Miss Buncle Married

by D. E. Stevenson

  “Go, Arthur,” she besought him. “Go quickly—I must see her now—at once—immediately.”

  Arthur thought she was mad, but he saw that he must humor her—it was the only thing to do—and he fled to find Trivvie.

  I’ll make her do it, Barbara thought, as she waited in the hall for Trivvie to come, I must make her do it. Of course there’s no truth in it—none at all—it’s merely an amazing coincidence—it must be that, it must be—but, all the same, I shall make Trivvie go straight home and take out the pin.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Vultures Gather

  Lady Chevis Cobbe died very early one spring morning. Jerry had been summoned from Ganthorne Lodge the night before. She had found Sir Lucian Agnew in the big hall, and the two of them sat over the fire together and talked in low voices. The cousins arrived from London and Pangbourne during the night, and were accommodated with rooms in the big empty house. The accommodating of the cousins was Jerry’s job—since there was nobody else to undertake it—and she found it a most onerous task, for both lots of cousins were convinced that they were the heirs to Chevis Place, and, therefore, entitled to the best room. Dr. Wrench was there, of course, and Mr. Tupper; and the London specialist (summoned by Dr. Wrench on his own responsibility) came down in his Daimler, looked at the patient, and departed again, saying that there was nothing more to be done, and leaving it to be understood that it was much too late, and that, if he had been called in before, he could have done a good deal.

  It was an extraordinarily wearing night, and when it was all over and her ladyship had departed peacefully to a Better Land (which presumably would suit her down to the ground seeing that there is said to be no marriage nor giving in marriage there), Jerry was thoroughly exhausted and more miserable and disgusted than she had ever been before.

  Jerry felt that the real sadness of Aunt Matilda’s death lay in the fact that nobody really minded—nobody was heartbroken at her passing. Even she, herself, who had always been quite fond of Aunt Matilda, could not summon any tears. The truth was that Lady Chevis Cobbe had not been a lovable woman; she was “queer,” and her queerness kept her aloof from her kind; she was proud, and her pride had erected a barrier between herself and the outside world; she was suspicious of anybody who was “nice” to her, and her suspicion poisoned the atmosphere round about her.

  “I believe Dr. Wrench is the one who feels it most,” said Jerry to herself, as she looked at the doctor’s white face and shadowed eyes, “and he only feels it because he feels he ought to have been able to do more for her than he did—which is rot,” said Jerry, “because I’m perfectly certain nobody could. Sir Lucian feels it too, of course, but only in an outside sort of way. He is seeing himself all the time, and he sees himself as a man who has lost his best friend. It’s really rather disgusting. And as for the Chevis relations—well—they’re just vultures.”

  When morning came, the big house, which had been half empty for so long, was filled with people—people whispering together in low voices, going softly up and down the broad staircase, gathering in the dining-room for breakfast, and dispersing again on various pretexts.

  Jerry had intended to return to Ganthorne Lodge when breakfast was over, but Mr. Tupper told her that she was to stay.

  “It will be better for you to remain here until—ahem—in the meantime,” he said firmly. “After all, you knew her ladyship very well—I should like you to be here, and take control of the—er—rather equivocal situation, until—ahem.”

  “But I can’t take control,” said Jerry, aghast. “None of the Chevis relations listen to me.”

  “You must do your best,” Mr. Tupper told her. “After all, it is only for two days.”

  It was only for two days, until (as Mr. Tupper had been too delicate to say) the funeral was over and the will was read. Once the will had been read everything would be made plain. Archie would get his inheritance, and the Chevis relations would fade away—but it was the longest two days that Jerry had ever spent.

  Archie Cobbe had been motoring in Cornwall with a friend; he arrived at Chevis Place the day after his aunt’s death. He was extremely annoyed to find the house full of Chevis relations, all of whom were under the impression that it was their prerogative to take command of the situation. They beheld Archie’s efforts to assume control with indifference, or scorn, or repressed rage (according to their temperaments). After all, what was Archie? He was only a Cobbe. The Chevis relations were suspicious and resentful of each other, but they united in their resentment against these upstart Cobbes.

  The situation was equivocal, as Mr. Tupper had said, for the house was full of people bent on showing their authority. Denis Chevis, for instance (who lived in town, and was therefore up-to-date), informed the butler that dinner was to be served at eight-thirty, instead of at eight o’clock as hitherto; and Bertie Chevis (who lived at Pangbourne, and prided himself upon his old-fashioned ways) desired the butler to inform the cook that he preferred to dine at seven sharp. The wretched Killigrew brought these conflicting orders to Jerry, and asked what was to be done about it.

  “Goodness!” said Jerry.

  “It’s awkward, isn’t it, Miss?”

  “Very awkward,” she agreed, “and I think on the whole,” she added with Solomon-like judgment, “I think on the whole, Killigrew, the best thing will be just to go on having dinner at the usual time.”

  “Yes, Miss,” said Killigrew, and he heaved a sigh of relief, for what Mrs. Sheffield would have said if he had had to go to her and ask her to change the hour of dinner in such a ridiculous manner Killigrew couldn’t imagine. “Yes, Miss,” said Killigrew. “Yes, I think—if you will excuse me saying so—I think that will be the best way out of the dilemma.”

  So dinner appeared at the usual hour, and nothing was said by either of the gentlemen who had wanted it changed. There was a good deal of maneuvering for places at the long dinner table, but it was all quite decorous, there was nothing unseemly about it. Archie managed to secure the seat at the head of the table before Denis and Bertie had time to perceive his intention—he was younger than either of them, and considerably more agile.

  “Just wait till the will’s read,” said Bertie Chevis to his wife in the privacy of their bedroom. “I shall put that young man in his place when the will’s read.”

  “I suppose you’re quite sure it’s all right, Bertie?”

  “Of course it’s all right,” replied Bertie confidently. “Matilda showed me her will, years ago—of course it’s all right.”

  Denis Chevis and the partner of his bosom were holding much the same kind of conversation in their bedroom, which was situated at the other end of the house.

  “It’s all that girl’s fault,” Denis was explaining, “that Jerry Cobbe—ridiculous giving the Berties the best room like that—perfectly ridiculous. Have you noticed the way she and her brother try to run the whole show? Just because they live here and saw a lot of Matilda before she died.”

  “I suppose you don’t think they can have got round Matilda in any way?” inquired the partner of his bosom in anxious tones.

  “Good Lord, no,” replied Denis, confidently. “Matilda wouldn’t leave Chevis Place to a Cobbe. Besides, I saw her will. She showed it to me that time I was down here—it’s perfectly all right. No need at all to worry. We shall just have to be patient until the will’s read.”

  Archie was another who was waiting impatiently for the will to be read. He was longing to get rid of the Chevis relations and enjoy the amenities of Chevis Place at his leisure. Unlike the others he was a trifle anxious about the will. He had been shown it, of course, and he was certain it was “all right” really, but it seemed almost too good to be true, that, after all these years, Chevis Place was actually within his grasp. He was certain it was “all right,” but he would not feel absolutely comfortable and happy until he had hear
d the will. Archie tried to get hold of Mr. Tupper several times during those two days, but it was extraordinarily difficult, and, even when Archie at last managed to hem him in and pin him down, Mr. Tupper was elusive and noncommittal.

  “I can give you no authority,” said Mr. Tupper, with legal dryness, “I can give you no authority at all.”

  “But I’m the heir,” Archie pointed out. “I’m Aunt Matilda’s heir. She showed me her will, so there’s no doubt about it at all. And I don’t really see why I should be obliged to have the house full of all these Chevis relations. Can’t you tell them that I’m the heir?”

  “I can tell them nothing,” said Mr. Tupper firmly. “Dr. Wrench and I are her ladyship’s executors, and we have decided that nothing is to be said or done until the will has been read.”

  The two days passed and Lady Chevis Cobbe was buried with suitable pomp and ceremony in the tomb of her ancestors. Several heavy showers fell during the proceedings as if to show that nature mourned her death—if no one else did. But this pretty idea occurred to none of her relations. Denis Chevis turned up the collar of his morning coat and murmured to his wife, who was standing next to him, “April showers.” She agreed, and wondered, rather miserably, whether they would “have to live here now.” It was a horrid damp place, she thought, and she hated the country at any time. But she comforted herself with the reflection that they would have “lots of money” and could shut up the place for the greater part of the year, and spend their time very profitably in London—Denis doesn’t like the country either, she thought, that’s one mercy.

  After the funeral the whole party gathered in the dining-room, with barely concealed anxiety and expectation on their countenances. Archie was well to the fore, advising everybody where to sit; opening this window, and shutting that one, to obviate any drafts; raising one blind and lowering another, so that the room should be light enough, but not too bright for the mournful occasion.

  They were all ready and waiting for some minutes before Mr. Tupper made his appearance, followed by Dr. Wrench. The subdued hum of conversation died away as the two executors came in. Mr. Tupper looked grave and important as befitted his task, but Dr. Wrench looked scared and miserable and, in very truth, he was both. There were at least three people in the room, each of whom believed himself to be the heir to Chevis Place, and believed it erroneously. Monkey knew enough about human nature to imagine the reactions of these people when they heard the will read. There would be a scene—there would be the devil of a scene—and Monkey hated scenes. He wished, devoutly, that a message would come for him which would necessitate his immediate departure from the battlefield. I wouldn’t mind what it was, thought Monkey wretchedly, even a breach presentation would be better than this.

  “Is everybody here?” inquired Mr. Tupper, taking up his position at the table and looking round the room.

  “Yes, everybody’s here,” said Archie promptly.

  “I don’t see Miss Jeronina Cobbe.”

  “No, she’s gone upstairs. She’s got a headache,” Archie explained. “It doesn’t matter about Jerry; I can tell her all about it afterward.”

  “I think Miss Jerry should be here,” said Mr. Tupper, frowning, “you had better go and fetch her.”

  “It’s no good,” Archie told him a trifle irritably—why on earth couldn’t the old idiot get on with the will. “It’s no good bothering about Jerry. I told her to come and she wouldn’t.”

  Dr. Wrench leaned forward and whispered something to his co-executor. “Rather upset,” he whispered, “fond of her ladyship—just as well in a way—don’t you think?”

  “Very well,” said Mr. Tupper aloud. “I shall read the will to you first, and I shall go upstairs and see Miss Cobbe later—ahem.”

  He began to read the will.

  “This is the last will and testament of me Matilda Victoria Chevis Cobbe sometime known as Chevis Cobbe of Chevis Place Wandlebury in the county of Westshire, widow. I hereby revoke all testamentary dispositions heretofore made by me and declare this to be my last will.”

  1. I appoint Alfred Tupper of Wandlebury aforesaid solicitor and Charles Wrench of the Corner House Wandlebury aforesaid Bachelor of Medicine to be the executors and trustees of this my will.

  2. I declare that in the interpretation of this my will the expression “my trustees” shall (where the context permits) mean and include the trustees or trustee for the time being hereof whether original or substituted and if there be no such trustees or trustee shall (where the context permits) include the persons or person empowered by statute to exercise or perform any power or trust hereby or by statute conferred upon the trustees hereof and willing or bound to exercise or perform the same.

  3. I bequeath the following specific legacies:

  4. To my cousin Bertrand Chevis of Mill Hall Pangbourne in the county of Berkshire, the Chevis Miniatures contained in the glass table in the drawing-room at Chevis Place aforesaid.

  5. To my cousin Denis Adam Chevis of 20 Finckle Street in the Borough of Kensington, the collection of Seventeenth-Century Snuff Boxes in the glass table in the library at Chevis Place aforesaid.

  6. To my deceased husband’s nephew Archibald Edward Cobbe of Ganthorne Lodge Ganthorne in the county of Westshire, the gold watch and chain the property of my deceased husband.

  7. To my friend Lucian Agnew of Kingsmill House Wandlebury aforesaid Baronet, all my miniatures other than the Chevis Miniatures aforesaid and also my Rockingham tea and coffee service which he has always admired and also the Royal Worcester china bowl in the drawing-room at Chevis Place aforesaid and also the Ebony Cabinet with the Dresden china plaques which stands in my boudoir.

  8. I bequeath the following pecuniary legacies:

  9. To the said Bertrand Chevis, the sum of Two Thousand pounds.

  10. To the said Denis Adam Chevis, the sum of Two Thousand pounds.

  11. To each of my said trustees in the event of their accepting the office of trustee, the sum of Two Thousand pounds such sums to be in addition to any other sums hereinafter appearing.

  12. To each of my nephews John Bertrand Chevis and James Bertrand Chevis and to my niece Matilda Ann Chevis all of Holly Lodge Winkham in the county of Essex, the sum of Five Hundred pounds, respectively.

  13. To the said Charles Wrench, the sum of Five Hundred pounds in consideration of his faithful services to me during my various illnesses.

  14. To my personal maid Annette Gaule…(here followed a list of her ladyship’s servants and dependents and the various charities in which she was interested with bequests according to their deserts).

  15. I give devise and bequeath all my real estate not hereby or by any codicil hereto otherwise specifically disposed of to which I may be entitled at my death or over which I may have a general power of appointment and including the Mansion House Chevis Place aforesaid unto my deceased husband’s niece Jeronina Mary Cobbe of Ganthorne Lodge aforesaid absolutely Provided always that the said Jeronina Mary Cobbe shall at the time of my death be unmarried and that she shall within one year of my death endeavor to procure the Royal License to take the name of Chevis prefixed and in addition to her own, and in default of compliance with these conditions or any of them I direct that this bequest shall be reduced to the sum of Two Thousand pounds and all my personal jewelry and I give, devise, and bequeath all my real estate as aforesaid to my deceased husband’s nephew the said Archibald Edward Cobbe absolutely Provided always that he shall at the time of my death be unmarried and that he shall within one year of my death endeavor to procure the Royal License to take the name of Chevis prefixed and in addition to his own and shall agree to reside at Chevis Place aforesaid at least eight months in every year.

  16. Subject as heretofore I give, devise, and bequeath all the residue of my personal estate and effects unto my trustees upon trust to sell, call in, and convert
the same into money (with power at their discretion to postpone such sale, calling-in, and conversion) and after payment thereout of my debts funeral and testamentary expenses to stand possessed of the same upon trust for the benefit of such person as shall become entitled to my real estate including the Mansion House Chevis Place aforesaid under the trusts and provisions hereinbefore declared and contained IN WITNESS whereof, I the said Matilda Victoria Chevis Cobbe the testatrix have to this my will set my hand this 19th day of April One thousand nine hundred and thirty four.

  Signed, published, and declared by the said Matilda Victoria Chevis Cobbe as and for her Last Will and Testament in the presence of us present at the same time who in her presence, at her request, and in the presence of each other have hereunto subscribed our names as witnesses

  Matilda Victoria Chevis Cobbe

  Timothy Deans

  11 Downes Road, Wandlebury

  Clerk.

  Eric Pinthorpe

  Rose Cottage

  Chevis Place, Wandlebury

  Clerk.

  The will was not read without interruptions. Archie Cobbe and Bertie and Denis Chevis were equally appalled when they began to realize that this was quite a different will from the one each had been shown—at different times—by Lady Chevis Cobbe. They glared at each other; they glared at Mr. Tupper; they started to their feet and were pulled down again by those who were sitting next to them. It was only because each hoped against hope for a codicil at the end, giving him the bulk of the estate, that they allowed Mr. Tupper to finish. But, when the end was reached, and no codicil was read, they all three burst into angry speech. It was abominable, it was disgraceful, it was a put-up job. What was the meaning of it—that was what they wanted to know. Chevis Place to go to a young girl barely out of her teens—Chevis Place to go to a Cobbe! What was the meaning of this injustice—it was madness, sheer madness—what was the meaning of it?

  “The meaning of it is perfectly clear,” said Mr. Tupper in his most legal manner. “Miss Jeronina Mary Cobbe is the residuary legatee. Apart from the various bequests which I have just read to you, the whole property goes to her. The only condition which she has to fulfill to obtain possession of the property is as follows—she must be unmarried at the time of the testator’s death, and since she indubitably fulfills this condition, there is nothing to prevent her from inheriting. She must, of course, assume the name of Chevis in addition to her own, but that is purely a matter of routine and I anticipate no difficulties—”