Timothy waved aside the Boule Cabinet.
'Now look here, young George. You can't go butting in, in this way. I'm an older man than you are – and I'm Richard's only surviving brother. That dessert service is mine.'
'Why not take the Dresden service, Uncle? A very fine example and I'm sure just as full of sentimental memories. Anyway, the Spode's mine. First come, first served.'
'Nonsense – nothing of the kind!' Timothy spluttered.
Maude said sharply:
'Please don't upset your uncle, George. It's very bad for him. Naturally he will take the Spode if he wants to! The first choice is his, and you young people must come afterwards. He was Richard's brother, as he says, and you are only a nephew.'
'And I can tell you this, young man.' Timothy was seething with fury. 'If Richard had made a proper will, the disposal of the contents of this place would have been entirely in my hands. That's the way the property should have been left, and if it wasn't, I can only suspect undue influence. Yes – and I repeat it – undue influence.'
Timothy glared at his nephew.
'A preposterous will,' he said. 'Preposterous!'
He leant back, placed a hand to his heart, and groaned:
'This is very bad for me. If I could have – a little brandy.'
Miss Gilchrist hurried to get it and returned with the restorative in a small glass.
'Here you are, Mr Abernethie. Please – please don't excite yourself. Are you sure you oughtn't to go up to bed?'
'Don't be a fool.' Timothy swallowed the brandy. 'Go to bed? I intend to protect my interests.'
'Really, George, I'm surprised at you,' said Maude. 'What your uncle says is perfectly true. His wishes come first. If he wants the Spode dessert service he shall have it!'
'It's quite hideous anyway,' said Susan.
'Hold your tongue, Susan,' said Timothy.
The thin young man who sat beside Susan raised his head. In a voice that was a little shriller than his ordinary tones, he said:
'Don't speak like that to my wife!'
He half rose from his seat.
Susan said quickly: 'It's all right, Greg. I don't mind.'
'But I do.'
Helen said: 'I think it would be graceful on your part, George, to let your uncle have the dessert service.'
Timothy spluttered indignantly: ' There's no 'letting' about it!'
But George, with a slight bow to Helen said, 'Your wish is law, Aunt Helen. I abandon my claim.'
'You didn't really want it, anyway, did you?' said Helen.
He cast a sharp glance at her, then grinned:
'The trouble with you, Aunt Helen, is that you're too sharp by half! You see more than you're meant to see. Don't worry, Uncle Timothy, the Spode is yours. Just my idea of fun.'
'Fun, indeed.' Maude Abernethie was indignant. 'Your uncle might have had a heart attack!'
'Don't you believe it,' said George cheerfully. 'Uncle Timothy will probably outlive us all. He's what is known as a creaking gate.'
Timothy leaned forward balefully.
'I don't wonder,' he said, 'that Richard was disappointed in you.'
'What's that?' The good humour went out of George's face.
'You came up here after Mortimer died, expecting to step into his shoes – expecting that Richard would make you his heir, didn't you? But my poor brother soon took your measure. He knew where the money would go if you had control of it. I'm surprised that he even left you a part of his fortune. He knew where it would go. Horses, Gambling, Monte Carlo, foreign Casinos. Perhaps worse. He suspected you of not being straight, didn't he?'
George, a white dint appearing each side of his nose, said quietly:
'Hadn't you better be careful of what you are saying?'
'I wasn't well enough to come here for the funeral,' said Timothy slowly, 'but Maude told me what Cora said. Cora always was a fool – but there may have been something in it. And if so, I know who I'd suspect -'
'Timothy!' Maude stood up, solid, calm, a tower of forcefulness. 'You have had a very trying evening. You must consider your health. I can't have you getting ill again. Come up with me. You must take a sedative and go straight to bed. Timothy and I, Helen, will take the Spode dessert service and the Boule Cabinet as momentoes of Richard. There is no objection to that, I hope?'
Her glance swept round the company. Nobody spoke, and she marched out of the room supporting Timothy with a hand under his elbow, waving aside Miss Gilchrist who was hovering half-heartedly by the door.
George broke the silence after they had departed.
'Femme formidable!' he said. 'That describes Aunt Maude exactly. I should hate ever to impede her triumphal progress.'
Miss Gilchrist sat down again rather uncomfortably and murmured:
'Mrs Abernethie is always so kind.'
The remark fell rather flat.
Michael Shane laughed suddenly and said: 'You know, I'm enjoying all this! 'The Voysey Inheritance' to the life. By the way, Rosamund and I want that malachite table in the drawing-room.'
'Oh, no,' cried Susan. 'I want that.'
'Here we go again,' said George, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
'Well, we needn't get angry about it,' said Susan. 'The reason I want it is for my new Beauty shop. Just a note of colour – and I shall put a great bouquet of wax flowers on it. It would look wonderful. I can find wax flowers easily enough, but a green malachite table isn't so common.'
'But, darling,' said Rosamund, 'that's just why we want it. For the new set. As you say, a note of colour – and so absolutely period. And either wax flowers or stuffed humming birds. It will be absolutely right.'
'I see what you mean, Rosamund,' said Susan. 'But I don't think you've got as good a case as I have. You could easily have a painted malachite table for the stage – it would look just the same. But for my salon I've got to have the genuine thing.'
'Now, ladies,' said George. 'What about a sporting decision? Why not toss for it? Or cut the cards? All quite in keeping with the period of the table.'
Susan smiled pleasantly.
'Rosamund and I will talk about it tomorrow,' she said.
She seemed, as usual, quite sure of herself. George looked with some interest from her face to that of Rosamund. Rosamund's face had a vague, rather far-away expression.
'Which one will you back, Aunt Helen?' he asked. 'An even money chance, I'd say. Susan has determination, but Rosamund is so wonderfully single-minded.'
'Or perhaps not humming birds,' said Rosamund. 'One of those big Chinese vases would make a lovely lamp, with a gold shade.'
Miss Gilchrist hurried into placating speech.
'This house is full of so many beautiful things,' she said. 'That green table would look wonderful in your new establishment, I'm sure, Mrs Banks. I've never seen one like it. It must be worth a lot of money.'
'It will be deducted from my share of the estate, of course,' said Susan.
'I'm so sorry – I didn't mean -' Miss Gilchrist was covered with confusion.
'It may be deducted from our share of the estate,' Michael pointed out. 'With the wax flowers thrown in.'
'They look so right on that table,' Miss Gilchrist murmured. 'Really artistic. Sweetly pretty.'
But nobody was paying any attention to Miss Gilchrist's well-meant trivialities.
Greg said, speaking again in that high nervous voice:
'Susan wants that table.'
There was a momentary stir of unease, as though, by his words, Greg had set a different musical key.
