The Sins of the Father Read online

  ‘Time for breakfast, chaps. Never wise to go to the gallows on an empty stomach.’

  Despite Lord Harvey’s advice, the three of them didn’t eat a great deal as they considered the day ahead. Lord Harvey tried out a few key phrases, while Harry and Giles made some last-minute suggestions to be added or taken away from his script.

  ‘I wish I could tell their lordships how much of a contribution both of you have made,’ said the old man, once he’d added a couple of sentences to his peroration. ‘Right, chaps, time to fix bayonets and go over the top.’

  Both of them were nervous.

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to help me,’ said Emma, unable to look him in the eye.

  ‘I will if I can, miss,’ he said.

  Emma looked up at a man who, although he was cleanshaven and his shoes must have been polished that morning, wore a shirt with a frayed collar, and the trousers of his well-worn suit were baggy.

  ‘When my father died –’ Emma could never bring herself to say ‘was killed’ – ‘the police found a baby girl in his office. Do you have any idea what happened to her?’

  ‘No,’ said the man, ‘but as the police weren’t able to contact her next of kin, she would have been placed in a church mission and put up for adoption.’

  ‘Do you have any idea which orphanage she ended up in?’ asked Emma.

  ‘No, but I could always make some enquiries if. . .’

  ‘How much did my father owe you?’

  ‘Thirty-seven pounds and eleven shillings,’ said the private detective, who took out a wad of bills from an inside pocket.

  Emma waved a hand, opened her purse and extracted two crisp five-pound notes. ‘I’ll settle the balance when we meet again.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Barrington,’ Mitchell said as he rose from his place, assuming the meeting was now over. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I have news.’

  ‘Just one more question,’ said Emma, looking up at him. ‘Do you know the little girl’s name?’

  ‘Jessica Smith,’ he replied.

  ‘Why Smith?’

  ‘That’s the name they always give a child nobody wants.’

  Lord Harvey locked himself in his office on the third floor of the Queen’s Tower for the rest of the morning. He didn’t leave his room even to join Harry, Giles and Emma for lunch, preferring a sandwich and a stiff whisky, while he went over his speech once again.

  Giles and Harry sat on the green benches in the central lobby of the House of Commons and chatted amiably as they waited for Emma to join them. Harry hoped that anyone who saw them, peers, commoners and press alike, would be left in no doubt that they were the closest of friends.

  Harry kept checking his watch as he knew they had to be seated in the visitors’ gallery of the House of Lords before the Lord Chancellor took his place on the Woolsack at two o’clock.

  Harry allowed himself a smile when he saw Emma come rushing into the central lobby just before one. Giles gave his sister a wave, as both men rose to greet her.

  ‘What have you been up to?’ asked Harry, even before he’d bent down to kiss her.

  ‘I’ll tell you over lunch,’ promised Emma as she linked arms with both of them. ‘But first I want to be brought up to date on your news.’

  ‘Too close to call, seems to be the general consensus,’ said Giles as he guided his guests towards the visitors’ dining room. ‘But it won’t be long now before we all learn our fates,’ he added morbidly.

  The House of Lords was full long before Big Ben struck twice, and by the time the Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain entered the chamber, there wasn’t a place to be found on the packed benches. In fact, several members were left standing at the bar of the House. Lord Harvey glanced across to the other side of the chamber to see Reg Preston smiling at him like a lion who had just spotted his lunch.

  Their lordships rose as one when the Lord Chancellor took his place on the Woolsack. He bowed to the assembled gathering, and they returned the compliment before resuming their seats.

  The Lord Chancellor opened his gold-tasselled red leather folder.

  ‘My lords, we are gathered to give judgment as to whether Mr Giles Barrington or Mr Harry Clifton is entitled to inherit the title, estate and accoutrements of the late Sir Hugo Barrington, Baronet, defender of the peace.’

  Lord Harvey looked up to see Harry, Emma and Giles seated in the front row of the visitors’ gallery. He was greeted with a warm smile from his granddaughter and could lip-read her words, ‘Good luck, Gramps!’

  ‘I call upon Lord Harvey to open the debate,’ said the Lord High Chancellor, before taking his seat on the Woolsack.

  Lord Harvey rose from his place on the front bench and gripped the sides of the dispatch box to help steady his nerves, while his colleagues on the benches behind him greeted their noble and gallant friend with cries of ‘Hear, hear!’ He looked around the House, aware that he was about to deliver the most important speech of his life.

  ‘My lords,’ he began, ‘I stand before you today representing my kinsman, Mr Giles Barrington, a member of the other place, in his lawful claim to the Barrington title and all the possessions of that lineage. My lords, allow me to acquaint you with the circumstances that have brought this case to your lordships’ attention. In 1877, Joshua Barrington was created a baronet by Queen Victoria, for services to the shipping industry, which included the Barrington Line, a fleet of ocean-going vessels that are, to this day, still based in the port of Bristol.

  ‘Joshua was the fifth child in a family of nine, and left school at the age of seven, unable to read or write, before he began life as an apprentice at the Coldwater Shipping Company, where it soon became clear to all those around him that this was no ordinary child.

  ‘By the age of thirty, he had gained his master’s certificate, and at forty-two he was invited to join the board of Coldwater’s, which was experiencing difficult times. During the next ten years, he rescued the company virtually single-handed, and for the next twenty-two years, served as its chairman.

  ‘But, my lords, you need to know a little more about Sir Joshua the man, to understand why we are gathered here today, because it certainly would not have been at his bidding. Above all, Sir Joshua was a God-fearing man, who considered his word was his bond. A handshake was enough for Sir Joshua to accept that a contract had been signed. Where are such men today, my lords?’

  ‘Hear, hear’ echoed around the chamber.

  ‘But like so many successful men, my lords, Sir Joshua took a little longer than the rest of us to accept his own mortality.’ A ripple of laughter greeted this statement. ‘So when the time came for him to make his first and only will, he had already fulfilled the maker’s contract of three score years and ten. That did not stop him approaching the task with his usual vigour and vision. To that end, he invited Sir Isaiah Waldegrave, the leading QC in the land, to represent him, an advocate who, like you, my lord,’ he said, turning to face the Woolsack, ‘ended his judicial days as Lord High Chancellor. I mention this, my lords, to emphasize that Sir Joshua’s testament bears a legal weight and authority that does not allow it to be questioned by his successors.

  ‘In that will, he left everything to his first born and next of kin, Walter Barrington, my oldest and dearest friend. That included the title, the shipping company, the estates and, I quote the exact words of the will, “all that therein is”. This debate, my lords, is not about the validity of Sir Joshua’s last will and testament, but only about who can rightfully claim to be his heir. At this point, my lords, I would like you to take something into consideration that would never have crossed Sir Joshua’s God-fearing mind; the possibility that an heir of his could ever father an illegitimate son.

  ‘Hugo Barrington became next in line when his elder brother Nicholas was killed fighting for his country at Ypres in 1918. Hugo succeeded to the title in 1942 on the death of his father, Sir Walter. When the House divides, my lords, you will be called upon to decide between my grands