Best Kept Secret

had announced their engagement. Mr Siddons was looking forward to making her acquaintance.
    In the second row, seated directly behind them, were Mr Harry Clifton and his wife Emma, who was sitting next to her sister, Grace. It amused him to see that Miss Barrington was wearing blue
stockings.
    Mr and Mrs Holcombe sat in the third row, alongside the Reverend Mr Donaldson and a lady who was dressed in a matron’s uniform. The back two rows were filled with staff who had served the
Barrington family for many years, their selection of seats revealing their station.
    Mr Siddons perched a pair of half-moon spectacles on the end of his nose and cleared his throat to indicate that proceedings were about to begin.
    He looked over the top of his spectacles at the assembled gathering, before making his opening remarks. He didn’t require any notes, as this was a responsibility he carried out on a
regular basis.
    ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘My name is Desmond Siddons, and I have had the privilege of being the Barrington family’s solicitor for the past twenty-three years,
although it will be some time before I equal the record of my father, whose association with the family covered the careers of both Sir Walter and Sir Hugo Barrington. However, I digress.’ Mr
Siddons thought Lady Virginia looked as if she agreed with him.
    ‘I am in possession,’ he continued, ‘of the last will and testament of Elizabeth May Barrington, which was executed by me at her request, and signed in the presence of two
independent witnesses. Therefore this document,’ he continued, holding it up for all to see, ‘renders any previous will null and void.
    ‘I shall not waste your time going over the pages of legal jargon that are demanded by the law, but rather I will concentrate on the several relevant bequests left by her ladyship. Should
anyone wish to study the will in greater detail later, they are most welcome to do so.’
    Mr Siddons looked down, turned the page and adjusted his glasses before continuing.
    ‘Several charities close to the deceased’s heart are named in the will. They include the parish church of St Andrew’s, Dr Barnardo’s homes, and the hospital that nursed
Lady Barrington so compassionately through her final days. Each of these establishments will receive a bequest of five hundred pounds.’
    Mr Siddons readjusted his spectacles once again.
    ‘I shall now move on to those individuals who have served the Barrington household over the years. Every member of staff who was employed by Lady Barrington for more than five years will
receive an additional year’s salary, while the resident housekeeper and butler will also be granted a further five hundred pounds each.’
    Marsden bowed his head and mouthed the words, thank you, m’lady.
    ‘I now turn to Mrs Holcombe, formerly Mrs Arthur Clifton. To her is bequeathed the Victorian brooch that Lady Barrington wore on the day of her daughter’s wedding, and that she
hopes, and I quote her testament, will help Mrs Holcombe recall the many happy times they shared together.’
    Maisie smiled, but could only wonder when she could possibly wear such a magnificent piece of jewellery.
    Mr Siddons turned another page, and pushed his half-moon spectacles back up his nose before he continued.
    ‘I leave to Jessica Clifton, née Piotrovska, my grandfather’s favourite watercolour of the
Lock at Cleveland
by Turner. I hope it will inspire her, for I believe she
possesses a remarkable gift that should be given every opportunity to blossom.’
    Giles nodded, well remembering those words when his mother had explained why she had wanted Jessica to inherit the coveted Turner.
    ‘And to my grandson, Sebastian Arthur Clifton,’ Mr Siddons continued, ‘I bequeath the sum of five thousand pounds, which he will receive when he comes of age, on March the
ninth 1961.’
    Giles nodded again. No surprise there, he thought.
    ‘The remainder of my estate, including twenty-two per cent of Barrington Shipping, as well as the Manor House –’ Mr Siddons couldn’t resist a glance in the direction of
Lady Virginia Fenwick, who was sitting on the edge of her seat – ‘is to be left to my beloved . . . daughters Emma and Grace, to dispose of as they see fit, with the exception of my
Siamese cat, Cleopatra, who I leave to Lady Virginia Fenwick, because they have so much in common. They are both beautiful, well-groomed, vain, cunning, manipulative predators, who