A Rather Lovely Inheritance by C. A. Belmond Read Free Book Online Page B

cocked his head as if considering a serious offer. “I don’t believe I’m her type,” he said thoughtfully. “No yacht for her birthday parties.” He grinned. “Well, I’m off. See you at nine. Don’t be tardy,” he couldn’t resist warning. He shut the door softly behind him.
    I glanced at the clock, which was an ornate gold affair on the marble mantelpiece, with a round mother-of-pearl dial surrounded by some sculpted, vaguely Grecian figures. He was right.There wasn’t much time. I’d slept very well in my elegant bed. I headed for the shower.The water pressure was good, and it beat some sense into my head. Or perhaps it was just that once Jeremy was gone I was able to resume thinking clearly again. In any case, it occurred to me that I’d failed to ask him a crucial question: What did Great-Aunt Penelope bequeath to us?
    Furthermore, I thought, rubbing myself fiercely with the plush cream-colored towel, Jeremy hadn’t volunteered the information. Maybe there was some legal rule about not spilling the beans before the reading of the will. Or maybe, with that European finesse, he’d been waiting for me to broach the subject, and then he’d have told me. Perhaps I’d already failed my first exam, to test how smart and grown-up I was.Then I told myself that Jeremy and his parents always made you feel inferior; the trick was not to get all tongue-tied and klutzy.
    Luckily I’d packed my killer silk suit, black and expensive and, for once, perfectly fitted to me, making me look slim and actually even ruthless. I keep it for emergencies. And an ivory silk scoop-neck blouse under it, very nice, and those high, sharp black pumps. New pair of good stockings in a package I now busted open for this occasion. And a good Italian leather handbag I’d picked up at a special price that made it affordable. A marvellous old makeup lady I once worked with years ago taught me how to do my face, so I made it up slowly and restrainedly with eyeliner, white highlight, and just the lightest touch of blush to make me look healthy enough for a fight. My hair is behaving itself today, I thought.This is good. Absolutely no perfume, and minimal jewelry—just diamond stud earrings and the decent-sized diamond pendant my parents gave me when I graduated. The sort of delicate combo that looks as if you are being understated on purpose, not because you’re broke.
    There. I stared in the mirror. Everything looked fine, except my eyes, which looked frightened and much too sincere. “Take it easy,” I told my reflection. “No need to get all hopped up over costume jewelry and a few nice bonds.”
    The eyes that looked back at me betrayed that all I really wished to do was just not look like a fool in front of our relatives.They’d probably never see me again and I did not want to live on in family lore as a dope. Poor Penny, for instance.Wasn’t she pathetic? She didn’t know how to behave. No, no, no. I vowed to keep my dignity, no matter what happened.

Part Three

Chapter Six
    W E GOT STUCK IN TRAFFIC, SO I BEGAN TO SWEAT. THEN, KNOWING that I was sweating made me panic a little, sitting there in the back of that discreet, dark, luxurious automobile from Jeremy’s law office. But the elderly driver wove his way expertly through busy, workaday London, leaving all the soot and noise behind as we went partway around a lush green park and into a quiet residential neighborhood full of discreet mews and tree-lined squares ringed by immaculate sidewalks and elegant old town houses. We pulled up to a Victorian house with white pillars, and double doors with frosted glass panes.
    “Here we are, miss,” the chauffeur said encouragingly, as if talking to a shy cat that wouldn’t come out of its box right away. He was a small, wiry old man, with a calm, reassuring manner. I nodded, embarrassed that he’d seen through my attempt at poise.
    I checked my wristwatch. Seven minutes to nine. Not late, but not a moment to spare.