Page 3 of All of Us Murderers

Two

They filed through to a grand dining hall with a table that would seat thirty.

Their party of seven looked decidedly meagre clustered at one end, particularly since there was an eighth place set.

Wynn nodded at the dour footman. “Miss Jessamine may not be joining us tonight. Leave the setting in case she changes her mind, but we will begin.”

“Is that the young lady I saw as I arrived?” Zeb asked.

“That’s right. Your cousin, or first cousin once removed, though we need not split hairs. As it were.” He chuckled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Zeb could feel several people looking daggers at him, but he didn’t trust anyone here to explain matters discreetly at a convenient juncture. “I wasn’t aware I had a young lady cousin. Is she your daughter, Hawley?”

Bram made an explosive noise which Zeb connected too late to the footman who was serving out soup, as if the staff wouldn’t know exactly what was going on.

Hawley had no interest in manners or discretion, but his lip curled anyway. “Of course she is not my daughter. The girl is barely ten years my junior.”

“She’s eighteen, and you’re thirty-five if you’re a day,” Elise pointed out. “I know you like to consider yourself an enfant terrible, but you’re really getting a little past that, don’t you think?”

“Thirty-four. And I’m quite sure a woman’s thirtieth birthday comes before a man’s fortieth.” Hawley delivered that with a smirk.

“That makes no mathematical sense at all,” Bram said.

Hawley clearly felt his aphorism should have received more applause. “How you can presume to comment on Art with your cloddish literality—”

Zeb felt a pang of sympathy for Wynn, unwittingly inviting this mess to his dining table, and for Gideon, not even a Wyckham but stuck here listening to them. “I still don’t understand,” he said, hoping to pull the conversation back on track. “Who is she?”

“It’s a sad story,” Wynn said. “You know I had a sister, Laura. Well, not quite a sister. She was our grandfather’s daughter by his fifth wife, born after his death.”

Zeb worked that out. “So, she was your aunt? My aunt too, I suppose.”

“Indeed, but she and I were born in the same year. My father took full charge of her, and Laura and I were brought up as siblings.”

“Why did your father take charge of her?” Zeb asked. “What happened to her mother? Oh, was that the housemaid?”

Bram harrumphed with annoyance. “Kindly don’t dredge up family history.”

“We’re talking about family history. And I’m sure Walter Wyckham’s last wife was his housemaid: I remember Father complaining about it.”

“Yes, he was nearly eighty when love’s young dream struck him in the servants’ quarters. Senility is a marvellous thing,” Hawley remarked.

“So why did—”

“There is no need to pry,” Bram said over him. “For heaven’s sake, hold your tongue.”

“Not at all,” Wynn said. “There is no mystery about it: simply, Laura’s mother was of low birth and weak mind, not fit to live independently.

Laura and I were inseparable growing up, but at sixteen she had a love affair.

The passion of youth. My father had her removed from the house when the consequences of her error became visible.

He took her away, and he told me she was dead. ”

Wynn stopped there. Zeb could see his throat working for a moment before he went on.

“He told me that cruel lie, and he gave her a small allowance to live on with her daughter so long as she did not contact me. Thus he kept us apart, until just a few weeks before his death. He said she had brought shame to the family, that she and her mother were a stain on our name. Well, let him think that. He died at last, I became master here, and my Laura returned to her home. She is there, look.”

Zeb turned to follow his gesture, and was relieved to see he meant a painting. It showed the same woman as in the other paintings. She was elegantly dressed and wore a distinctly smug smile.

Wynn gazed at the portrait for a moment, eyes focused on the past, then sighed. “Our reunion was too short. All Walter’s children were to die before fifty, and Laura was no exception to that. She died only a handful of years after her return.”

“What a shame,” Elise said, with glacial insincerity.

“It’s a very sad story,” Zeb added, because he felt rather bad for Wynn, his voice throbbing with feeling while nobody around the table cared. “I’m still not sure about the young lady?”

Wynn nodded. “Laura’s daughter, your cousin Georgina, had come with her, of course, and we put her into what I believed to be an excellent school.

But it proved sadly lax. The girls were allowed a great deal too much freedom, and as a consequence, a plausible rogue was able to insinuate himself into her trust.” He glanced at Elise.

“I wouldn’t wish to insult a lady by speaking of matters that would defile unsullied ears. ”

Someone in the room inhaled, a tiny indrawn breath that was all too audible. Elise wore a smile as bright and sparkling as her diamonds but without their authenticity. “How very kind, dear Wynn,” she said, her voice a musical chime.

“Very kind indeed,” Hawley added. “But you need not mind Elise. I dare say she’ll survive a touch of impropriety.”

Bram’s nostrils flared. Elise’s expression didn’t falter.

Wynn said, “Then I shall not scruple. This villain, whose identity I was never able to discover, took ruthless advantage of Georgina, and she bore a child, though she was just a girl herself still. She was…troubled, afterwards, and took her own life. The child she bore is Jessamine.”

“That’s terrible,” Zeb said. “I am most awfully sorry. I had no idea about this.”

“None of us did,” Hawley said. “It seems Wynn kept this offshoot of the family tree entirely secret, even from Bram. That must have come as a shock.”

“To you all, I dare say,” Elise said. “Naturally you would all be distressed at the spawning of illegitimate children.”

Bram’s jaw twitched. Hawley’s mouth hardened to a sneer. Zeb couldn’t help glancing down at Gideon. He was eating his soup with the expression of someone who wasn’t listening and might not have been there at all.

“I kept her secret, yes,” Wynn said, ignoring the byplay.

“I kept her safe. My Laura’s daughter had her innocence abused in my care, and I determined that I would not fail Jessamine as I had Georgina.

I have had her brought up in the most careful circumstances, protected both from predators and from those who would scorn her birth. ”

“You are generous, sir,” Bram said. “It is inevitable that the stain of her origins will attach to her, but I hope all of us will treat her with the pity her unfortunate situation must demand.”

“I am glad you are so thoughtful,” Wynn said. “But I want more for her than pity. Yes, her birth is stained. I intend to remedy that.”

“How?” Zeb asked.

“By marriage, of course. Finding her a husband.”

That gave the table pause. Zeb realised he’d forgotten all about his soup, and it must be getting cold. He sipped it. It was probably mulligatawny, but regrettably underseasoned.

“Well, that is very thoughtful,” Bram said. “Some decent young fellow who will overlook her origins: an artisan or clerk, perhaps. You intend to give her a sum to marry on, I suppose? Of course, we have discussed the needs of the house—”

“Indeed we have, very often,” Wynn said composedly. “And this brings me to the reason for this gathering. I summoned you all together with the intention of discussing the disposition of my fortune.”

“Indeed,” Bram said. “Yes, indeed.”

“I am unmarried, childless, and Walter Wyckham’s legacy rests heavy on my shoulders.

He, of course, was generous to his younger sons in his will.

” He glanced between Zeb, whose father had received a tidy sum and stewarded it well, and Hawley, whose father had blown the lot on the horses.

“I do not intend to divide my fortune. Lackaday House is not cheap to maintain, and with the world going downhill as it is, its inheritor will need every penny. Bram has persuaded me that I should keep the estate—house and money—intact.”

“I’m quite sure he has,” Hawley said viciously.

“The necessity is clear to any man of moderate acumen,” Bram said. “With the rising cost of living, it is imperative the property should not be fragmented.”

“And that’s up to you, is it? Up to you, and going to you?”

“It is Wynn’s decision. But I am the next of Walter’s grandchildren,” Bram said. “Naturally, I follow Wynn in the line of succession.”

“We’re not monarchs,” Hawley retorted. “And you may believe that inheritance goes by ‘winner takes all’—”

“The winner will take all,” Wynn said. “The estate will be kept in one piece, no matter to whom I bequeath it.”

“Of course,” Elise said. “And you have named Bram as your heir. That has been understood for years.”

“But I never made a formal arrangement,” Wynn returned. “And I have recently concluded that I should reconsider.”

Bram was going a rather unhealthy shade of red. “What is this? We have discussed this, Wynn, often. You told me I was to inherit. I am the eldest.”

“You care greatly about that,” Wynn said. “But why should I exclude Zebedee simply because he is younger?”

Elise gave a cold smile. “Perhaps because Bram has shown his dedication to Lackaday House for years, whereas Zebedee is quite useless.”

“Marital support, Elise?” Hawley drawled. “You must be worried. Wynn, do I take it from my presence here that I am in this newly opened field?”

Wynn gave him a look that was hard to read. “I was not fond of your father. He was a nasty, spiteful boy who became a vicious man. But I must ask myself, is it fair to judge you on that basis?”

Bram was looking rather red around the neck. “Of course it is. This is absurd. You chose me as your inheritor years ago, with the well-being of the house and its future in mind—”

“Did I, though?” Wynn asked. “Did I really consider each of you on your merits, or was I swayed by your father’s arguments in your favour, and my dislike of Hawley’s father? Can that be right?”

“Of course it was right. Hawley is as debauched as his father, and Zebedee an idle wastrel. The circumstances demand frankness,” Bram added over both men’s strong protests.

“We are talking of Lackaday House’s future.

Hawley’s appalling career speaks for itself, and I regret to say that Zebedee has recently been dismissed from yet another post in disgrace.

He is incapable of holding a position of trust.”

The fraternal treachery was jaw-dropping, even from Bram. “That is utterly unfair. I was not dismissed for any wrongdoing,” Zeb protested.

“I had the news from Purefoy. Do you claim he lied?”

“If he said it was for wrongdoing, yes!”

“What were you sacked for, then?” Bram demanded.

“Well, gross incompetence,” Zeb had to admit. He didn’t want to look at Gideon, to see his face at the news of yet another dismissal, another failure. “But—”

“Quite,” Bram said heavily. “Quite. Look at the state of you. You are a scarecrow. You cannot hold a position, even as a mere clerk with no prospect of advancement—”

“Can we just recall why I have old clothes and no prospects?” Zeb said furiously. “Why I’m a mere clerk?”

“Oh, not this again,” Elise said, light and deadly. “Do stop complaining.”

“You had every chance to make something of yourself, and you have failed. Whereas what Hawley has made of himself is…” Bram raised a scornful brow.

“I am an Artist,” Hawley said. “I have made my name—the family name—as a creator, not a pettifogging, spiteful critic who sneers at other men’s work because he has no talent of his own.”

“You are a dauber of paint, at best. Your latest exhibition—”

“You killed that!” Hawley shouted. “You and your damned patronising review and your clique of damned patronising friends with their hidebound, tedious, classical views. You will not keep your stranglehold on Art forever.”

“Art, art, art,” Elise said with disdain. “Goodness, you do go on about it.”

“Your artistic judgement extends to deciding whether a painting matches your dress,” Hawley snarled. “And whence this sudden loyalty to your husband? I don’t recall you demonstrating much of that before!”

Zeb had no fondness for his family, but this display was intolerable. He looked away from Bram’s red face and Hawley’s glittering eyes and Elise’s anger, to the other end of the party.

Colonel Dash seemed, if anything, amused, mouth curved under his heavy moustache. Gideon’s mouth was twisted in a sneer, and his eyes snapped to Zeb’s as though he felt him watching, with a look of such contemptuous disdain it struck him like a physical shock.

He recoiled just as Wynn put an end to the accelerating family row by slamming his hand on the table.

“That is enough! Stop it at once. At once, all of you! Dear me.” He mopped his brow. “I understand feelings run high, and I must forgive it, in the circumstances. I dare say I carry much of the blame for leaving matters undecided so long.”

“They are decided!” Bram shouted. “I am your heir!”

Wynn carried on as if he hadn’t heard. “But I have Lackaday House to consider, and my unfortunate Jessamine in need of safe harbour. I have thought long and hard about how to proceed. This visit from you all will resolve the matter.”

“Resolve it how?” Elise demanded.

Wynn looked around the table. “It is very simple. One of you shall marry Jessamine, and have my fortune with her.”

“What?” Colonel Dash barked. Bram gaped. Hawley gave a wolfish smile. Elise said, “But you promised it to Bram!”

“What if she doesn’t want to marry any of us?” Zeb asked.

“You have all been invited to stay so you can get to know her and she you. If she does not wish to marry any of you after that, I shall not force her, but I am determined the estate will remain in the family. Jessamine will choose one of you, or she may decline, in which case I shall make my choice among you all. Whichever it is, that man will have every penny.”

“But—!” Bram, Elise, Hawley, and Zeb all said, at different but urgent pitches.

Wynn lifted a hand commandingly for silence. From the door, the burly footman marched forward. The master of Lackaday House looked around at the table and said, “Has everyone had enough soup?”