Part 17 (1/2)

Leaving Second Cousin Kong to gather up Chang Gao's remains and dispose of them respectfully for the moment, Lin and Uncle Tao traversed the field as it began to get dark.

'To think it was there all along,' sighed Uncle Tao.

'The ways of heaven are most peculiar,' agreed Lin.

His mission was accomplished. The Lin gold was found at the cost of some merit-acquiring charity, a new wall and new pigsty. Only a few hours and a wedding feast stood between him and Miss Phryne Fisher, and he was full of the emotions of spring.

The family Sung wishes to announce that scholar Sung Ma, recently returned from the Second Gold Mountain, will marry Tsao Pan, daughter of retired scholar Tsao Mai-te. The wedding will take place at the home of Uncle Sung on the first auspicious day of the third month in the next year, as Sung Ma then completes his mourning for his mother.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

For a short parting, I can bear it well,But for a long parting, tears wet my breast.

Su Tungpo, translated by Lin Yutang It wasn't hard to find Bill Gaskin because he was looking for Phryne. As she strolled into the stable yard in the late afternoon sunlight he beckoned her into his shed and closed the door.

'Sorry to stop you, Miss, but I heard that you know something about Thomas Beaconsfield.'

Phryne leaned against the edge of a scarred workbench and stared at this gnarled and sooty member of the working cla.s.ses. Bill Gaskin reminded Phryne of that headline about sons of toil buried beneath tons of soil.

'Yes, I do,' she said. 'How on earth did you hear that?'

'Young Billy was pa.s.sing by the phone cabinet,' said Bill, mumbling a little. 'And he meant no harm, Miss, but he heard the name, and then, well, he listened.'

'All right,' said Phryne. 'I'll tell you all I know and then you can tell me why you know the name. I was in the Ghost Train at Luna Park,' she began. As the story progressed she noted that Bill Gaskin was becoming more and more emotional. Finally, when she had wound down to the remi-niscences of Jim Harrison and the bombs in the post, he rummaged under some sacks, produced a bottle of rum and a cash box. He gulped some of the spirit and then opened the cash box. It was full of letters.

'I dunno what to do,' he said.

'Start by telling me all,' suggested Phryne, waving away the offer of the bottle.

'My mum died this year,' said Bill.

'I'm sorry,' began Phryne, but he waved at her to stop.

'She wasn't, so you needn't be. My dad died years before, I can hardly remember him, and my stepfather was a good bloke. Mum kept a boarding house in Port, which she'd had from Dad's mother, old Mrs Gascoigne. We shortened the name a bit to make it sound less foreign. We knew there was some sort of mystery about Dad. Grandma Gascoigne said things like 'If only they knew . . .' about him and hinted that he had rich relatives in England which, if it weren't for her pride, she could have got money off. I never paid much attention and, anyway, she died not long after Dad.'

'With you so far,' said Phryne encouragingly, as Bill seemed to be drying up. He refreshed himself with another swig.

'I don't usually drink during the day,' he said, looking at the bottle. 'Well, when Mum died we were cleaning out her house. Me and Young Billy like it here in Castlemaine and we were going to sell it. Mum kept everything. All of Grandma's stuff and all her own-it took days. We sold the furniture and then Young Billy has to go fiddling with a desk and popped a secret drawer, and this was inside.'

'So you opened it,' said Phryne.

'So we opened it and there was a will. Made by this Thomas Beaconsfield, leaving everything to his beloved wife Amelia Gascoigne. There was a marriage certificate too. Didn't mean a thing to me but it's a legal doc.u.ment, and I thought there might be a quid in it even though it's so old. There was a letter marked ”to be opened in the event of my untimely death”. I didn't know what to make of it so we took it to a lawyer chap that the union said was a good bloke. He got all excited.'

'I bet he did,' said Phryne. Inheritance. She had been right. But why chase Phryne rather than the heir, which would be this grimy stableman and his son Young Billy? Possibly because the a.s.sailant was confident that Phryne would lead him or her to the heir?

And she had too. She just had. d.a.m.n.

'The lawyer said that we had a claim to be a marquess. And what's more, this Thomas Beaconsfield chap had left an accu-sation against his mate, one Cholmondeley, saying that if he turned up dead then this Cholmondeley bloke would have done it.'

'Chumley,' said Phryne absently. 'It's p.r.o.nounced Chumley. That matches with what Mr Harrison's father said too. They both vanished one night and he and his mate took over the claim. Thomas was shot and later embalmed by Professor Beecham. But the body remained unclaimed. So why didn't Amelia come looking for him?'

'I've got her letters here, to her sister. They explain what happened. Apparently they had a fight and she stormed off to Melbourne with half the gold and told him to come looking for her there if he wanted her. He didn't know she was expecting. She built a big house in Port and took in boarders. She got all the papers for safekeeping, I expect, or took them with her when she flounced off. Then Thomas didn't turn up and I suppose she thought...'

'That he'd gone back to England and forgotten her. Instead he was lying in a carnival show as the Wild Colonial Boy. Poor woman!'

'She was a proud woman,' Bill told Phryne. 'Never married again. Brought up her son to be a good man. My mum married again, after Dad died, said she'd never find another like him but she'd settle for some company. Stepdad and her got on all right and I really liked him. I've got two half-sisters. Mum and old Grandma Gascoigne got on like a house afire. My wife died a few years ago and we came to Castlemaine to live with my sister Madge. Got this job here, easy job, and Young Billy has the makings of a hotel manager. That's what he wants to do. I never wanted all the...the... outmoded trappings of a corrupt aristocracy to fall on me!'

'Hardly seems fair,' agreed Phryne. 'What did the lawyer do with these doc.u.ments?'

'He had a search made in London and found out that Thomas was the heir of this marquessate, or whatever the b.l.o.o.d.y thing is, and that the t.i.tle had gone to a collateral branch of the family when Thomas didn't come home. But he said that if we could prove that we were the legitimate direct descendants of the heir, we could still claim the t.i.tle. There might be a great fortune, he said.'

'And what did you say?' asked Phryne, agog.

'That I wouldn't have it as a gift,' spat Bill Gaskin, kicking at an inoffensive pa.s.sing woodlouse. 'I told him to forget about it, but he said he'd keep the doc.u.ments in his safe and I should go away and think about it. Talked it over with Young Billy. He said he didn't want a bar of it either, they probably wouldn't let him run a hotel if he was a lord. We've got the money from Mum's house and we've both got a job. To b.u.g.g.e.ry with the whole thing, I said. I was going to write a letter and tell the lawyer to send me my papers back and then I'll burn the b.l.o.o.d.y things. Sorry, shouldn't swear in front of a lady.'

'Bravo!' said Phryne. 'The right decision. You would not like the weather and you would certainly not like the company.'

'Sorry, Miss, you're one of 'em. I shouldn't have said that.'

'I'm not one of them,' said Phryne firmly. 'I never have been. Now, that being settled, I need your help. Have a look at this note. I suspect that it was sent by one of your distant relatives. This is a trap. Set presumably for me. However, in all probability, my dear Bill, you are in serious danger until you can tell someone that you do not want this...er... unwelcome honour. People have come to Australia to find you and either buy you out, or . . .'

'Kill me?' said Bill calmly. 'And Young Billy as well? We'll see about that.'

'I thought I could rely on you,' said Phryne. 'They were after me to dissuade me from continuing my investigation into the ident.i.ty of the mummy. Not much point in continuing with that now, of course, but they don't know that. We need to get their attention. What I would like to do, Bill dear, is this...'

'I am so sorry,' repeated Lady Alice.

'What are you sorry for?' demanded Dot, who had supplied a clean handkerchief and some of Mrs Butler's Nervine and was about to resort to the good cognac if Lady Alice didn't start making sense soon.

'Father got a letter a few months ago which said that enquiries were being made by a Melbourne lawyer about the descent of the t.i.tle to Grandfather. We were only a collateral branch of the Harboroughs, you know, before Thomas Beaconsfield vanished and was presumed to have died without issue in Australia. Grandfather inherited and he built a new house next to Dunstable. They were great friends. I believe they also had some secret in common. They used to get drunk together and behave badly-shooting out windows in pa.s.sing railway trains, for instance. That one got them into court, and they had to pay heavy compensation. And my father told me that I was destined to marry Roderick Cholmondeley because of my grandfather and his grandfather making some sort of pact. I never heard of such a thing and I refused immediately. Father was very angry but I took my little property and went off to London. I have a small income from a trust fund, you know, quite enough to live on. Especially when one considers the East End, eh, Beth?'

'Indeed,' murmured Eliza, who had not let her friend out of touching range since she had arrived.

'Anyway, this Melbourne lawyer said that Thomas Beacons-field had married in Castlemaine in a private house and his wife had borne him a son. This son had a son of his own who was living. Therefore the whole inheritance of the Harboroughs belonged to this unknown Beaconsfield. Except that he wasn't a Beaconsfield, his name was Gascoigne, his mother's name. Father swore that it was some imposture but he was so furious that I knew he wasn't sure. He offered me a ticket to Australia if I helped Roderick Cholmondeley in his enquiries-Roddy is almost illiterate and his idea of solving a problem is to hit someone until they solve it for him. Dunstable still hopes one of us will marry Roddy, you know, Beth dear.'

'As if we would,' said Eliza.

'Well, someone has to, this is Dunstable's view, because he won't cope in the world without someone to look after him and tame his wilder impulses,' said Lady Alice.

'The only way you could tame Roderick Cholmondeley is to geld him,' said Eliza indelicately. 'And I'm sure his father would not allow that since his primary use is to breed an heir- ugh, what a thought. I've seen your Roddy drunk at a Hunt Ball and he was beastlier than any beast. He bit the head off a chicken. It was disgusting. Even the county thinks he is too unstable for matrimony. Not even the most pus.h.i.+ng of mothers is pus.h.i.+ng her daughter onto Roddy.'