“There will be a terrible lot of business for Pepino,” she said. “Luckily his lawyer is the same firm as Auntie’s, and quite a family friend. Whatever Auntie had, so he told us, goes to Pepino, though we haven’t really any idea what it is. But with death duties and succession duties, I know we shall have to be prepared to be very poor until they are paid off, and the duties increase so iniquitously in proportion to the inheritance. Then everything in Brompton Square has to be valued, and we have to pay on the entire contents, the very carpets and rugs are priced, and some are beautiful Persians. And then there’s the valuer to pay, and all the lawyer’s charges. And when all that has been paid and finished, there is the higher super-tax.”
“But there’s a bigger income,” said Georgie.
“Yes, that’s one way of looking at it,” said Lucia. “But Pepino says that the charges will be enormous. And there’s a beautiful music-room.”
Lucia gave him one of her rather gimlet-like looks.
“Georgino, I suppose everybody in Riseholme is all agog to know what Pepino has been left. That is so dreadfully vulgar, but I suppose it’s natural. Is everybody talking about it?”
“Well, I have heard it mentioned,” said Georgie. “But I don’t see why it’s vulgar. I’m interested in it myself. It concerns you and Pepino, and what concerns one’s friends must be of interest to one.”
“Caro, I know that,” said Lucia. “But so much more than the actual money is the responsibility it brings. Pepino and I have all we want for our quiet little needs, and now this great increase of wealth is coming to us—great, that is, compared to our modest little income now—and, as I say, it brings its responsibilities. We shall have to use wisely and without extravagance whatever is left after all these immense expenses have been paid. That meadow at the bottom of the garden, of course, we shall buy at once, so that there will no longer be any fear of its being built over and spoiling the garden. And then perhaps a new telescope for Pepino. But what do I want in Riseholme beyond what I’ve got? Music and friends, and the power to entertain them, my books and my flowers. Perhaps a library, built on at the end of the wing, where Pepino can be undisturbed, and perhaps every now and then a string quartette down from London. That will give a great deal of pleasure, and music is more than pleasure, isn’t it?”
Again she turned the gimlet-look onto Georgie.
“And then there’s the house in Brompton Square,” she said, “where Auntie was born. Are we to sell that?”
Georgie guessed exactly what was in her mind. It had been in his too, ever since Lucia had alluded to the beautiful music-room. Her voice had lingered over the beautiful music-room: she had seemed to underline it, to caress it, to appropriate it.