make if you turn to lot forty-three.’

Priscilla flicked through the pages and when she reached Lot 43, Two Ming Vases, circa 1462, her eyes settled on the estimate. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

‘How very generous of the duke,’ she eventually managed.

‘He had no idea how much they were worth,’ said Virginia, ‘otherwise he would never have let them go.’

‘But surely the family will find out long before the sale takes place.’

‘Seems unlikely. Clarence is holed up somewhere in Borneo, Alice is in New York peddling bottles of perfume and Camilla never leaves the castle unless she has to.’

‘But I thought you wanted them to find out?’

‘Not until after the sale, by which time I will have banked the cheque.’

‘But even then, they may not hear about it.’

‘Mr Poltimore, who’s conducting the auction, tells me he’s already had calls from several of the leading arts correspondents, so we can expect extensive coverage in the press
the following morning. That’s when they’ll find out, and by then it will be too late because I will have banked the money. I do hope you’ll be able to come to the auction next
Thursday evening, Priscilla, and then you can join me for dinner afterwards at Annabel’s to celebrate. I’ve even booked Perry’s favourite table. It will be just like old
times.’

‘Old times,’ repeated Priscilla, as a waiter appeared and served coffee. ‘Which reminds me, do you ever hear from your ex, following your little coup with Mellor
Travel?’

‘If you mean Giles, he sent me a Christmas card for the first time in years, but I didn’t return the compliment.’

‘I see he’s back on the front bench.’

‘Yes, he’s been pitched against his sister. But he’s so wet, I expect he regularly lets her off the hook,’ Virginia added as she took a sip of coffee.

‘And now she’s a baroness.’

‘She’s a life peer,’ said Virginia. ‘Anyway, she only got her place in the Lords because she backed Margaret Thatcher when she stood for the leadership of the Tory party.
It’s almost enough to make one consider voting Labour.’

‘To be fair, Virginia, the press all seem to agree that she’s doing a rather good job as a health minister.’

‘She’d be better off spending her time worrying about the health of her own family. Drink, drugs, three in a bed, assaulting the police, and her granddaughter ending up in
jail.’

‘It was only for one night,’ Priscilla reminded her. ‘And she was back at the Slade the following term.’

‘Someone must have pulled some very long strings to make that possible,’ said Virginia.

‘Probably your ex-husband,’ suggested Priscilla. ‘He may be in opposition, but I suspect he still has a lot of clout.’

‘And what about your husband?’ asked Virginia, wanting to change the subject. ‘I hope all’s well with him,’ she added, hoping to hear otherwise.

‘He’s still producing a hundred thousand jars of fish paste a week, which allows me to live like a duchess, even if I’m not one.’

‘And is your son still doing the PR for Farthings Kaufman?’ asked Virginia, ignoring the barb.

‘Yes, he is. In fact, Clive’s hoping it won’t be long before they ask him to join the main board.’

‘It must help with Robert being an old friend of the chairman.’

‘And how’s your son?’ asked Priscilla, trading blow for blow.

‘Freddie is not my son, as you well know, Priscilla. And when I last heard, he’d run away from school, which would have solved all my problems, but unfortunately he returned a few
days later.’

‘So who takes care of him during the holidays?’

‘My brother Archie, who lives off the income from the family distillery, which Father promised to me.’

‘You haven’t done too badly, duchess,’ said Priscilla, looking back down at the Sotheby’s catalogue.

‘You may well be right, but I’m still going to make certain it’s me who has the last laugh,’ said Virginia as a waiter appeared by their side, unsure who he should
present the bill to. Although Virginia had invited Priscilla to join her for lunch, she was painfully aware that if she wrote a cheque it would bounce. Still, all that was about to change.

‘My turn next time,’ said Virginia. ‘Annabel’s on Thursday night?’ she added, looking the other way.

When Priscilla Bingham returned to her home in the Boltons, she left the Sotheby’s catalogue on the hall table.

‘Quite magnificent,’ said Bob when he spotted the cover. ‘Are you considering bidding for them?’

‘Nice idea,’ said Priscilla, ‘but you’d have to sell an awful lot more fish paste before we could consider that.’