Read Online The Silver Falcon by Evelyn Anthony - Free Book Online Page B

please. There will be certain formalities until the will is probated but that shouldn’t present any problem. If there is anything we can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call.’
    Isabel shook hands with him. ‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘Thank you for coming.’ She went to the door with him and called Rogers to see him to his car. She went back into the study. Twenty million. The magnificent house and the stud, all his bloodstock. She didn’t begin to understand the significance of that list of shares. She didn’t feel elated; it suddenly seemed a crushing responsibility. She could do what she liked, travel anywhere, buy anything. And she didn’t want it like that. It gave her the most awful sensation of loneliness. She went out to the hall and the entrance and walked down the steps onto the yellow gravel. It was a bitterly cold, grey day and she shivered. It was all hers. Just three and a half years ago she had come to Beaumont to work for a few weeks, and now it belonged to her. She turned back into the house. And she had made up her mind what must be done.
    â€˜You really mean it, don’t you?’ Richard said. The inevitable glass of whisky was in his hand; he stood in front of the fireplace, warming himself. She had gone to find him as soon as Rogers told her he had returned. He seemed in a mischievous mood, mocking and casual; he had lifted her face by the chin and looked at her. ‘You’re looking mighty grave,’ he said. ‘Lawyers don’t agree with you.’
    â€˜I don’t know how to tell you this,’ Isabel had said. ‘In fact I can’t. You’d better read the will for yourself.’ She watched him carefully, searching for signs of hurt or anger on his face. It was unnaturally smooth and expressionless; not a flicker in the blue eyes or round the mouth. He put the will down and looked at her. There was a slight smile on his lips.
    â€˜There’s nothing I didn’t expect. What’s wrong, Isabel – you look unhappy. You ought to be flattered. It’s quite a testimonial. I never knew he had it in him to love anyone.’
    â€˜I am unhappy,’ she said. ‘It’s a dreadful will. He had no right to cut you out like that. I don’t want the money.’
    Her stepson actually laughed. It was a strange sound. ‘It was his money. He had the right to do what he liked with it. I tell you, if he hadn’t married you he’d have left it to the local dogs’ home before he gave anything to me. Or he’d have given it to our pal Andrew Graham. They were such close friends.’ He drained the whisky down and went to re-fill the glass.
    â€˜I wish you wouldn’t drink like that,’ Isabel said. ‘I know you’re hurt whatever you pretend. You’re his son; he could have given you something as a token, said something affectionate. It’s not the money that matters.’
    â€˜Just the sentiment,’ Richard said. ‘I see. Well the only sentiment he had for me was pure gut loathing. He couldn’t put that in the will.’
    â€˜I want you to have half the estate,’ Isabel said quietly. ‘I was thinking about it this afternoon. And that’s what I want to do. The money isn’t entailed in any way – the lawyer said so. I can do what I like with it. I’m going to make over half to you.’
    And that was when he said it. ‘You really mean it, don’t you?’ He was rocking slightly in the way men have when they’re standing on a curb in front of a fire, with a full glass in their hand.
    â€˜You’d give me ten million dollars, just like that. Because you think my father wasn’t fair to me?’
    â€˜Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m going to call Winter tomorrow and tell him that as soon as the will is probated, I want to transfer half the value to you. Will you take it in stock holdings and maybe some of the