Treasure Preserved by David Williams

Author:David Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

Chapter Eleven

‘Your cup, Mark?’ Cynthia Tring held the bone china pot ready to pour. Treasure was on her right.

They had finished lunch — the Trings, Treasure and Denis Pitty. They were lingering over coffee.

The dining-room was well proportioned. Unlike the drawing-room, though, it was only sparsely furnished.

The four were seated at a small gate-legged table — mahogany and quite old. The chairs, in contrast, were newish reproduction. Indentations in rugs, marks on walls, and a somewhat eccentric arrangement of pictures suggested the former presence of a good deal more equipage. There had probably been a sideboard, a chest of some kind, certainly a heavier table and more chairs. At a guess, the banished pieces were probably in the same class as the surviving breakfast table.

At his time of life, the Canon would not be much given to entertaining. To be realistic, his wife was unlikely to live out an inevitably long widowhood in such a relatively large establishment. It made sense to dispose of unwanted furniture. The antique market was booming. Yet the near-brutal denuding of this room had been overdoing things — unless the Trings were very hard up indeed.

Treasure remembered Lady Brasset’s quip about not living like a Cardinal: and Cardinals didn’t have wives with tastes for ultra-suede dresses. Cynthia looked very becoming.

‘Thank you. Delicious coffee. Like everything else.’ He smiled, pushing his cup towards her, and trying to make it clear the hostess was included in the compliment.

‘Fortunately, Louella’s affairs are in apple-pie order,’ offered Pitty, bringing them back to the subject being discussed — in a way, immodestly. Cynthia had earlier announced he had been in charge of all the deceased’s business affairs.

Treasure had been mildly surprised and irrationally irked to find the lawyer had also been invited to lunch.

Pitty had evidently not been summoned to arrange a settlement over the damage at the Round House. No one had seemed much interested in the subject. Perhaps it had been correctly assumed it was hardly Treasure’s province to haggle over petty claims against Seawell Developments.

‘Everything goes to Richard, the son. He’s a doctor. Used to be in New South Wales,’ said Cynthia.

‘South Wales … South Wales?’ questioned her husband from across the table.

‘New South Wales, I said, Algy. But he’s moved somewhere in the north,’ his wife countered with a touch of impatience. ‘Denis telephoned him last night.’

Pitty nodded. ‘Took the news of his mother’s death very stoically. May not be able to come to the funeral.’ He glanced at Cynthia.

‘Good deal of the estate was entailed for the grandchildren. Remember from the husband’s death. Best way,’ said the Canon.

‘Yes, virtually the lot,’ Pitty confirmed promptly.

‘Pretty well everything,’ Cynthia came in simultaneously.

The Canon shook his head. ‘Didn’t Louella have money of her own? Intended giving it away in due time to avoid death duties. Hmm.’ He sighed. ‘In the midst of life. Well, there it is. She liked to play the stock market, d’you see …’

‘It was only pin money, really.’ Pitty was quietly dismissive.

‘Did you handle that for her?’ Treasure asked, showing a mild professional interest.

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