But Ellie's family objected violently to this. They wanted the body brought to America to be buried with her forebearers. Where her grandfather and her father, her mother and others had been laid to rest. I suppose it was natural, really, when one comes to think of it.
Andrew Lippincott came down to talk to me about it. He put the matter in a reasonable way.
'She never left any directions as to where she wished to be buried,' he pointed out to me.
'Why should she?' I demanded hotly. 'How old was she – twenty-one? You don't think at twenty-one you're going to die. You don't start thinking then the way you want to be buried. If we'd ever thought about it we'd assume we'd be buried together somewhere even if we didn't die at the same time. But who thinks of death in the middle of life?'
'A very just observation,' said Mr. Lippincott. Then he said, 'I'm afraid you'll also have to come to America, you know. There's a great deal of business interests you'll have to look into.'
'What sort of business? What have I got to do with business?'
'You could have a great deal to do with it,' he said. 'Don't you realise that you're the principal beneficiary under the will?'
'You mean because I'm Ellie's next of kin or something?'
'No. Under her will.'
'I didn't know she ever made a will.'
'Oh yes,' said Mr. Lippincott. 'Ellie was quite a businesslike young woman. She'd had to be, you know. She'd lived in the middle of that kind of thing. She made a will on coming of age and almost immediately after she was married. It was lodged with her lawyer in London with a request that one copy should be sent to me.' He hesitated and then said, 'If you do come to the States, which I advise, I also think that you should place your affairs in the hands of some reputable lawyer there. Because in the case of a vast fortune, large quantities of real estate, stocks, controlling interests in varying industries, you will need technical advice.'
'I'm not qualified to deal with things like that,' I said. 'Really, I'm not.'
'I quite understand,' said Mr. Lippincott.
'Couldn't I place the whole thing in your hands?'
'You could do so.'
'Well then, why don't I?'
'All the same, I think you should be separately represented. I am already acting for some members of the family and a conflict of interests might arise. If you will leave it in my hands, I will see that your interests are safeguarded by your being represented by a thoroughly able attorney.'
'Thank you,' I said, 'you're very kind.'
'If I may be slightly indiscreet – ' he looked a little un-comfortable – it pleased me rather thinking of Lippincott being indiscreet.
'Yes?' I said.
'I should advise you to be very careful of anything you sign. Any business documents. Before you sign anything, read it thoroughly and carefully.'
'Would the kind of document you're talking about mean anything to me if I do read it?'
'If it is not all clear to you, you will then hand it over to your legal adviser.'
'Are you warning me against somebody or someone?' I said, with a suddenly aroused interest.
'That is not at all a proper question for me to answer,' said Mr. Lippincott. 'I will go this far. Where large sums of money are concerned it is advisable to trust nobody.'
So he was warning me against someone, but he wasn't going to give me any names. I could see that. Was it against Cora? Or had he had suspicions, perhaps suspicions of some long standing – of Stanford Lloyd, that florid banker so full of bonhomie, so rich and carefree, who had recently been over here 'on business'? Might it be Uncle Frank who might approach me with some plausible documents. I had a sudden vision of myself, a poor innocent boob, swimming in a lake surrounded by evilly disposed crocodiles, all smiling false smiles of amity.
'The world,' said Mr. Lippincott, 'is a very evil place.'
It was perhaps a stupid thing to say, but quite suddenly I asked him a question.
'Does Ellie's death benefit anyone?' I asked.
He looked at me sharply.
'That's a very curious question. Why do you ask that?'
'I don't know,' I said, 'it just came into my head.'
'It benefits you,' he said.
'Of course,' I said. 'I take that for granted. I really meant – does it benefit anyone else?'
Mr. Lippincott was silent for quite a long time.
'If you mean,' he said, 'does Fenella's will benefit certain other people in the way of legacies, that is so in a minor degree. Some old servants, an old governess, one or two charities but nothing of any particular moment. There's a legacy to Miss Andersen but not a large one for she has already, as you probably know, settled a very considerable sum on Miss Andersen.'
I nodded. Ellie had told me she was doing that.
'You were her husband. She had no other near relations. But I take it that your question did not mean specifically that.'
'I don't know quite what I meant by it,' I said. 'But somehow or other, you've succeeded, Mr. Lippincott, in making me feel suspicious. Suspicious of I don't know whom or why. Only, well suspicious. I don't understand finance,' I added.
'No, that is quite apparent. Let me say only that I have no exact knowledge, no exact suspicions of any kind. At someone's death there is usually an accounting of their affairs. This may take place quickly or it may be delayed for a period of many years.'
'What you really mean,' I said, 'is that some of the others quite likely might put a few fast ones over and ball up things generally. Get me perhaps to sign releases – whatever you call the things.'
'If Fenella's affairs were not, shall we say, in the healthy state they ought to be, then – yes, possibly her premature death might be, shall we say, fortunate for someone, we will name no names, someone perhaps who could cover his traces more easily if he had a fairly simple person, if I may say so, like yourself to deal with. I will go that far but I do not wish to speak further on the matter. It would not be equitable to do so.'
There was a simple funeral service held in the little church. If I could have stayed away I would have done so. I hated all those people who were staring at me lining up outside the church. Curious eyes. Greta pulled me through things. I don't think I'd realised until now what a strong, reliable character she was. She made the arrangements, ordered flowers, arranged everything. I understood better now how Ellie had come to depend upon Greta as she had done. There aren't many Gretas in the world.
The people in the church were mostly our neighbours – some, even, that we had hardly known. But I noticed one face that I had seen before, but which I could not at the moment place. When I got back to the house, Carson told me there was a gentleman in the drawing-room waiting to see me.
'I can't see anyone today. Send him away. You shouldn't have let him in!'
'Excuse me, sir. He said he was a relation.'
'A relation?'
Suddenly I remembered the man I'd seen in the church. Carson was handing me a card.
It meant nothing to me for a moment. Mr. William R. Pardoe. I turned it over and shook my head. Then I handed it to Greta.
'Do you know by any chance who this is?' I said. 'His face seemed familiar but I couldn't place it. Perhaps it's one of Ellie's friends.'
Greta took it from me and looked at it. Then she said, 'Of course.'
'Who is it?'
'Uncle Reuben. You remember. Ellie's cousin. She's spoken of him to you, surely?'
I remembered then why the face had seemed familiar to me. Ellie had had several photographs in her sitting-room of her various relations carelessly placed about the room. That was why the face had been so familiar. I had seen it so far only in a photograph.
'I'll come,' I said.
I went out of the room and into the drawing-room.
