The door opened and Benson walked in carrying a large tray of tea which he placed on the low table in the middle of the room. Behind him was a man, perhaps in his sixties and shorter than the butler by at least six inches, with blue eyes and fair wavy hair that was brushed back from his face. Unlike the butler, he was casually dressed in loose corduroy trousers, a check shirt, and a green quilted gilet. Two golden spaniels almost clung to his legs, ignoring the newcomers, and gazing at their master with undisguised adoration. Harish leapt to his feet, as did Delilah, only to be waved back to their chairs after a quick handshake.
‘Please, sit down. You’ve come a long way and must be exhausted. I’m Charles Hope.’ He sat opposite them, and in between sipping his tea, told the Hope family’s story over the past few generations.
‘Look, I’m sure there are lots of things you want to know, and I’ll answer your questions as best I can, but first let me explain, and you can ask from there on…’ He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, attempting unsuccessfully to push away the dogs who were now sitting on his feet. ‘Harish,’ he continued. ‘I’m your father’s cousin, older than him by about seven years, I think. As you know, when your grandfather married out in India, the family really frowned upon it. I know that to you that seems very wrong, overly harsh and racist, which is true, but back then that’s how it was. It still is to some extent, so you’ll need to prepare yourself for that.’ He paused for a moment, then continued.
‘My mother, Cecelia, was your grandfather’s sister. She adored him, and he her, I think. She was dead against what happened when their father died, but the family closed ranks against him, handing over the title to his brother instead of him. He should have come back immediately to set things straight, but he didn’t, and then he died leaving your father to take up the fight for him. You know the rest, and then you came along.’ At this point he got up to stand by the window, his back now facing them, but the words he had given so much thought to, still clear.
‘I knew from the moment you were born that it was just a question of time. The evening that your father died, I was in the sitting room on the other side of the house. I’d fallen off my horse that day and was in a lot of pain. I remember it well. I’d just poured myself a glass of red, and then suddenly, out of the blue, the photo of the house with all the relatives from your grandfather’s time, including him, came flying off the mantelpiece like it had been thrown! The glass smashed to pieces in front of me, and I must admit, it really shook me up.’ Disturbed by the memory, he now moved over to the fire, gazing into it to reflect upon the moment and the impact it had had on him over the years.
‘Benson cleared it up and got some new glass. It’s back in its old place, you’ll see it later, but I knew right then that the gauntlet had been laid down. You have one of the same photos yourself I believe? My mother said she sent one to your grandfather. Anyway, I’ve always felt like an imposter, and in truth that’s what I’ve been. My mother died just a few hours after your father, which was rather strange, and I’ve been here alone since then. I never met anyone to share my life with, nor have a family, which I’ve wanted more than anything. It’s been a huge regret for me, but that aside, the place is yours. I’ve moved into the old farm manager’s house about half a mile behind the hall. I hope that’s OK. I won’t be a nuisance, I can assure you of that, but you can come and ask me anything you want.’ He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his moist eyes.
‘Benson is staying here if that’s alright. Jessie does the cooking, and lives in one of the other cottages not far from mine, and there are two dailies who come to housekeep. Benson lives in staff quarters here in the hall. He’ll look after you. I’ve been so lucky to have him, and you are too. His son manages the land, although quite a bit of it has been sold off over the years to pay taxes and keep the place running. To be honest, I’ll be glad to hand it over. It’s a huge responsibility and needs someone young and full of ideas to keep it alive. You’ll get a small income from the estate, but it’s not that much. I have my pension, and an inheritance from my mother. That’s enough for me now.’ He paused again, to consider his closing statement.
Delilah watched the man she had prepared herself to hate with great interest. He presented himself as both pleasant and candid, and had humility too, which she certainly hadn’t expected. A great error had been made that had caused much misery in the lives of the Hope family, and the petty spite against one who’d dared to deviate from the norm had broken them all in the end. She shook her head sadly then glanced across at Harish who seemed transfixed, his eyes not shifting at all from his father’s cousin. The two couldn’t have looked more different, although she was very keen to see the painting that had been mentioned, indicating a likeness between Harish and one of his ancestors. She hoped the likeness was there. It would help her friend to connect to something that was completely alien to everything he had encountered in his life so far. It would ground him, and he would certainly need that after the shock of that afternoon, in effect, being handed the estate of Wishanger Hall and the title that went with it on a plate, with no fight needed. It was almost an anti-climax!
It was true that Harish could barely take his eyes off the man who had held the lives of his family in a vice-like grip for so long. Why hadn’t he handed everything over before? If he really felt as he said he did, then he could easily have done so. How would his father have coped with it if he had? He would ask his mother. Like Benson, his great uncle knew all about his family in India, and the connections here too, like Delilah, and Meera. He even knew about the store that had been at the centre of their lives for so long. What else did he know?
Despite it all, he couldn’t help but be taken in by his easy manner, and what appeared to be a genuine lack of arrogance or scorn of any kind. His Great Uncle Charles. How very odd it felt to say that to himself. He had no relatives at all except for his mother, although that side of the family certainly warranted more research. His extended family were George, Fathers Ryan and Malachy, and Leila and her husband, Gopal. Nothing would change that, certainly not genetics. He felt confused and ran his hand through his straight black hair. This was replicated at the exact same time by his great uncle, albeit that his hair was of an entirely different colour and texture. This was noticed by Delilah who began to look from one to the other for more similarities.
‘I think that’s about it,’ Charles Hope concluded. ‘All the legalities have been sorted out and Benson has some stuff for you to sign. There’s just one more thing… I know you might be thinking that I should have handed things over before, and you’re right. I can’t really explain why I didn’t, except to compare it to your own father’s lack of action. It’s like I was held in a state of torpor, exactly, I imagine, as he was. I can’t say any more than that. I’m sorry. I truly am. I hope you’ll forgive me…’ He paused again, waiting perhaps for an affirmation from Harish that this was the case; that he would be forgiven, and that things could move on now that he, the imposter and cuckoo in the nest, had finally left of his own accord.
Harish said nothing, nor did his impassive face give anything away. His strange silver eyes glinted, although whether from annoyance or some other inner turmoil, Charles was unable to say. He threw up his hands in a gesture that opened the conversation from a single narrative, his, to one that included his great nephew, a young Indian man with an Irish accent, who had the look of his English grandfather about him. He was glad of it, and after so much deliberation over so many years, he felt immense relief at the unburdening of both the estate, which he had no right to, and of his guilt, which had weighed more heavily upon him with each year that passed.
‘Now, fire away with any questions. Harish? Delilah?’
Delilah waited for Harish to speak, to say anything that might disclose how he was feeling inside, no matter what that was. For herself, she felt intense curiosity. Surely, he felt that too? ‘Harish? There must be many things you wish to ask?’ she prompted. ‘You now have your chance.’
‘Why don’t you go first?’ he replied. ‘I’m still trying to take in what I’ve just heard and make sense of it all. Please Delilah, ask away, and I’ll no doubt follow.’
‘Very well then. I will begin the questions. There are many things I wish to ask and know about.’ She smiled at both men, then shrugged her shoulders at their apparent joint amusement. She was glad to see it. Maybe they would share a sense of humour? How wonderful that would be. ‘Here is my first question. Where is the painting that shows a likeness of Harish to his ancestors? I would very much like to see this for myself. After that, please show the photograph that is the same as the one in Delhi. Then, a tour of the house please. When this is completed, I…’
Beginning to laugh, Harish broke in to halt his friend from making any further demands. ‘I think that’s enough to see us through till midnight. We still have to find somewhere to sleep, don’t forget.’
Delilah looked at him, puzzled. ‘Harish Hope. You are not understanding your circumstances. Your great uncle no longer lives here. The house is yours. I imagine there are many rooms to choose from for sleeping. Is that not so, uh, Sir?’ she asked, momentarily unsure about how she should address the man who had just handed over his earldom.
‘Please, I hope you will both call me Charles? Or Uncle Charles if you must?’
Both turned to Harish, thinking that he should decide.
‘Alright then. Charles or Uncle Charles it is,’ Harish replied. ‘Look, I’d like to see the paintings and photograph, and the house too, but a lot has happened in one afternoon. I’ve had a lifetime of preparing for this moment, and now I’m here, it all seems so strange. My father should have come himself, my grandfather too. I can’t help feeling annoyed with them, and you too, for playing with people’s lives.’
At this juncture, Delilah drew in a breath then held it, waiting to see what he would say next. Also perhaps expecting an outburst of sorts, Charles looked resigned, sad even, and nodded, accepting the validity of what his great nephew had said, despite it hitting him with a sharp sting that he well deserved.
‘Now I feel like a usurper, although I know I’m not. Somehow, it was all too easy,’ Harish continued. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this.’
‘I understand, but Harish, I’m the usurper, not you. You were just landed the job of ousting me. Look, I know it all feels strange and confusing. That’s only to be expected, but the place is yours – the title too. It’s all been sorted. It might take a while to come to terms with things.’ He sighed. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you never met your father or grandfather. I’m sorry you’re in this position now. I’m sorry about everything.’ Suddenly, and without warning, he then leapt out of his chair, making Harish and Delilah jump. ‘Tell you what!’ he almost shouted.
Although shocked, Harish calmly waited to hear what words of wisdom his uncle might impart that would help him with the past, the present, and the future too, his life mapped out with no say in it whatsoever.
Delilah appeared to be frozen with her hand over her mouth, although whether this was to hide a laugh or cover a look of horror, wasn’t immediately clear.
Charles clenched both fists, then raised them in front of him. ‘We can have a punch-up if you like. Give me a good thrashing if it will make you feel better? I deserve it!’
Delilah let her hand drop to reveal a wide grin. ‘For this, Uncle Charles, you must wait for my aunt,’ she said as seriously as she could. ‘Then you will meet your match, and you will regret your offer. Harish. What do you say? You wish to fight with your uncle?’ Struggling to stop herself from giggling and keep a straight face, she continued. ‘Soon it will be night, and we will wander the house in the dark and be lost. Please make up your mind and relieve us all of the unbearable tension.’
Now it was Harish’s turn to leap up from his chair. ‘Alight then! C’mon. Let’s get on with it! I’ll decline the punch up, Uncle Charles, or at least put it off until I feel better equipped. In fact, as Delilah said, I’ll just leave it to Meera. Right, the paintings first. After you…’