That evening jennifer came into Morcar’s den, looking pale and harassed.
‘Have you a moment, Uncle Harry?’
‘Of course. What’s wrong? Is it about Jonathan not coming into textiles?’
‘Yes. He told me this afternoon. It was the first I had heard of his feeling.’
‘Well, you don’t care,’ said Morcar out of the soreness of his heart. ‘You’re a Southerner. You don’t care about textiles.’
‘David cared,’ said Jennifer quietly.
‘Yes. But you don’t. You’d just as soon see him a headmaster.’
‘Yes. I would,’ said Jennifer proudly, raising her head.
‘Well, then,’ said Morcar, ‘what’s wrong? What have you got to worry about?’
He thought he knew all too well what was wrong, namely that Jonathan had taken a decision affecting his whole life without consulting his mother, not even mentioning the matter to her until he had settled it with Morcar. It was her son’s lack of confidence in her which distressed Jennifer. Morcar knew it, and knew his pretence not to do so was a lie, but he could not prevent himself from implying this lie, from indeed taking pleasure in doing so.
‘I should like to sell my Old Mill shares, Uncle Harry, said Jennifer coldly.
‘Good God!’
‘To you, of course. I should be grateful if you would buy them.’
‘I can’t do that, Jennifer,’ said Morcar irritably. ‘An executor is not allowed in law to purchase any trust property.’
‘Even if the estate was all settled long ago? It’s twenty Years since David - was killed.’
‘It might be legal after such a lapse of time, but I shouldn’t like to do it - I should feel under a slur. A trustee isn’t allowed to derive any advantage from his position. Wait a minute, though,’ exclaimed Morcar in sudden recollection. ‘I seem to remember—’
He drew out his keys, opened his wall-safe, and ruffling through the papers in his deed box, drew out his copy of David’s Will.
‘Yes, there’s a clause,’ he said reluctantly. He read it aloud: I authorize my trustee the said Henry Morcar notwithstanding that he shall be a trustee of this my will at any time to purchase by private contract all or any part of my shares in Messrs Oldroyd and Mellor Company Limited if my wife at any time after my death desires to sell any of the said shares.
The sight of David’s clear, firm, highly individual handwriting in the Will’s signature, the thought that David’s hand had actually touched this paper which he now held, struck like a spear into Morcar’s heart. He looked at Jennifer and saw tears in her eyes. There was a pause.
‘So you see you are allowed to make the purchase,’ said Jennifer at last.
‘Seems so. Why do you want to sell out of Old Mill, Jennifer? David trusted me. Don’t you trust me to earn your living for you there?’
‘Of course, Uncle Harry,’ said Jennifer impatiently.
‘Why then?’ As she hesitated, he burst out: ‘It’s for Jonathan’s sake, to free him from textiles. That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Jennifer, weeping.
‘To sell Old Mill would have cut David to the heart.’
‘I know. But it’s Jonathan I have to think of now. I must look to his future.’
‘Leave it a few months, Jennifer,’ urged Morcar. ‘Jonathan may change his mind, you know. He’s young yet. I won’t deny this is a deep grief to me.’
He felt he simply could not bring himself to make the loss of Jonathan irrevocable.
Jennifer sighed but acquiesced.