14
‘CALL MR HARRY CLIFTON.’
Emma gripped Harry’s hand before he rose from his place and walked calmly across to the witness box. Once he’d taken the oath, the judge leaned forward and said, ‘Mr Clifton, I propose to ask you a few questions. When I have finished, if learned counsel wish to clarify any points, they will be free to do so. Can I confirm for the record that you are the husband of Emma Clifton, and the brother-in-law of Miss Grace Barrington, the two defendants in this case?’
‘I am indeed, sir, and also the brother-in-law of Sir Giles Barrington, my oldest and closest friend.’
‘Could you tell the court about your relationship with Lady Barrington?’
‘I was twelve when I first met her at a tea party to celebrate Giles’s birthday, so I knew her for almost twenty years.’
‘That does not answer my question,’ pressed the judge.
‘I considered Elizabeth a dear and close friend, and I mourn her untimely death as deeply as anyone in this room. She was a truly remarkable woman, and if she had been born a generation later, the board of Barrington’s shipping line wouldn’t have had to look outside the family for a new chairman when her husband died.’
‘Thank you,’ said the judge. ‘And now I would like to ask you about this envelope,’ he said, holding it up for all to see, ‘and how it came into your possession.’
‘I went to see Elizabeth in hospital most evenings. My final visit took place on what turned out to be the last night of her life.’
‘You were alone with her?’
‘Yes, sir. Her daughter Grace had just left.’
‘Please tell the court what happened.’
‘Elizabeth told me that earlier in the day she’d had a visit from her solicitor, Mr Siddons, and had signed a new will.’
‘We’re talking about the evening of Thursday July twenty-sixth?’
‘Yes, sir, just a few hours before Elizabeth died.’
‘Could you tell the court what else happened during that visit?’
‘She surprised me by taking a sealed envelope from under her pillow which she gave me for safe keeping.’
‘Did she explain why she was giving it to you?’
‘She only said that if Giles were to contest her new will, I was to hand the letter to the judge selected to preside over the case.’
‘Did she give you any other instructions?’
‘She said I was not to open the envelope or to let Giles or my wife know of its existence.’
‘And if Sir Giles did not contest the will?’
‘I was to destroy it, with the same instructions not to reveal it had ever existed.’
‘So you have no idea what is in this envelope, Mr Clifton?’ said the judge, holding it up.
‘None whatsoever.’
‘And we’re expected to believe that,’ said Virginia, loud enough for everyone to hear.
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ said the judge, ignoring the interruption. ‘I have no more questions for you, Mr Clifton. Mr Todd?’
‘Thank you, m’lud,’ said Mr Todd, rising from his place. ‘You told his lordship, Mr Clifton, that Lady Barrington said she’d written a new will. Did she give you any reason why she had done so?’
‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Elizabeth loved her son, but she told me she feared if he were to marry that dreadful woman Lady Virginia—’
‘M’lud,’ said Sir Cuthbert, leaping up from his place. ‘This is hearsay, and clearly inadmissible.’
‘I agree. It will be struck from the record.’
‘But, m’lud,’ intervened Mr Todd, ‘the fact that Lady Barrington left her Siamese cat, Cleopatra, to Lady Virginia rather suggests—’
‘You have made your point, Mr Todd,’ said the judge. ‘Sir Cuthbert, do you have any questions for this witness?’
‘Only one, m’lud.’ Looking directly at Harry, Sir Cuthbert asked, ‘Were you a beneficiary of the earlier will?’
‘No, sir, I was not.’
‘I have no more questions for Mr Clifton, m’lud. But I would beg the court’s indulgence and ask that before you decide whether or not the letter should be opened, I might be allowed to call one witness.’
‘Who do you have in mind, Sir Cuthbert?’ enquired the judge.
‘The person who stands to lose the most should your judgment go against him, namely Sir Giles Barrington.’
‘I have no objection, assuming Mr Todd is in agreement.’
‘I welcome it,’ said Todd, aware that nothing would be gained by objecting.
Giles made his way slowly to the witness box, and delivered the oath as if he was addressing the House of Commons. Sir Cuthbert greeted him with a warm smile.
‘For the record, will you please state your name and occupation?’
‘Sir Giles Barrington, Member of Parliament for Bristol Docklands.’
‘And when did you last see your mother?’ asked Sir Cuthbert.
The judge smiled.
‘I visited her on the morning of the day she died.’
‘Did she make any mention of the fact that she had changed her will?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘So when you left her, you were under the impression that there was only one will, the one you had discussed with her in great detail over a year before?’
‘Frankly, Sir Cuthbert, my mother’s will was the last thing on my mind at that particular moment.’
‘Quite so. But I do need to ask in what state of health you found your mother that morning.’
‘She was very weak. Barely a word passed between us during the hour I spent with her.’
‘So it must have come as a surprise to learn that shortly after you had left, she put her signature to a complex document some thirty-six pages in length.’
‘I found it inconceivable,’ said Giles, ‘and still do.’
‘Did you love your mother, Sir Giles?’
‘I adored her. She was the family’s rock. I only wish she was still with us, so this whole sorry business need never have arisen.’
‘Thank you, Sir Giles. Please stay there, as Mr Todd may wish to question you.’
‘I fear I might have to take the odd risk,’ Todd whispered to Siddons before he stood to address the witness. ‘Sir Giles, let me start by asking if you have any objection to his lordship opening the envelope that is addressed to him?’
‘Of course he does!’ said Virginia.
‘I have no objection to the letter being opened,’ said Giles, ignoring his wife. ‘If it was written on the day of my mother’s death, it will surely show that she was incapable of signing a document as important as a will. And if it was written before July the twenty-sixth, it is unlikely to be of any significance.’
‘Does that mean that you accept Mr Clifton’s account of what took place after you’d seen your mother for the last time?’
‘No, it most certainly does not,’ said Virginia.
‘Madam, you will desist from these interjections,’ said the judge, glaring down at her. ‘If you offer any further opinions, other than from the witness box, I shall have no choice but to have you removed from the court. Do I make myself clear?’
Virginia bowed her head, which Mr Justice Cameron considered was about as much as he was going to get from that particular lady.
‘Mr Todd, you may repeat your question.’
‘There’s no need for that, m’lud,’ said Giles. ‘If Harry says my mother handed him the letter that night, then that’s what happened.’
‘Thank you, Sir Giles. I have no further questions.’
The judge asked both counsel to rise. ‘Following Sir Giles Barrington’s evidence, if there are no objections, it is my intention to open the envelope.’
Both counsel nodded, aware that if they did object, it would only leave grounds for an appeal. In any case, neither believed there was a judge in the land who wouldn’t dismiss any objection to the envelope being opened.
Mr Justice Cameron held up the envelope so that everyone in court could see it clearly. He slit it open and pulled out a single sheet of paper which he placed on the desk in front of him. He read it three times before he spoke.
‘Mr Siddons,’ he said finally.
The Barrington family solicitor rose nervously from his place.
‘Can you tell me the date and the precise time that Lady Barrington died?’
Siddons shuffled through some papers before he found the document he was looking for. He looked up at the judge and said, ‘I can confirm, sir, that the death certificate was signed at ten twenty-six p.m. on Thursday the twenty-sixth of July, 1951.’
‘I am obliged, Mr Siddons. I shall now retire to my chambers to consider the significance of this piece of evidence. The court will adjourn for half an hour.’