A Wise Man's Will

A Wise Man’s Will – Beulah Lee Harris

There was flurry of excitement all over England as ten people received a letter from the same firm of solicitors on the same day. The letter was brief and read:

 ‘I regret to inform you of the passing of Lord Gilly Elmsford of Hertfordshire. You are requested to attend a meeting at our offices in London at 10h00 on Thursday, 24^th July 1921.’

  The letter was signed by Geoffrey Stone from Dobson, Stone and Wilkes (Pty) Ltd.

Most of the recipients tingled with anticipation and trembled in delight at the thought of what this could mean.  The impending meeting overtook all their thoughts and actions over the next week. Most of them bought new outfits and most of them were mentally spending their anticipated inheritance already.   

Some traveled from far and some did not have to travel very far at all, but they all met in the foyer of Dobson, Stone and Wilkes in good time for the meeting that could be a life changer. Some of them knew each other or of each other and despite enthusiastic greetings and introductions, there was disappointment in the air, too, as most of them were aggrieved to see so many beneficiaries still alive – yes, they were already beginning to think of themselves as beneficiaries.

  They had no idea what they were in for, though, and perhaps they would not have come if they had known.

A secretary ushered them into a large but cozy room will walnut panels and what had to be fake Van Gogh’s on the walls. When they were seated a portly man with a large droopy mustache emerged from a side door and stood in front of a large table.

‘I am Geoffrey Stone. Lord Elmsford had no children and has no remaining siblings.’ 

The man began without preamble. ‘You are all nieces and nephews or sons and  daughters of nieces and nephews, but none of you  will automatically inherit, as it is his express wish that-‘

 Stone frowned in disapproval at the murmurs of discontent and cleared his throat.

  ‘It is his express wish that only one of you will inherit eighty percent his entire estate

and that person will be decided by my colleagues and myself.’

 He raised his hand to still further murmurs and questions.

 ‘You will find note pads and pencils on the desk at the back of the room. You are to write down your full name and why you believe that you deserve to be the main beneficiary of his estate, including an approximate amount of four hundred thousand

pounds…’ He smiled sardonically at the wide-eyed shock and open mouths. ‘Your notes will be collected and read in thirty minutes, after which my colleagues and I will deliberate.’

   The man looked at his pocket watch, then left the room. Stunned silence lasted only a moment before the room was hive of nervous, bustling activity as Lord Gilly’s relatives hurriedly found the writing materials and nervously began. Only one

young man looked bored by the whole thing and eyed the door as if he wanted leave before sighing loudly and finally putting pen to paper.

   Exactly thirty minutes later, three secretaries bustled in with trays of dainty sandwiches and jugs of apple juice. The notes were collected and the wait began. 

It was not a long wait.

  Stone returned and there were gasps of shock and surprise as Lord Gilly himself shuffled through the door behind him, leaning heavily on an ivory walking stick. Lord Gilly was smiling wickedly.

 ‘Got you!’ He pointed in the general direction of the dismayed faces.  He took his time getting seated at the large table in front of them. Clutching the notes in one gnarled hand, he drank deeply from a hip flask with the other, savoring the moment.

 Before Stone took a seat next to Lord Gilly, he addressed the room.

 ‘Lord Gilly has his own reasons for this little deception,’ Stone said, also with a smile that suggested he was enjoying this too. ‘As Lord Gilly is alive after all and has read your notes, some of you may wish to save yourself some embarrassment and leave,

 but I must inform you, for your own benefit, that it would not be wise.’

  'Let me begin by saying that most of you are liars. If you did not know it before, know it now.  I cannot abide liars.’ Lord Gilly’s strong booming voice belied his fragile old frame. ‘I shall start with you, Penelope James, my niece.’ He watched the plump pretty

woman blush. ‘You say that you are a law-abiding and charitable person who would open an orphanage with my money. I doubt that, my dear, as I happen to know that you have been running a brothel for the last twenty-three years. Without you knowing it, I have frequented your establishment in the past. A lovely place, I must say, where I have squashed a few titties and enjoyed holding a few quivering bottoms above my face, but no… you shall not inherit from me.’

  The mortified woman got up to leave.

  ‘Let me remind you that it is in your interest to stay seated.’ Lord Gilly took another sip from his hipflask. ‘My nephew, Paul Elmsford. You say how you enjoyed visiting me when you were young, and how you were in awe of me. You ramble on about how close we once were, but you neglect to say that you stole from me once. The fact that you are a thief and that you have lied by omission…no, it is not going to happen for you, I’m afraid.’ Enjoying his nephew’s obvious discomfort, he continued.

   ‘My niece, Sarah Smith. You talk of how you, too, loved to visit with your sons, and that you kept me amused by playing chess with me. You talk of your wonderful sons andhow you would like to help them set up businesses. Hmmmm. The truth is that in the

very few times you visited we only played chess once. I recall, I beat you in five moves, just by the way. I also believe that you also pilfered some of my silver. As for your sons,  they are good for nothing lay-a-bouts. A couple of arseholes, both of them.’

 Shocked gasps from everyone, and a giggle from a now not so bored young man.

 ‘Now, see here -!’ One of the Smith sons stood up angrily.

 ‘Sit down, Peter. I am getting to you.’ Lord Gilly drank the last of the whisky from his hip flask. ‘Peter Smith and Adam Smith, sons of my niece, Sarah. You both wax lyrically about how you loved me so much and how we spent time fishing and how much I taught you.  What utter crap! You, Peter, even have the cheek to say I promised you some sort of inheritance. Lies!’ 

Several people jumped in fright as he banged his hip flask on the table.

‘Fucking  liars, both of you! I have never fished in my life, and if I had it would not been with two blood-sucking, lazy, whining swine’s like you.’ Both men reddened deeply and Lord Gilly moved on to his next victim.

'Julia Pembroke, daughter of my late nephew, John. Sadly you do not take after either of your parents in ways that matter, because while you have inherited their good looks,you have not inherited their brains. In fact, I will go so far as to say that you are as thick as a three foot wall. You write in your note about how you admired me and all my writings and spent many joyous moments reading them, but I recall you battling with even the simplest of reading. Even by your own dear mother’s admission, the

rhyme Humpty Dumpty was a challenge for you when you were twelve!  But I do not hold your stupidity against you. It’s the lie. And also something significant you may have chosen to forget.’ He looked her ashen face from above his spectacles. ‘Do you

remember when you visited me ten years ago and you were trying to wheedle money out me? That you even placed your hand on my leg and tried to seduce me in the hope that I would bestow your request?  Well, I remember very well, you silly, incestuous tart.’ 

Lord Gilly sighed, dismissing her tears with a look of disgust.

‘Camilla Jones and Cecelia Dawson, daughters of my late niece, Petunia.’ He looked up at the two pretty women who were squirming in their seats.

‘That would be you two? I am checking you see, because I have never met you and yet you both say that you spent time getting to know me before I became ill and even nursed me when I was on my death bed.’  He rolled his eyes. ‘Fucking liars!’ 

  ‘My nephew, Peter Elmsford. You prattle on and on about what a good man you are and what a loving son you were to my brother and his wife. You also admit that we were never close, you and I, and that it is something you regret.’ Lord Gilly smirked.  ‘You

would regret it now, wouldn’t you? I have no regrets, however… not about you. You promised your late father that you would love and take care of his beloved dogs when he died. Yes, but sadly not only did you neglect those poor animals, who I did actually

love and would have taken in, you shot them when they became too much work for you! If there is one thing I cannot abide more than lies, it is cruelty. You disgust me and I despise you.’

  Peter Elmsford had the grace to look suitably ashamed. 

 ‘That leaves Simon Elmsford, estranged son of his father and my nephew, Peter Elmsford.’ Lord Gilly smiled at the young man, who stared defiantly back. ‘You say that I am a difficult, cantankerous old fart who you have always disliked. You go on to say how selfish I am and that I have never given you anything before and that you are not sure that you want anything from me now. Simon Elmsford, you are the only honest one amongst this lot. You will inherit my estate when I die, which will be quite soon,

actually.’

Simon looked at the old man disdainfully.

  ‘What if I do not want it?’

‘It will be up to you at the time of my death. You can give it all to charity if you like, as long of none of these other lying miscreants get anything.’ Lord Gilly glanced at all the

faces in the room, relishing the pale ones and the red ones and the tearful ones. ‘Ten percent of my estate will be divided between my loyal servants. Another ten percent will be donated to the animal society. You, Simon, will inherit everything else.’

 ‘May I leave now?’ Simon asked.

  ‘You may. Everyone else, stay a moment.’ Lord Gilly handed some papers to Stone to hand out. He also gave the solicitor a thin wad of cash. ‘I am going to give each of you fifty pounds. But first you have to sign a document stating that you do not now and

never will have a claim against my estate and that you will not contest my will.’

  Lord Gilly rose from his seat, confident that all nine documents would be signed as he heard excited whispers before he even left the room. Fifty pounds was not a lot of money but he knew it would not be turned down by these grasping fuckwits. He smiled

as he shuffled out of the building. What a good morning it had been!

Not thirty minutes later, Lord Gilly’s chauffeur dropped him off outside his gentleman’s club. He sat at his exclusive table, ordered a bottle of the best champagne and waited for his guest.

 The two men drank and toasted each other.

 ‘You do know that I love you very much, and that I will miss you terribly when you die.’

 Lord Gilly’s eyes pricked with tears as he looked at the only person in the world that he loved, knowing that this was the only truth the young man spoken all day.

 “I know, Simon, I know.’

END

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