Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2)

by D. E. Stevenson

  “Hallo!” exclaimed Mr. James, pausing and looking with interest at the bureau. “Where did you get that?”

  “We bought it from the fellow who sold us the house,” Ellis told him.

  “It’s exactly like Mother’s bureau,” said Mr. James. “Absolutely identical. Has this one got a secret drawer?”

  “A secret drawer!” exclaimed Bel in surprise. “No, I wish it had; a secret drawer would be rather fun.”

  “Perhaps it has,” suggested Mr. James. “I mean a secret drawer is a secret drawer. It’s only when you know how to open it——”

  “How do you open it?” asked Ellis smiling. He was quite certain that Miss Lestrange’s bureau contained no secrets for he had examined it carefully.

  Mr. James went forward and let down the flap, he put his hand through a little cupboard at the back. “It’s here,” he said, “or it ought to be here—a sort of little handle—yes, I’ve got it!”

  There was a creaking noise and the secret drawer slid out.

  “Oh, how thrilling!” cried Bel. “Let me see how it works.”

  As a matter of fact she was rather disappointed when Mr. James stood back and allowed her to look at the secret drawer for it was small and shallow, little more than a slit.

  Mr. James was disappointed too. “I don’t know what’s the matter with it,” he said, shaking the bureau and tugging at the drawer, “in Mother’s bureau the drawer is quite a decent size; it slides out much farther.”

  “Don’t pull it, Jim!” cried Ellis, somewhat alarmed at the rough handling his property was receiving. “It’s a mistake to use force. I expect the mechanism is a bit rusty. I’ll get an oil-can and have a go at it.”

  “Yes, that’s the idea,” agreed Mr. James. “I wish I could wait and see the result but I shall have to fly.” He glanced at his watch and exclaimed, “Gosh, yes! I shall have to fly. She’ll be frightfully cross if I’m late. You can tell me all about it on Monday, can’t you, Mr. Brownlee?”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  When the Brownlees had seen off their guest at the gate Ellis fetched his oil-can and proceeded to oil the mechanism of the secret drawer. It took him some time because the handle was far back in the little cupboard; he could feel it but he could not see it. Presently with the aid of a feather he managed to introduce some oil into the mechanism and when he had worked the handle to and fro several times the drawer slid out much farther.

  Bel had been watching with interest. She now saw that the drawer was not empty, as they had thought. Right at the back there was a long yellow manila envelope.

  Ellis had seen it too. “What’s this, I wonder,” he said, picking it up as he spoke.

  The flap of the envelope was unsealed; he drew out a parchment document and looked at it curiously. “Look, Bel!” he exclaimed. “It’s someone’s will.”

  “Someone’s will!” cried Bell. Quite suddenly and for no accountable reason she was frightened. She caught hold of Ellis’s arm. “I don’t like it,” she said. “Ellis, I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t like it? What do you mean?”

  “There’s something horrible about it.”

  “Nonsense,” said Ellis smiling. “Why should it be horrible? Look, it says ‘the last will and testament of helen frances lestrange’! Isn’t that queer? She must have hidden it in the secret drawer and forgotten all about it.”

  “Put it in the fire!” cried Bel.

  “What?”

  “Put it in the fire,” she repeated urgently.

  “But, Bel, why should we——”

  “Because I’m frightened of it!”

  “But we can’t burn it without——”

  “We can! We can!” cried Bel frantically. “Give it to me, Ellis. I’ll put it in the fire.”

  “I don’t know what’s the matter with you,” declared Ellis in amazement.

  “I want to put it in the fire, that’s all.”

  “You can’t burn people’s wills.”

  “She’s dead!” cried Bel. “She’s been dead for years and years. That paper belongs to us.”

  “Belongs to us?”

  “Yes, of course. You bought the bureau and its contents, so the paper belongs to us. We can burn it if we like.”

  “No, darling, honestly——”

  “Yes, we can. I want it burnt. I don’t want to read it—or anything. I just want to burn it.”

  “You can’t burn people’s wills.”

  “It’s all over—long ago,” said Bel breathlessly. “It’s been there for years and years.”

  “I know, but——”

  “Listen, Ellis. You said you would do anything for me. You’ve said it over and over again. I want you to burn that paper.”

  “We can’t—really.”

  “You didn’t mean what you said.”

  “Darling Bel, of course I meant what I said. You know I would do anything for you.”

  “Well, then, please burn that horrible paper. I’m asking you to do it, Ellis.”

  “But I can’t,” said poor Ellis. “It’s Miss Lestrange’s will. You can’t put a will into the fire. It wouldn’t be——”

  “Nobody would know! Nobody would ever have known anything about it if you hadn’t found the secret drawer. Oh, how I wish it had never been found!”

  “Bel, do be sensible. What’s all the fuss about?”

  “I want to burn that paper.”

  “It wouldn’t be right to burn the old lady’s will. Don’t you understand, darling? I couldn’t do it because it wouldn’t be right.”

  “You’ll regret it,” began Bel. “You’ll be sorry . . . you didn’t . . . listen . . .” Her voice died away. The room was beginning to get dark. Her knees were trembling. She sank on to the sofa.

  “Darling, what’s the matter?” cried Ellis.

  “I feel—rather—queer——”

  Ellis looked at her in alarm; her head was drooping sideways against the cushion, her face was as white as paper.

  “Bel!” he cried, seizing one of her hands. He was horrified to find it was as cold as a stone—cold and limp—there seemed to be no life in it.

  Ellis raised her feet on to the sofa and tucked a cushion behind her head. He rushed to the cupboard and poured out a glass of brandy. Her lips were quite blue and tightly closed; when he tilted the glass a few drops ran down her chin He was terrified—she was dying—he was sure of it—Bel was dying. His heart was thumping against his ribs with fright. What could he do? Should he run and telephone for the doctor? But how could he leave her like this? He seized her hands and rubbed them, calling her name. He moistened his handkerchief and dabbed her forehead . . .

  After a few minutes Bel’s eyelids fluttered and she gave a little sigh.

  “Bel!” he cried. “Speak to me, darling!”

  Her head moved a little and her eyes opened.

  Again he held the glass to her lips. “Just a little sip, come on, darling!”

  She managed to drink a few drops.

  “A little more,” Ellis pleaded.

  She drank a little more and turned her head away.

  “I know you don’t like it, but it’s doing you good,” he told her. “Do try and drink it, there’s a dear. I’m going to ring up Dr. Armstrong and ask——”

  “No,” said Bel feebly. “Don’t leave me—hold my hand tight.”

  He knelt beside her, holding her hand, gazing at her. She was better, he could see that. The colour was coming back into her face. Yes, she was better—his heart stopped thumping madly.

  After a minute or so he managed to make her drink a little more brandy.

  “Ugh—nasty——” she said, and smiled wanly.

  “My best brandy,” Ellis told her squeezing her hand. He added “Gosh, what a fright you gave me!”

  They were silent for a little while.

  “I felt—so queer,” said Bel at last.

  “Better now?”

  “Yes, much better. It was horrid, Ellis. Everything got
quite dark—all of a sudden.”

  “You were upset, that’s all.”

  “Yes, it was that will. Couldn’t we burn it?”

  “No, darling. You can’t burn people’s wills.”

  “You keep on saying that.”

  “There’s nothing else to say.”

  She sighed. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I ought to take it to Mr. Tennant.”

  “No, Ellis. If you won’t burn it you must read it. Read it now,” she added.

  Ellis picked up the document and unfolded it. He stood and read it carefully. After a few moments he looked up and said, “This is most extraordinary. I don’t understand it at all. She seems to have bequeathed Fletchers End to her sister. It says, ‘To my dear sister Mrs. Dora Jane Harding’.”

  “I thought it might be—something like that,” said Bel in a shaky voice.

  “Did you know about this?” asked Ellis in bewilderment.

  “No, of course not. I just thought—I mean when I saw it I felt terribly frightened.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Ellis frowning. “If she bequeathed the place to her sister how did it come to Roy Lestrange? It belonged to him, didn’t it? He sold it to us, so it must have belonged to him.”

  Bel was silent.

  After a few moments Ellis walked over to the window and stood there looking out. It was beginning to get dark and had started to rain; the heavy drops were pattering on the window. “Yes,” said Ellis at last. “Yes, I see. It didn’t belong to him. This will cancels the other one.”

  “You can still—burn it,” said Bel in a very small voice.

  “You know that’s impossible, don’t you?”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “Quite impossible. We would never have another happy moment.”

  “Ellis, what will happen? It doesn’t mean we shall have to leave Fletchers End, does it?”

  “I’m afraid it looks like that.”

  She had known it, of course. The fear of having to leave Fletchers End had been there, in her mind, but it was far worse now when it was put into words. “Oh, I can’t bear it!” cried Bel. “I love it so dearly! The poor old house was so miserable when we got it—and now it’s happy! I can’t bear to think of leaving it and going away. I can’t bear it!”

  “Perhaps we could make some arrangement with Mrs. Harding. I mean if she doesn’t want to live here——”

  “She will!” exclaimed Bel. “She’ll want to live here.”

  “How do you know?” asked Ellis in surprise.

  “Mr. Harding told me.”

  “Mr. Harding?”

  “Leslie Harding—Roy’s cousin—the one he was staying with in Oxford. He told me that his mother was terribly disappointed when she heard the place had been left to Roy.”

  “I see,” said Ellis. “That’s definite.”

  “I suppose it is quite definite? I mean the will——”

  “We had better face it, Bel. This document is the last will and testament of Miss Lestrange and in it she bequeathes the house to her sister. What could be more definite than that? She must have signed it and put it in the secret drawer—a foolish thing to do!”

  “She ought to have given it to Mr. Tennant?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Ellis!” cried Bel. “Perhaps she changed her mind! Perhaps she didn’t want anyone to find it! If so, it’s all right, isn’t it?”

  Ellis shook his head. “I’m afraid it isn’t any use thinking things like that.”

  “No, I suppose it was silly of me.”

  “You see, Bel, the last will that a person makes cancels all the others. I know that much. So it looks as if the house never really belonged to Roy Lestrange.”

  Bel nodded, “So he had no right to sell it to us.”

  “None at all.”

  “It’s awful for him, isn’t it?”

  “Awful for him? I think Roy Lestrange has done pretty well out of it,” said Ellis grimly. “He sold the house and paid off all his debts. We needn’t waste any sympathy on Roy Lestrange.”

  “But he’ll have to return the money, won’t he?”

  “How?” asked Ellis. “The money has gone, hasn’t it. The man hasn’t a penny left—you told me that yourself.”

  “Ellis! He’ll have to pay——”

  “My dear girl, you can’t get blood out of a stone.”

  “But that’s dreadful!” cried Bel. “Perhaps Mrs. Harding would——”

  “Bel, don’t you understand? If this will is the last she made it cancels the other will, and the house belongs to Mrs. Harding. You couldn’t expect her to buy her own house.”

  “What are we to do?” asked Bel in consternation. “Ellis, what are we to do?”

  For a moment or two Ellis did not reply; he was still gazing out of the window at the falling rain. Then he said, “I had better see Mr. Tennant. He will know what to do.”

  “Yes, perhaps you had better see him.”

  “He has got the other will,” continued Ellis. “The one in favour of Roy Lestrange. It was in the file with all the other documents when I bought the house, so he’s the man to ask. He’ll be able to tell me where we stand—legally, I mean. I shall go now,” added Ellis with decision.

  “Now!” cried Bel. “It’s too late! He won’t be in his office.”

  “I shall go to his house. I must see him to-night; I shan’t be able to sleep a wink until I’ve seen him.” Eilis hesitated and then added, “Of course there’s just a chance that the other will, leaving the house to Roy Lestrange, may be a later one——”

  “Oh!” cried Bel eagerly. “Do you really think so?”

  Ellis did not really think so—and what was the use of raising her hopes? He said doubtfully, “Well, it might be. It all depends on the date—you see that, don’t you?”

  Bel saw. She had no hopes. Ever since her talk with Mr. Harding the fear of losing Fletchers End had lain at the back of her mind.

  There was a short silence and then Ellis turned quickly and took her hand. “Darling Bel,” he said. “Don’t worry too much. Whatever happens we’ve got each other. That’s the main thing.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  When Ellis had gone Bel lay and thought about what had happened. It had all happened so suddenly that she could scarcely believe it. It couldn’t be true, she thought. It couldn’t possibly be true. Less than an hour ago they were happy—having fun with Mr. James—and now it seemed as if the skies had fallen. Less than an hour ago they were comfortably settled, looking forward to a long life in the dear old house—and now they would have to leave it. There was no hope—none at all, thought Bel—if Fletchers End belonged to Mrs. Harding she would want to live in it herself.

  Ellis loved Fletchers End too; they both loved it. The house was so beautiful now; they had done so much to make it beautiful; they had planned every detail together. It was their very own dear house. Must they give it up? Would they have to go away and never see it again? We’ve been too happy here, she thought. We’ve been too happy!

  Bel was weeping now, lying on the sofa and sobbing. She had managed to keep back the tears until Ellis had gone—Ellis hated tears—but now she could keep them back no longer . . . and there was no need, because Ellis would be away for hours. Ellis would go to Mr. Tennant’s house and show him the will and discuss the matter with him. It would take hours.

  She wondered vaguely what Mrs. Warmer was doing and why she had not come to say that dinner was ready, and then she remembered it was Mrs. Warmer’s night out—it was the night of the meeting of the Women’s Institute in Shepherdsford. Bel was glad of that. She could not have faced Mrs. Warmer.

  Ellis was not away for hours. He was back long before Bel expected him. She was still sobbing uncontrollably when the door opened and he came in.

  “Mr. Tennant wasn’t there,” said Ellis. “He’s gone away for a holiday. I could see his partner of course, but that wouldn’t be much use—besides I don’t like
the man. Oh Bel, don’t cry like that, darling! You’ll make yourself ill.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “We had better try to eat some food.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “It might do us good,” said Ellis. He took her hand and helped her to get up from the sofa.

  Mrs. Warmer had left their supper on the dining-room table: cold chicken and salad; a plate of sandwiches, covered with a napkin, and coffee in the percolator ready to be heated up.

  “We must eat something,” said Ellis firmly. “I’ll give you a little piece of chicken, shall I?”

  Bel had managed to control her tears. She said, “I’ll eat something if you will. I could drink some coffee.”

  They went on talking while they were having their meal. Ellis had the will in his pocket, he took it out and showed it to Bel. Miss Lestrange’s signature was witnessed by James Fuller and A. S. Whittaker.

  “It couldn’t be old Mr. Fuller, could it?” said Ellis.

  “Yes, it is. He told me about it one day when I was talking to him in the garden.”

  “Told you he had witnessed Miss Lestrange’s will?”

  “Not exactly,” she replied thoughtfully. “He talks on and on, you know. I wasn’t really listening properly . . . he said she called him in from the garden to write his name on a paper . . . and Dr. Whittaker was there. He said there had to be two people.”

  “Yes, of course. There must be two witnesses to a will. What else did he say? Try to remember, Bel.”

  “That was all, I think—except that she gave him ‘ten bob’—but you could ask him, couldn’t you?”

  “No, we mustn’t speak to anyone about it until we know exactly how we stand,” said Ellis firmly. “We must wait until Mr. Tennant comes home. The whole thing is such a muddle and I don’t know enough about law to see my way clearly. It’s very serious, Bel.”

  “Of course it’s serious!” she exclaimed.

  “It’s more serious than you think. You see, Bel, I borrowed from a building society to buy the house—it’s a sensible thing to do and it’s done every day by thousands of people who don’t want to touch their capital—and in addition to that we’ve spent a great deal on doing up the place. I felt perfectly justified in these measures because the house was a valuable asset.”