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“I only wish I could,” said Archie, “but I can’t pretend we’re that close. The only thing I know for sure is that Virginia’s penniless once again, even though I have abided by the terms of my father’s will, and continued to supply her with a monthly allowance. But it won’t be nearly enough to deal with her present problems.”
Giles sipped his whisky. “Could one of the problems be the Hon. Freddie Fenwick?”
Archie didn’t reply immediately. “One thing we now know for certain,” he eventually said, “is that Freddie is not Virginia’s son and, perhaps more interestingly, my father must have known that long before he left her only one bequest in his will.”
“The bottle of Maker’s Mark,” said Giles.
“Yes. That had me puzzled for some time,” admitted Archie, “until I had a visit from a Mrs. Ellie May Grant of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, who explained that it was her husband Cyrus’s favorite brand of whisky. She then told me in great detail what had taken place on her husband’s visit to London when he had the misfortune to encounter Virginia. But I’m still in the dark as to how she got away with it for so long.”
“Then let me add what I know, courtesy of the Honorable Hayden Rankin, Governor of Louisiana, and an old friend of Cyrus T. Grant III. It seems that while Cyrus was on his first and last trip to London, Virginia set up an elaborate scam to convince him that he had proposed to her, despite the fact he already had plans to marry someone else—Ellie May, in fact. She then duped the foolish man into believing she was pregnant, and he was the father. That’s about everything I know.”
“I can add a little more,” said Archie. “Mrs. Grant informed me she had recently employed Virginia’s former butler and his wife, a Mr. and Mrs. Morton, who have signed an affidavit confirming that Freddie was their child, which is the reason Virginia’s monthly payments from Cyrus suddenly dried up.”
“No wonder she’s penniless. Is Freddie aware that the Mortons are in fact his parents?”
“No, he’s never asked and I’ve never told him, as he clearly feels his parents abandoned him,” said Archie. “And it gets worse. Mrs. Grant has recently instructed Lord Goodman to represent her in an attempt to get back eve
ry penny Cyrus parted with. And having had the pleasure of meeting the formidable Ellie May Grant, I can tell you my sister has finally met her match.”
“But how can Virginia possibly—” Giles fell silent when the door swung open and a young boy burst in.
“What have I told you about knocking, Freddie, especially when I have a guest with me.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Freddie, and quickly turned to leave.
“Before you go, I’d like you to meet a great politician.” Freddie turned back. “This is Lord Barrington, who until recently was leader of the House of Lords.”
“How do you do, sir,” said Freddie, thrusting out his hand. He stared at Giles for some time before he eventually said, “Aren’t you the man who was married to my mother?”
“Yes I am,” said Giles. “And I’m delighted to meet you at last.”
“But you’re not my father, are you?” said Freddie, after another long pause.
“No, I’m not.”
Freddie looked disappointed. “My uncle says you are a great politician, but isn’t it also true that you were once a great cricketer?”
“Never great,” said Giles, trying to lighten the mood. “And that was a long time ago.”
“But you scored a century at Lord’s.”
“Some still consider that my greatest achievement.”
“One day I’m going to score a century at Lord’s,” said Freddie.
“I hope I’ll be present to witness it.”
“You could come and watch me bat next Sunday. It’s the local derby, Castle versus the Village, and I’m going to score the winning run.”
“Freddie, I don’t think—”
“Sadly I have to be in Brighton for the Labour Party conference,” said Giles. Freddie looked disappointed. “Though I must confess,” Giles continued, “I’d far rather be watching you play cricket than listening to endless speeches by trade union leaders who’ll be saying exactly the same thing as they said last year.”
“Do you still play cricket, sir?”
“Only when the Lords play the Commons and no one will notice how out of form I am.”
“Form is temporary, class is permanent, my cricket master told me.”
