You seem to refer to this in your last sentence. "The Lion devoured the Fox and took the Fox's fortune instead." This is obviously a prediction and not a fact, otherwise you could not have written to me, but I strongly question how acknowledging me as your only grandchild can shift this prediction in your favor. I fear it will do the exact opposite and force your son into precipitate action. In view of the fact that I have no interest at all in your or your wife's money-and have no wish to confront your son over it-I suggest it would be infinitely wiser to seek the advice of your solicitor, Mark Ankerton, in respect of putting the money beyond your son's reach.
Without wishing to be offensive, I see no reason at all why you should allow yourself to be "devoured" so tamely, nor why I should be proposed as a stalking horse.
Yours sincerely,
Nancy Smith
Nancy Smith (Captain, Royal Engineers)
30 November 2001
Dear Nancy,
Please think no more about it. Everything you say is completely justified. I wrote in a moment of depression and used emotive language that was unforgivable. I did not wish in any way to give you the impression that you would be in confrontation with Leo. Mark has constructed a will that honors my obligations to my family while giving the bulk of the estate to worthy causes. It was an old man's foolish whim and arrogance that wanted the "family silver" to pass intact to family.
I fear my last letter may have given you a false impression of both myself and Leo. Inadvertently I may have suggested that I am perceived in warmer terms than he. This is far from the truth. Leo is extraordinarily charming. I, by contrast-indeed Ailsa, too, when she was alive-are (were) rather shy people who appear stiff-necked and pompous in company. Until recently I would have said that our friends perceived us differently, but the isolation in which I now find myself has shattered my confidence. With the honorable exception of Mark Ankerton, suspicion, it seems, is more easily attracted than dispelled.
You pose the question: How will acknowledging you as my only grandchild benefit me?
My wife was always a believer in giving people second chances-the "mending of ways" that you referred to-and I believe she also hoped that recognition of our grandchild would persuade our son to rethink the future. Since hearing from you, I have decided to abandon this plan. It was a selfish attempt to keep the estate intact, and took no account at all of your love and loyalty to your rightful family.
You are an admirable and wise young woman with a marvelous future ahead of you, and I wish you long life and happiness. As the money is of no interest to you, nothing can be gained by involving you in my family's difficulties.
Be confident that your identity and whereabouts will remain a secret between Mark and myself, and that you will under no circumstances feature in any legal documents relating to this family.
With gratitude for your response and the warmest good wishes for whatever comes your way in life,
James Lockyer-Fox
6
SHENSTEAD MANOR-CHRISTMAS EVE TO
BOXING DAY, 2001
Ankerton's faith that James Lockyer-Fox would never have harmed his wife was under assault on all sides, not least from James himself. True, Mark had forced his presence in the house, refusing to accept the Colonel's cool assurances that he was quite able to face his first Christmas alone in nearly fifty years, but James's secretive behavior and inability to carry a conversation for more than a few minutes were deeply worrying to his lawyer.
He wouldn't look Mark in the eye, and there were tremors in his hands and voice. His weight had decreased alarmingly. Always meticulous about his appearance in the past, he had become dirty and unkempt, with straggly hair, stained clothes, and patches of silver stubble on his chin. To Mark, for whom the Colonel had always been an authoritative figure, such a dramatic change in physical and mental strength was shocking. Even the house smelled of dirt and decay, and Mark wondered if Vera Dawson had compounded her legendary laziness by ceasing to work at all.
He blamed himself for not having come down since August, when he'd delivered Nancy Smith's verdict to the old man. At the time James had taken it well and had instructed Mark to draw up a will that would result in the breakup of the Lockyer-Fox estate with only minimum bequests going to his two children. It had remained unsigned, however, with James sitting on the draft document for months, apparently reluctant to take what he perceived as an irrevocable step. When urged over the telephone to voice his concerns, his only answer had been an angry one: "Stop harassing me. I still have my faculties. I'll make the decision in my own good time."
Mark's worries had increased a few weeks back when an answerphone had suddenly appeared on the Manor line, as if James's naturally reclusive nature now extended to a ban on all access. Letters, which had previously been dealt with by return, went unanswered for days. On the few occasions when James bothered to return Mark's calls, his voice had sounded remote and indifferent, as if the affairs of the Lockyer-Fox estate no longer interested him. He excused his lack of enthusiasm on grounds of tiredness. He wasn't sleeping well, he said. Once or twice, Mark had asked him if he was depressed, but each time the question was greeted with tetchiness. "There's nothing wrong with my mind," James had said, as if it were something he feared nevertheless.
Certainly Mark had feared it, hence his insistence on this visit. He had described James's symptoms to a doctor friend in London, who told him they sounded like full-blown depression or post-traumatic stress disorder. These were normal reactions to unbearable situations: avoidance of social contact-withdrawal from responsibility-listlessness-insomnia-anxiety about incompetence-anxiety, full stop. Use your imagination, his friend had advised. Anyone of the Colonel's age would suffer loneliness and distress when his wife died, but to be suspected of killing her and questioned about it…? It was delayed shock. When had the poor old fellow been given a chance to grieve?
Mark had arrived on Christmas Eve, armed with advice about bereavement counseling and the ability of mild doses of antidepressants to lift the mood and restore optimism. But he had prepared himself for sadness, and sadness was absent. Talk of Ailsa only made James angry.
"The woman's dead," he snapped on one occasion. "Why this need to resurrect her?" On another: "She should have dealt with her estate herself instead of passing the buck to me. It was pure cowardice. Nothing was ever gained by giving Leo a second chance." An inquiry about Henry, Ailsa's elderly Great Dane, brought an equally curt response. "Died of old age. Best thing for him. He was always mooching around trying to find her."
Mark's contribution to the holiday was a hamper from Harrods after his doctor friend told him that depression didn't eat. The truth of that was starkly obvious when he opened the fridge to store his brace of pheasant, pate de foie gras, and champagne. No wonder the old man had lost so much weight, he thought, eyeing the empty shelves. The freezer in the scullery was fairly well stocked with meat and frozen vegetables, but thick layers of frost suggested most of it had been put there by Ailsa. Announcing that he needed bread, potatoes, and dairy products, even if James didn't, he drove to the Dorchester Tesco's before it closed for the holiday and stocked up on essentials-throwing in detergents, bleach, shampoo, soap, and shaving equipment for good measure.