WHAT HARGREAVES KNEW

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 68, Issue 27, 12 November 1947, Page 7

WHAT HARGREAVES KNEW

Serial Story

By REGINALD TEMPLE j

(Copyright). |

CHAPTER 11. THE “HEIRS” It followed, therefore, to-day as before, that a number of eager eyes were always cast on the Fairfield who had reached his declining years. The expectant legatees of the present Sir John were four, though this, was excluding any caprice on the part of Sir John,* who might have left his money to some institution or to some stranger unknown to the family. So far, however, no Fairfield had disappointed his expectant relatives, and it was not thought that Sir John would break away from the family rule. Nevertheless, to be an expectant legatee of Sir John Fairfield was not to possess peace, for Sir John counted reticence as one of his foremost qualitie.s —he called it a quality—and he would rather have had his tongue clipped by one of his mediaeval ancestors, thftn that lie chould have exposed his mind in so far it concerned the disposition of his wealth. The four parties which were chiefly supposed by the outside world to be concerned with his will were firstly fife nephews, James Farfield and Reuben Gales who were reckoned his prinicipal heirs; the other two were Martha, hie ihalf-sister and Ellen a favourite niece, who had married unfortunately, but was now a widow, and who, it was said, occupied a soft corner in Sir John’s heart. Thus, then, there were four people to whom Sir John’s' death might be an advantage. No one expected that Sir John s money would be divided equally among the four; not that anyone anticipated caprice in Sir John when it came to making his will, but because it was generally known that 'the heir to the title would fare worst, and that in all probability the more respectable Reuben Gales would inherit a share commensurate with his idea of his own righteousness. Reuben Gales was a solicitor in the neighbouring town of Burwell. His proximity to Beggar’s End, therefore, had the advantage of allowing him to pay frequent calls upon his uncle. It Would be difficult to describe Reuben Gales. Perhaps the best way of presenting him would be to apply to him the phrase which an historian once applied to a Victorian statesman, whom he called “a good man in the worst sense of the word. The letter which Sir John had written to James Fairfield, and wliicn he had given Hargreaves to post was not a' pleasant one, although it expressed hospitality. “My dear Jamies.” it ran, “I should be glad for you to come and stay with me at Beggar’s End for a few days, as I think there are several things we might discuss. It is now two yqars since you were here, and I hoped that such a long period mght have made you more sensitive to your responsibilities as heir to the baronetcy of the Fairfields. “From to-day’s newspaper I perceive I have been wrong in such an assumption. However, whilst I am quite willing to attribute this to the failure of age to ap- . preciate youth, I nevertheless, think that it would be to our mutual advantage if you come up here for a short time—if only to avoid the notoriety, pleasant to you, perhaps, but odious to me, which your recent escapade has no doubt brought you. I am, Your Uncle, John Fairfield.” " * * * * *

James Fairfield received his uncle s letter with some amuspment. It was not the first, couched in similar terms, which he had received from his uncle. Nevertheless, he had not been pleased at the mention of his name in the daily papers in connecton with this particular night club, which, whilst harmless, had a reputation derived from its promoters, who were two women, association with whom might hardly have added lustre to the names of many well-born frequenters of their club. The first impulse of James Fairfield —known to everyone as Jimmy, for no one would call him James was to refuse the invitation, but he had two reasons for falling in with his uncles wishes. One was that, despite his peccadilloes, he had a concern lot the family name and gave to his uncle that respect which any well-born youth renders to the senior members of his family. The second reason was that Squire Romaine of Melton Grange had a daughter. Billie Romaine was not exactly, an unusual type of girl. Her kind is to be found fairly frequently in the countryside; a kind belonging to it, a kind usually dressed in the simplest of tailor-made suits, eo often imitated in vain; a kind one meets in country lanes accompanied-„by terriers; a kind in fact, which represents the squire’s daughter of tradition, shorn of the maudlin qualities attributed .o her by the Victorian novelists. So far James Fairfield had met Billie Romaine but twice; yet these two occasions had been sufficient to give Jimmy an interest in Beggar s End which he had never- had before. His last visit was two years ago He replied to his uncle intimating that he would come to Beggar’s End m response to the avuncular summons. This was on the day following the despatch of Sir John Fairfield’s letter which Hargreaves had posted, and upon which he commented a little to Mr Bumpus in the butler’s pantry. Hargreaves went out at five o clock to meet the postman who always blew a Avhistle at the drive gates when collecting letters. He returned when dinner at Beggar’s End was lialf-way through. , _ “Young man,” said Mr Bumpus. “This is the third occasion in two weeks that you have left me to cope with Sir John’s dinner. Not, only that, but I find crests on the dish covers are full of whitening. How often, 1 should like to ask you, have 1 called your attention to that paiticulai point?” , , , „ “Don’t get .worried, old pheasant, replied Hargreaves. “The dish covers don’t go on the table, and though they may be Sir John’s crest, there’s no need for us to polish them to adorn the 'servant’s hall.” “Young man,” said Mr Bumpus—he

always called Hargreaves young—“you would not have spoken like that if you had the honour of serving the Duke of Burneside as I had fifty years ago.” “I wouldn’t mind if you dropped the blinking Duke of Burneside,” retorted Hargreaves, whose manner now was entirely different from that which he had adopted in the presence of Sir John. “I’m sick and tired of his name. If we was all that wonderful I can’t see why you’re not working for him now.” “Dead, dead and gone,” replied Mr Bumpus. “Died of grief by you leaving him, I expect,” said Hargreaves, taking down a key which hung on a nail on the wall, and handing it to Mr Bumpus. “I suppose you will be having your usual dip in Sir John’s Madeira?” lie asked. Mr Bumpus flushed. He was a rotund man with an expanse of face, set off by conventional, mutton-chop whiskers, and his partiality for Madeira amounted to a passion. He bad discovered in the cellars of Beggar’s End a bin of Madeira in a remote corner, which Sir John had apparently overlooked. To him, this bin was a source of delight, and accounted for the winey appearance of Mr Bumpus’s face, and also for the bold which Hargreaves had over him; indeed, the under-butler exerted a kind of blackmail over Bumpus, and although the old man would endeavour to put Hargreaves in his place, he trembled at the thought of the latter giving away the secret of Madeira to Sir John.

Bumpus was of the old school; lie had served this one family so long that to be discredited in the eyes of the reigning Fairfield would have been worse than death itself. Mr Bumpus bade Hargreaves replace the key. “Thank you, but at. the moment I am not in the mood for wine. A fine wine requires a fine mood. As for yourself, young man, I suggest you go down into the cellar and have some beer. As His Grace the Duke of Burneside. used to say to me: ‘A man who drinks beer thinks beer.’ ”

“What you want to do,” said Hargreaves, ignoring tlfe suggestion, “is to hire a ball and give a lecture on the Duke of Burneside —not that, 1 should come, having heard all you’ve got to say about him many times over. However, I’ve got a bit of news for you, old ’un. Mr James-Fairfield is coming to stay here. How does that please you?” _ At the mention of James Fairfield s name, Mr Bumpus’s eyes took on a humid appearance, and he gazed at the ceiling in genuine grief. ' “Dear me, dear me!” lie exclaimed. “I suppose we’re in for another bad time. I’ve never known a Fairfield like him. He has no feeling for the dignity of the name; in fact, Samuel, I call him a young H’ass.” _ “He’s nothing of the sort, said Hargreaves, “though he may appeal so to mouldy old herbs like you and Sir Job ll -” , , , “Young man, you must not speak to me in words like those,” admonishect Mr Bumpus. “You’re forgetting that you’re under-butler and I’m head butler. Your duty is to under-buttle without cheek. Meanwhile, there s them knives to be cleaned.” “And meanwhile 'I noticot. th»s morning that there’s another balf-bot-tie of Madeira gone. I wondei how Sir John would feel if he knew about. “‘“say no nwto, say no more! ’ »M Mi- Bumpus anxiously. “Now, Mr James—l suppose you nn.emhn that last time he was here he vexeir d to my face as resembling a pound ot “There”you are," said Hargreaves. “I told you he wasn’t a fool, and ie --> not. blind, either.” , Mr Bumpus ignored the under-bu - ler’s remark. „„ „ “I’m rather surprised at your newSi he said, “for I didn’t expect Sir John to ask Mr Janies Fairfield here again, but I suppose he has some reason. “Oh, he’s got a reason all right, said Hargreaves, “and a* a mattei h fact he’s told it to me. Mi Jamehas been blackening the family name dreadful!” exclaimed Mr Bumpus. “It’s a great pity Mr James has no more regard for Ins position. What’s he been up that » ■Ah, I’m afraid I can t tell you that said Hargreaves. “You see if I told vou everything- I knew youd he a wi-se man. Sir John confides in me a great d6 “The Fairfields were always eccentric,” remarked Mr Bumpus Sir Jolni is no exception,” after which lie smiled somewhat triumphantly at liaiR “I’ll give you that one,” said Hargreaves < continuing. “Sir John says we have got to treat him a hit colt ev this time, as he’s coming here undei a “He’s always lived under a cloud observed Mr Bumpus “but an what way are we to treat him coldly. 1 suppose you mean that I am not o laugh if he again compares my face with steak?” ■ ■■ ~ “He’s sure to do that, saicl Hargreaves. “Anyhow, you’ll have to treat him different, that’s all I can say; please yourself liow you do it. “It will be very difficult,’ replied Bumpus. “He’s got that slap-you-on-the-back way which confuses one. However, I’m extremely sorry that he is to descend upon us again. I’ve not forgotten the day when he put a rat under the cheese cover—and to think lie’s a man of nearly thirty. He should be past such things. Now take Mr Reuben Gales. Mr Gales is very conscious of his connection with a iamiiy of this kind.” (To be Continued)

The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or private company.