Chapter 29
Lydia
…furthermore, I leave my younger sister Ophelia my shares in the Beaufort Companies. In the event of my death, she is to take over as Creative Director and Chair of the Board of Directors until my children have completed their education.
As Ophelia reads, I clap my hand to my mouth. My aunt rubs her eyes as if she can’t believe what’s written there in Mum’s will.
“That’s not all,” Ophelia says, handing it to me.
The fingers of my free hand are digging into Graham’s leg.
He’s sitting beside me in the conservatory, with an arm around my shoulders.
He gives me a quick squeeze as I take this letter written by my mother, my hand shaking.
I scan through the will until I get to the part Ophelia just read out.
When I see my name, I lift the paper higher.
I, Cordelia Beaufort, hereby declare my daughter, Lydia Beaufort, and my son, James Beaufort, to be my joint heirs, with equal shares in the inheritance. May they always believe in themselves and make their visions into reality.
There’s a huge lump in my throat. “I don’t believe it,” I whisper. “She left me a stake. James and me.”
“Because she believed in you,” Graham says gently.
Tears well up in my eyes, making Mum’s words swim on the page. I hastily hand the letter back to James, who’s sitting on my right, and who has been amazingly quiet this whole time.
“I can’t believe she kept this thing,” Ophelia whispers, stroking the jewelry box with her fingers. “I gave it to her for her thirteenth birthday.”
I swallow. “If she hid this will this carefully, that must mean…” I begin, my voice worried.
“That the other one is a fake,” James says, finishing the sentence. “The will that named Dad as sole heir to the firm.”
“Cordelia’s will was officially filed,” Ophelia points out. “I was there when Clive Allen read it. Everything was done properly.”
“But this will wasn’t certified by Clive Allen,” Graham says suddenly, pointing with a frown to the paper I’m holding. “Look, it says Fergus Wright.”
James and I exchange glances.
“He used to be our lawyer,” my brother says slowly. “And our grandparents’ too. He died a few years ago, which is when they went over to Allen.” He laughs incredulously. “I can’t believe this.”
“What?” I ask, wiping my eyes.
“The night Mum died, Percy drove Dad over to Allen’s. He said he needed help and asked him to keep it quiet. They must have faked the will then.”
I gasp. “Do you think Dad knew Mum wouldn’t leave Beaufort’s to him?”
Ophelia gets up from the rattan chair she’s been sitting in the whole time. “He must have suspected it, at least.”
I glance at James. He looks just as stunned by the situation as I am.
“But…if Mum knew all along that she was going to leave Ophelia the firm one day, why didn’t she stop Dad from freezing her out like that?” James muses.
“Because she wanted to protect me,” says Ophelia quietly. She tucks a strand of her rusty red hair behind her ear and swallows. “I need to call my own lawyer. He can make sure that the correct will comes into force.”
I reach for my brother’s hand just as he reaches for mine. We cling to each other as she makes the call. I think we both realize that we need to stick together now, closer than ever before.
James
Lydia is wearing a black skirt suit that makes her look startlingly similar to Mum. We’ve all dressed for the occasion, Ophelia in a mint-green shift dress, and me in a Beaufort’s suit.
It takes a while for Dad’s personal assistant to meet us and invite us to follow her up. She holds the door for us, and we troop, one by one, into his office. An oppressive feeling grips my chest at the sight of my father.
“To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he mocks. He doesn’t even bother to get up from behind his desk.
Ophelia walks across the room with a casual air I’ve never seen before. At this moment, it’s like she has the upper hand. She probably knows that this is the only way to get through to Dad.
“We need to talk, Mortimer,” she says, sitting down at his desk. Lydia sits on the other chair. I stand behind her, leaning on the back of it.
Dad looks to and fro between us and our aunt. I can’t read his face. Does he know what’s coming?
“We found this,” Ophelia says, opening her black briefcase. She pulls out a copy of Mum’s will and pushes it over the desktop to my father.
I’m watching his facial expression very closely. First, he blinks in confusion. The next moment, all the blood drains from his cheeks. He pulls the copy closer and scans through it.
“And what is this supposed to be?” he asks, looking up.
“That is my sister’s will,” Ophelia replies calmly. “Which raises the question of exactly what it was that was read back in December.”
Dad’s left eye starts to twitch. He raises his hand and smooths it over his gelled hair. Then he swallows hard and narrows his lips.
That pretty much says it all. But I need certainty.
“Did you fake Mum’s will, Dad?” I ask, surprising myself with the ice-cold emotionlessness of my voice.
My father looks at me. He opens his mouth and shuts it again. He seems to be lost for words.
“I asked you a question.” I look more closely at Dad. There are fine beads of sweat on his forehead now, even though his face is still as white as chalk. “Did you falsify Mum’s will so that you could take over at Beaufort’s?”
“I had no choice,” he says in the end.
Lydia inhales sharply. Meanwhile I’m gripping the back of her chair so hard that the leather squeaks under my fingers.
“Why is that?” I ask, deliberately coolly.
My father looks first at Lydia and then at me. “I didn’t slave away for this company my whole life just to be left empty-handed in the end.”
“The only reason Cordelia didn’t leave you a stake in it is that she knew exactly how greedy you are,” Ophelia says firmly.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!
” Dad hisses. His fists are clenched, the knuckles standing out white.
“We always had a plan that we worked toward together. The twins were to go to Oxford, and then James was to take over the firm. We needed a structure, a strategy—and then she started wanting to bring you back on board, when I’d got rid of you years ago. It took ages to talk her out of that.”
I can’t believe the way he’s talking about our family—about Mum.
“Then keeping me out of the main company wasn’t Cordelia’s idea at all,” Ophelia says slowly.
“Of course not. Your sister always found it hard to see things through. Unlike Cordelia, I had a vision for Beaufort’s. And you were in my way.”
Lydia’s shoulders are tensing more and more.
I can feel that she desperately wants to get up and leave the room, probably so that she can preserve the last few good memories she has of Dad.
I feel the same. But at the same time, I know we have to do this.
It’s the only way we can face the future without it hanging over us.
“So why did you want to chain me to the company at all costs?” I ask.
Dad snorts. “Because you always did as you were told. Because it just took a bit of force to keep you on track. It would have been better for me, and for the firm, to have you filling Cordelia’s place, and not someone with a will of their own, constantly trying to interfere.”
Despite everything Dad’s done to me over the years, I feel a painful stab in the chest as his words get through to me.
They show me that he never saw me as anything but a means to his own success. They show me how little he must love Lydia and me.
And although I’d thought I was done with Dad a long time ago, something inside me rips as his eyes meet mine.
“You’re a disgrace to the family, Mortimer,” Ophelia says, deadly quiet. “You’re not fit to stand in Cordelia’s shoes.”
He has nothing to say to that.
“Aren’t you even a tiny bit ashamed, Dad?” Lydia asks, her voice shaking.
“I only did what I thought was right.”
“Then your moral compass is seriously warped,” she retorts.
“Mum would be ashamed of you if she could see you like this,” I add.
“This is all well and good, but I can’t help wondering what you’re intending to do with this information.
” He raises an eyebrow, but his supercilious look has lost its power.
It’s as though the image I’ve always had of my father has finally shattered and I’m now seeing the reality that was hidden behind his facade.
I can see his true self—and it’s not a pretty sight.
Why the hell did I keep believing in him for so long?
“We have a range of options now, Mortimer,” Ophelia says. “The first is for you to resign and leave me to run the firm. The way Cordelia intended.”
The room is filled with silence. I see the cogs whirring behind Dad’s eyes.
“I’m afraid I can’t agree to that,” he says after half a minute.
“Fine. Well, in that case, my lawyer will begin proceedings to get the original will recognized. He has already spoken to Clive Allen, who is prepared to testify against you in return for us not pressing charges against him. He’ll say that you blackmailed him into reading the falsified will.
Given the evidence against you, your chances of winning the case are pretty much zero, Mortimer.
And you can imagine what will happen once the press gets wind of it. ”
Dad lowers his gaze to the desk. He swallows hard and relaxes his hands until they’re lying flat on the dark blue top. When he looks up again, I’m ready for anything. To fight him, if need be. But he looks at Lydia and then at me, and I almost think I can see something like remorse in his face.
“I’d be glad if we could keep the media out of this,” he says in the end.
At this moment I know: We’ve won.