Read Online The Ely Testament by Philip Gooden - Free Book Online Page A

neighbours, who pulled the appropriate faces and uttered the right words but then got on with the business of eating, drinking and chatting.
    There was plenty of port and sherry, as well as tea. Hams, pies, cheeses and cakes were piled high in the dining room and guests wandered between there and the morning room. The women were already at the house, Helen and her mother Mrs Scott and Mrs Mackenzie and others, and pretty soon the rooms were full of noise and even the odd burst of laughter, quickly checked. The cemetery at Abney Park with its burial rites was a distant memory. William Evers cornered Tom by one of the high windows that looked out over the Park. He seemed anxious.
    â€˜I say, do you think I really upset the guv’nor by putting him right about step-brothers and so on? Should’ve kept my mouth shut, I suppose.’
    â€˜I think he enjoyed putting you down, Will. In a good-natured way.’
    â€˜Then I suppose I’m glad to have been a source of pleasure for him.’
    Tom put a hand on Evers’ despondent shoulder and the junior brightened at once. He took another swig of sherry.
    â€˜I hear you are going on confidential business to Ely,’ he said.
    â€˜Not confidential enough, it seems.’
    â€˜Oh dear, another mistake.’
    â€˜No, no,’ said Tom. Yet he was surprised at how quickly things got round an office.
    â€˜You are lucky to be in Mr Mackenzie’s confidence.’
    Tom shrugged. To change the subject, he said, ‘Have you seen Mrs Ernest Lye?’
    â€˜I have indeed,’ said Evers, looking towards an attractive woman on the other side of the morning room. As Ernest Lye was a lot younger than his brother Alexander, then Mrs Lye was in turn appreciably younger than her husband. Will Evers sighed and Tom thought he knew what the matter was.
    â€˜How is Miss Rosamond?’ he said.
    â€˜Thriving and . . . and as beautiful as ever,’ said his friend. ‘I must speak to her father next week. I will speak to him.’
    Miss Rosamond Hartley was the daughter of a doctor. Will Evers had been her admirer for some time now. He thought – he hoped – that his feelings were returned. All that remained was for him to approach Dr Hartley, man to man, and ask permission. Tom had lost count of the number of occasions on which the junior lawyer had stated that he intended to speak to the doctor next week. That ‘next week’ never seemed to arrive.
    â€˜I have sounded her out and think my prospects are good, but I do not know for sure. If only I could have a glimpse of her diary,’ said Will, draining his sherry and then examining the empty glass as though he expected more drink to materialize by magic. ‘Women confide their secret thoughts to their diaries, don’t they? If I saw what she was writing, it would give me some clue as to her real feelings. Then I could call on her father, armed with some ammunition, so to speak.’
    â€˜You must be bold, Will,’ said Tom, thinking that Will might find a message he didn’t like in Miss Rosamond’s diaries. ‘Speak to her father. Really do so next week.’
    â€˜I suppose you’re right. You are a lucky man, Thomas Ansell, to have such a wife as you have.’
    Automatically, Tom looked round for Helen. He noticed that she was talking to Mrs Lye, the wife of Ernest. They were having an animated conversation.
    â€˜I met an author the other day,’ said Will. Tom struggled to catch the connection, then realized that Helen’s reputation as a writer was spreading round the firm, like other things. Will Evers continued, ‘I suppose he wasn’t an author exactly, but a journalist. It was at Willow & Son. Mr Mackenzie had sent me there on business to do with today’s funeral. A fellow who called himself Mute.’
    â€˜Mute?’
    â€˜Not his real name but a pseudonym of course. He writes a column in a periodical called Funereal