She blushed hotly. ‘Do you mind? We’ve been passed over.’
‘Not really, Carrie. What more do you want?’ her father added, grateful for Bryn’s intervention.
‘A damned sight more than you seem to think.’ Carina swung her blonde head back to face the solicitor. ‘You ought to be disbarred, McFadden. You’re as big a fool as Dad.’
The great-aunts gasped. They had never heard anything so nasty. And to dear Douglas!
‘I really don’t have to listen to this, Carina.’ Douglas McFadden, veteran of countless highly volatile will-readings, spoke in a perfectly even tone. ‘I have carried out your late grandfather’s instruction to the letter. It was his wish that his granddaughter, Francesca Elizabeth Mary Forsyth, should control the Forsyth Foundation. I would remind you, as Bryn has tried to do, that your late grandfather knew exactly what he was doing.’
‘He couldn’t have!’ Carina was just barely resisting the violent urge to scream. ‘Gramps had no great love for Francesca. Hell, most of the time he ignored her.’
‘Perhaps he knew things about you, Carrie, that made him act like that?’ Charles Forsyth suggested, in a voice that bore overtones of guilt.
‘That’s the trouble with you, Dad—’
Once again Bryn put out a restraining hand. ‘There’s more to be read, Carrie. Why don’t you let Douglas get on with it?’
‘I’d like to,’ Douglas McFadden said, peering over the top of his spectacles. ‘I really would. As Sir Francis has clearly stated, he deeply regretted falling out with his late son Lionel, Francesca’s father. He may not have shown the depth of his regret, but he spoke to me many times about it. It was very much on his mind. He trusted me as his friend and adviser—especially after the loss of his closest lifelong friend Sir Theo.’ The solicitor inclined his head respectfully in Bryn’s direction. ‘Sir Theo’s much loved grandson is here today, and is also a beneficiary. I would like to point out that Francesca was at the very top of the law graduates of her year—no mean feat—though she has chosen art as her career. A successful career, I might add.’
Again Carina projected her naturally loud voice, as though the solicitor was in desperate need of a hearing aid. ‘Since when were you an authority on the kind of things Francesca does, Douglas?’ she challenged him. ‘All that Dreamtime stuff.’
Bryn turned on her eyes that had grown daunting, with a downward cast to his beautifully curved lips. ‘If I were you I’d be a little bit worried about heaping ridicule on the Dreamtime, Carrie. There could be some danger in that. And actually, Douglas is a recognised art connoisseur, with a fine collection.’
‘That Gramps paid for,’ Carina bit off. ‘But not Francey’s own stuff. I think it’s pitiful.’
‘Then we can all rest assured that it’s good,’ Bryn returned suavely, forcing Carina to swallow hard.
Oh, my Lord! Francesca furtively pressed Bryn’s jacketed arm, trying to signal him to stop. It was abundantly clear that Carrie was bitterly resenting Bryn’s defence of her.
Douglas McFadden judged it time to intervene. ‘What conversations Sir Francis and others have had with Francesca—who was named after her grandfather—led him to believe she has a very fine mind. Her viewpoint counted, in his opinion. He was convinced she had inherited his and her own father’s head for business.’
‘And you expect us to believe this?’ Carina ground out the words with difficulty, her jaw was so locked on its hinges. ‘Francesca has a fine mind and I don’t?’
‘Of course you do, Carina.’ Douglas McFadden gave her a deeply conciliatory look. ‘But, well … you never did take much interest … I mean …’ Unusually for him, he began to stammer, but Carina Forsyth in full flight was not a pretty sight. She had broken through all normal control. Which didn’t really surprise him after all.
To prove it, Carina’s voice rose meteorically. ‘Gramps wasn’t happy about women in business, Douglas. You know that. Tell him, Bryn.’ She appealed to the still seated Bryn. He was unmoving, yet he still exuded energy and a blazing intensity. ‘Don’t just bloody sit there mocking us all. Gramps was very proud of me the way I am. I’m the most photographed woman in the country, and certainly the best-looking and the best dressed. Now this! Why should one person have control? And Francesca, at that! She has absolutely no right.’ She flashed her cousin a look of furious anger and betrayal, as though Francesca had spent years working on their grandfather behind the scenes.
‘She is a Forsyth,’ Bryn pointed out provocatively.
It caught Carina blindside. ‘Oh, Bryn!’ She would devour the woman who took Bryn away from her.
‘It has come as a shock to you, Carina. I can see that.’ Douglas McFadden spoke with empathy in his voice. ‘But Sir Francis gave long and careful thought to this. As your father and Bryn have pointed out, you have been left a great fortune. You were considered at one time … but your grandfather had to make a final decision. Charles had indicated he feared the heavy responsibilities. Isn’t that so, Charles? Your grandfather took note. You, as of now, are one of the richest women in the country, Carina—free to do anything you want for as long as you want. But in the end Sir Francis came to believe Francesca was the best person in the family to head up the Foundation. She’s clever. She gets on well with people from all walks of life. She is highly principled. She knows what duty is all about, and the burden of responsibilities that come with great wealth. She is her father’s daughter, and she will have her advisers around her. Her grandfather firmly believed she would have the wisdom to listen to what they have to say and take it on board. He believed she has the capacity to properly evaluate the thousands of requests the Forsyth Foundation receives annually. Furthermore, he believed she would carry out his wishes to the letter. He may not have been the greatest of philanthropists during his lifetime—’
Many would have said miserly, Bryn thought.
‘—as was his closest friend and partner Sir Theo, but he wished for things to be different in the future. He was, in fact, very proud of the way Francesca has set about making something of herself. The way she’s using her own money to fund the promotion of aboriginal art. Very proud indeed. Francesca is a compassionate young woman. Compassion is what the Foundation needs when it comes to prioritising future grants.’
Not everyone agreed. ‘Francey? But she’s only a baby. This sounds like a disaster!’ A scandalised Ruth whispered to her shellshocked sister behind her hand. ‘What will people think?’
‘Yes, what will people think?’ Carina, who had the hearing of a nocturnal bat, swung her blonde head over her shoulder to stare down her flustered great-aunts. ‘God knows what you two will get. That’s if anything is left.’
Bryn, every nerve-ending in his body sensitised to Francesca’s reactions, extended the hand that had been hanging loosely at his side. Francesca grasped it for dear life. It couldn’t have been more obvious that she was stunned by all she had heard. Perhaps most of all the fact her grandfather had been proud of her.
To confirm it, Francesca took a deep, shaky breath. Her grandfather had always acted as if she barely existed for him. Now this! This was a whole new dynamic. Couldn’t he have said just once he was proud of her? Given her a clue? She would only have needed him to say it once.
Francesca, I’m proud of you!
She could have lived on it for years.
Carina, so intent on conveying to her great-aunts the shocking injustice of it all, missed the significant linking of hands. Instead she gave a whooping hysterical laugh. ‘Gramps must have been off his rocker!’ she hooted, turning