Dr. Armstrong paused for a moment thinking rather sadly of the indomitable old lady. She had suffered a great deal of pain and borne it courageously; her bitter tongue had alienated all her friends; she was lonely and often miserable; sometimes she was cross and disagreeable but all the same he had liked her quite a lot. And he had missed her. Life had seemed a bit flat after she had died.
“You were going to tell me about the will,” Bel reminded him.
“Yes,” agreed the doctor. “Well, of course it was essential to have two witnesses, so she called old Fuller who was working in the garden and told him to clean his boots and wash his hands and come in. Presently in came Fuller; he was quite composed and confident—not a bit surprised or embarrassed—it was obvious to me that he had done this before and knew the procedure. He watched Miss Lestrange sign the document and immediately sat down at the bureau, put on his spectacles and, breathing heavily, wrote his name in the correct place. Then it was my turn, so I sat down and signed my name below his.”
“Dr. Armstrong, it wasn’t——”
“Wait,” he said. “Let me finish my story. Miss Lestrange gave Fuller a ten shilling note. He took it as a matter of course, put the note carefully into the case with his spectacles and went away. It had happened before—more than once—there was no doubt about that. I couldn’t help being amused. When Fuller had gone Miss Lestrange handed me the document and told me to read it. I explained to her that it wasn’t necessary for me to read it but she smiled rather mischievously and said, ‘I know that, Doctor. There isn’t much I don’t know about wills—but I think it will interest you’.”
“You read it!” exclaimed Bel.
He nodded. “Yes, and I was rather distressed.”
“Distressed?”
“It wasn’t what I expected,” he explained. “You see I happened to know that she had intended to leave her property to her sister. I knew Mrs. Harding and liked her. She came to Fletchers End when Miss Lestrange was laid up with a bad chill and was very kind and sensible, so naturally I was distressed to discover that Miss Lestrange had changed her mind.”
“Changed her mind!” echoed Bel in bewilderment.
The doctor nodded, “I was sorry about it,” he said.
Bel was completely muddled. She did not know what to say so she went over to the bureau and took the will out of the secret drawer and handed it to Dr. Armstrong without a word.
“What’s this?” he exclaimed in surprise. He unfolded it and added, “Oh, this is a different one.”
“A different will?”
“Entirely different. As you see, this will has been witnessed by Whittaker and old Fuller. I told you that Fuller was quite accustomed to signing his name and getting his ten bob, didn’t I? The will I witnessed was the last she made.”
“The last—she made,” echoed Bel in a faint voice.
“The very last,” declared Dr. Armstrong. “I can tell you that for certain because the poor old lady died the following day.”
“What!” exclaimed Bel.
“It wasn’t really very surprising. She had that curious heart condition, you see, but I felt unhappy about it because I had upset her. She was angry with me and it wasn’t good for her to be angry. I won’t bother you with technicalities, but it was a valvular disease——”
Bel was not interested in technicalities. “Oh Dr. Armstrong, are you sure?” she cried. “Are you positive? Are you absolutely certain?”
“Of course I’m certain,” said the doctor, looking at her in surprise. “What’s the matter, Bel? Is it so important?”
“It’s frightfully important,” she declared. “The last will cancels all the others, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, of course. This document isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”
Bel was silent. She could not have spoken to save her life. The room seemed to be going up and down in an alarming manner. It was making her feel quite sick.
Dr. Armstrong took her arm. “Come and sit down,” he said. “I don’t know what it’s all about, but we had better try to straighten out the tangle.”
She allowed herself to be led to the sofa and they sat down together.
“Now then,” he said, taking her hand and holding it in a firm clasp. “Now then, tell me why it’s so frightfully important.”
Bel moistened her lips, she said: “That will—we found it in the drawer. We thought—we thought it was the last she made.”
“Well, it wasn’t,” declared the doctor. “If you had asked Tennant he could have told you that. Now tell me why it matters. Why is it frightfully important?”
“Because,” said Bel. “Oh Doctor Armstrong, don’t you see? Roy Lestrange sold us Fletchers End . . . but if it didn’t belong to him . . . if it wasn’t his . . .” her voice faltered and stopped.
“Oh, I see!” exclaimed the doctor. “Good heavens, I never thought of that. If the house didn’t really belong to Lestrange he had no right to sell it to you. No wonder you were upset! When did this document come to light?”
“I’ll tell you all about it in a minute, but first——” said Bel breathlessly. “First, please tell me about the other will. You said you read it and you were distressed because the place hadn’t been left to Mrs. Harding, but you didn’t say who——”
“In the will I witnessed Fletchers End was bequeathed to Roy Lestrange—and it was the last. There’s no doubt about that whatever.”
Bel could not speak.
“So you see it’s all right,” he added. “You needn’t worry any more about it, need you?”
Bel tried to answer, tried to thank him, but she could not utter a word.
The doctor put his arm round her shoulders and gave her a big hug. “Buck up!” he said. “It’s all right, I tell you! There’s no need to worry any more. Why, I believe you’re crying, you silly little goose! Here, take my handkerchief—women’s hankies are absolutely useless to mop up tears.”
“So silly of me——” sobbed Bel. “So frightfully silly—but—but the last few days—have been—dreadful. You can’t imagine—how dreadful——”
Dr. Armstrong let her cry. He sat beside her in silence, holding her hand.
It was some little time before Bel was able to pull herself together, but presently she sat up and blew her nose vigorously. “There, I’m better,” she said.
“Good,” said the doctor smiling. “Now you can tell me all about it, can’t you?”
Chapter Forty
There was now no difficulty in telling Dr. Armstrong all that had happened; Bel began at the beginning with the arrival of the bureau at Fletchers End. She told him how the secret drawer had been discovered and how they had found the document which had caused so much trouble and distress, and how she had besought Ellis to burn it—but of course he wouldn’t. She explained how Ellis had taken the will and gone to see Mr. Tennant, but had not been able to see him because he was away from home, so they had just made up their minds that they must wait until he came back, and carry on as usual.
“Waiting is horrible,” said Bel.
“The sword of Damocles.”
“Yes, just like that. I wandered about, I couldn’t settle down to anything, I couldn’t sleep. Ellis was miserable too; you see we both love Fletchers End so terribly much—we couldn’t bear to think of going away and leaving it. This morning was worst of all.”
“Why was it worst of all?”
“Ellis’s little rose-bushes arrived and I went out to see them being planted.”
“Quite unbearable,” said the doctor nodding understandingly.
“Yes, quite unbearable,” agreed Bel with a little sigh.
It was now Dr. Armstrong’s turn to take up the story. There were all sorts of things Bel wanted to know.
“You told me Miss Lestrange was angry with you,” she said. “Why was she angry?”
“Because I spoke my mind. I told you that I was distressed when I read the will and saw she had left the house to her nephew. I said, ‘Bu
t I thought you intended to leave your property to Mrs. Harding!’ I shouldn’t have said it of course—it was no business of mine—but I said it without thinking.”
“It was unreasonable of her to be angry,” declared Bel. “She told you to read the will, so——”
“She was a very unreasonable woman,” Dr. Armstrong replied. “I knew that, so it was foolish of me to say it and to tell you the truth I still feel uncomfortable about it; I still regret those foolish words. Doctors should never speak without thinking.”
He paused for a moment and then continued, “She was furious with me—absolutely furious. She said she supposed she could do what she liked with her own property! Dora hadn’t been near her for months—she had gone to Guernsey for the winter with her nincompoop of a son. She said that the only member of the family who had taken the trouble to come and see her at Christmas was Roy—and if she wanted Roy to have Fletchers End when she was dead and buried it was her affair and nobody else’s. She said, ‘Roy is a Lestrange. He may not be an angel, but he has got some spunk in him.’
“I tried to pacify her but it was useless, she became angrier than ever and exclaimed, ‘If I leave the place to Dora it will belong to Leslie when she dies—there isn’t a doubt of that! Do you think I want Fletchers End to belong to that miserable little worm?’
“At last I managed to soothe her down. I apologised for what I had said and agreed that it wasn’t my business. Her rages were furious while they lasted but fortunately they never lasted long. I was alarmed because it was the worst thing for her to get excited and I was annoyed with myself for having made such a gaffe. I talked to her about other things—I forget what—and after a bit she recovered and seemed quite like her normal self. All the same I was worried, so I advised her to take a sedative and go to bed. I said I would look in and see her in the morning. So then she smiled quite amicably and said, ‘Yes, Doctor, come and see me. Perhaps I shall be in a better humour to-morrow morning.’ There was something very nice about Miss Lestrange in spite of her fiery temper,” added Dr. Armstrong with a sigh.
Bel made no comment and after a moment’s silence he continued his story.
“I was just going away when she called me back and asked me to post her will, so I waited while she put it in an envelope and addressed it to Tennant. ‘Don’t forget to post it,’ she said as she gave it to me. ‘It’s very important that he should get it safely.’”
“As if you would forget!” exclaimed Bel indignantly.
“She was like that,” said the doctor smiling. “She told people what to do and expected them to do it straight off. Some people resented her arrogant manner but it didn’t worry me.”
“So you posted it for her.”
“No, I didn’t. She had said it was important and in my opinion it was much too important to be posted in a pillar-box—without being registered—so I took it to Tennant’s office then and there and gave it into his own hands. As a matter of fact it was after five and he was just going away, but he took me into his room for a chat. I like Tennant, we’ve always been friends. When he saw the will he said, ‘Oh, she’s signed it, has she? I thought she might change her mind.’ I said it was a pity that the place wasn’t being left to Mrs. Harding, and he laughed and said, ‘Don’t worry, she may get it yet.’ Then he told me that exactly the same thing had happened before; she had been annoyed with Mrs. Harding for some reason or other and had made a will in favour of her nephew—cutting out Mrs. Harding altogether—and then, a few days later, she had come to his office and torn it up.
“‘And made another will in favour of Mrs. Harding?’ I suggested. I was rather amused to tell you the truth. ‘Oh yes, of course,’ said Tennant gloomily. I told him I saw no reason for him to be gloomy about it, as of course he must be making quite a good thing out of the old lady’s wills. I said it as a joke, but he didn’t laugh. He said it worried him. ‘It’s a sort of game to her,’ he said, ‘but it isn’t a game to me. She’s got that other will somewhere in the house—goodness knows where! I did my best to make her give it to me to keep safely for her but she wouldn’t.’ Then he said, ‘It’s all very well for you to laugh but perhaps you don’t realise that if Miss Lestrange had died suddenly I should have had to ransack the house to find it. I’ve had to do that before, for another client, and believe me it wasn’t a pleasant job.’
“I said, ‘But it’s all right now, isn’t it?’
“‘Oh yes,’ he agreed. ‘This will cancels the other.’ He put it in his safe and added, ‘The other will isn’t worth twopence, but all the same I should like to have it—or else see it torn up. It isn’t a sound thing to have stray wills knocking about the place. It’s apt to cause trouble.’”
“He was right, wasn’t he?” exclaimed Bel who had been listening with rapt attention.
“Yes, he was right,” agreed Dr. Armstrong. “I see that now. At the time I thought he was being too particular—and I said so. He replied that he liked things done properly and added very emphatically that anyhow he wasn’t going to let the new will out of his clutches until he got hold of the old one . . . ‘But you can’t reason with that woman,’ he said.
“I knew that only too well,” added the doctor ruefully.
“What happened next?” asked Bel.
“Oh, nothing much,” he replied. “I remember I gave Tennant a lift home and we chatted about Miss Lestrange and the difficulties of dealing with her vagaries. Tennant said she was more trouble than all his other clients put together.”
*
2
Dr. Armstrong paused in his story—he thought he had told Bel all that was necessary—but Bel wanted more.
“You said Miss Lestrange died the next day, didn’t you?” asked Bel.
“Yes,” replied Dr. Armstrong sadly. “Yes, she died the next morning. The housekeeper rang me up early in the morning and said Miss Lestrange seemed very ill. I went at once of course and found the old lady unconscious with a very weak and erratic pulse. I gave her an injection, but there was no response to the treatment so I sat down beside her bed and waited. Presently she stirred and opened her eyes and said, ‘Dora!’ She said it urgently as if she were calling to her sister. I bent over her and said, ‘You want Dora, don’t you? You want Dora to come. I’ll send for her at once.’
“She said it again quite clearly—‘Dora!’ Then she relapsed into unconsciousness and died a few minutes later.”
“Oh, Dr. Armstrong!” exclaimed Bel looking at him with wide horrified eyes. “Do you think she was sorry? Do you think she had changed her mind?”
Dr. Armstrong had thought just that, but he was too wise to say so. “We can’t tell, can we?” he said. “Perhaps she just wanted to see her sister. I think Mrs. Harding was the only person in the world she was really fond of.”
“You thought Mrs. Harding should have got Fletchers End, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I told you that. You can understand my point of view, can’t you, Bel? It seemed better that the house should belong to someone who would live in it and enjoy it rather than to a young naval officer who had no use for it at all. Afterwards whenever I happened to pass the place and saw the old house standing empty, getting more and more shabby—all the paint peeling off the woodwork and the gate falling to pieces and the garden a wilderness of weeds—I felt guilty. I felt as if I were to blame. I felt as if I ought to have been able to do something about it—but of course I couldn’t have done anything, really. As Tennant said she wasn’t the sort of woman who would listen to advice. All the same it made me feel sad.”
“You don’t feel sad now, do you?” asked Bel anxiously.
“No, of course not,” declared the doctor smiling at her very kindly. “I feel very happy and the house is happy too. You mustn’t worry about Mrs. Harding.”
“I can’t help feeling a little worried. I feel Mrs. Harding has a right to the house. I mean it was her home——”
“You needn’t feel worried about that,” he told her. “Mrs. Harding ha
sn’t a shadow of right to the place. It was left to Roy Lestrange, and you and Ellis bought it, so it belongs to you—and nobody else.”
“Yes, but perhaps Miss Lestrange would have——”
“Bel, listen. Miss Lestrange didn’t want Leslie Harding to have Fletchers End. It’s obvious from what she said to me that she disliked him intensely and I’m pretty certain that was the reason she didn’t leave it to his mother.”
For a few moments Bel was silent. She, herself, had liked Mr. Harding, but she realised that he was not the sort of man who would appeal to a woman like Miss Lestrange. No, thought Bel, Miss Lestrange would have no use for weaklings, no sympathy for people who were unable to stand up for themselves and hold their own. She would rather have a man like Roy Lestrange who knew what he wanted and took it—yes, a pirate, thought Bel. All the pieces in the puzzle were falling into place and soon the whole picture would be complete.
“And another thing,” continued Dr. Armstrong. “You must remember that a will is a legal document; the executors are bound to carry out its instructions to the letter, no matter what they think, no matter how unreasonable the instructions may seem to them. ‘Theirs not to reason why,’” he added with a little smile.
“Wills are terrifying, aren’t they?” said Bel in thoughtful tones. “I wonder how many people would regret what they had put in their wills if they knew what happened after they were dead.”
“Quite a lot, I should think.”
“If Miss Lestrange could have seen Fletchers End all falling to pieces——”
“I know,” agreed the doctor. “But fortunately that doesn’t concern us, so we needn’t worry about it. The place was bequeathed to Roy Lestrange—and that’s that.”
Dr. Armstrong did not stay much longer; he said Lou would be wondering where he was and what he was doing.
Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2) Page 29