Ivan.’
Conrad considered his son’s proposal and shrugged: not because he disapproved, I guessed, but because he didn’t think much of his brother Ivan’s brains.
‘Very well. Ivan. Anyone against?’
Everyone shook their heads, including Marjorie.
‘Mr Morris?’ Conrad asked formally.
‘He has my votes.’
‘Unanimous, then,’ Conrad said, surprised. ‘Any more nominations?’
Rebecca said, ‘Four is a bad number. There should be five. Someone from the younger generation.’
She was suggesting herself again. No one, not even Dart, responded. Rebecca’s thin face was in its way as mean as Keith’s.
Not one of the four grandchildren was going to give power to any other. The three older brothers showed no wish to pass batons. The Board, with undercurrents of gripe and spite, was established as the old Lord’s three sons and their enduring aunt.
Without difficulty they agreed that Conrad should be Chairman (‘Chair,’ Rebecca said. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Keith), but Marjorie had another squib in reserve.
‘The solicitor’s letter also says,’ she announced, ‘that if the shareholders are dissatisfied with any director, they can call a meeting and vote to remove him. They need a fifty-one per cent vote to achieve it.’ She stared beadily at Keith. ‘If it should become advisable to save us all from an irresponsible director, I will make certain that Mr Morris and his eight votes are encouraged to attend the meeting.’
Hannah was as affronted as Keith, but Keith, besides being infuriated, seemed almost bewildered, as if the possibility of his aunt’s vitriolic disapproval had never occurred to him. Similarly it had never occurred to me that she wouldn’t demand my execution rather than my presence. Marjorie, I then reckoned, would use any tool that came to hand to achieve a desired end: a wholly pragmatic lady.
Dart said with deceptive amiability, ‘Isn’t there some rule in the set up of this company that says all board meetings are open? I mean, all shareholders may attend.’
‘Rubbish,’ Keith said.
Forsyth said, ‘Attend but not interrupt. Not speak unless asked.’
Ivan’s voice drowned his son’s. ‘We’ll have to read the articles, or whatever.’
‘I did,’ Forsyth said. No one paid any attention.
‘It never mattered before,’ Conrad observed. ‘The only shareholders besides Father and Aunt Marjorie were Mr Morris, and of course before him, Madeline, and… er… Mrs Perdita Faulds.’
‘Who exactly is Mrs Perdita Faulds?’ Rebecca demanded.
No one replied. If they knew, they weren’t telling.
‘Do you,’ Dart asked me directly, ‘know who Mrs Perdita Faulds is?’
I shook my head. ‘No.’
‘We’ll find her if necessary,’ Marjorie declared, making it sound ominous. ‘Let’s hope we won’t have to.’ Her malevolent gaze swept over Keith, warning him. ‘If we have to remove a director, we will find her.’
On the brief list of shareholders that Roger had shown me, Mrs Faulds’ address had been care of a firm of solicitors. Messages to the lady would no doubt routinely be relayed, but actually finding her in person might take ingenuity. Take a professional bloodhound, perhaps. Marjorie wouldn’t blink at that, I guessed, if it suited her.
It also occurred to me that if she were so certain the mysterious Mrs Faulds would vote as Marjorie wanted, then Marjorie, at least, knew who she was. Not really my business, I thought.
Conrad said, with a show of taking a grip on the meeting, ‘Well, now that we have directors, perhaps we can make some firm decisions. We must, in fact. We have another race meeting here next Monday, as you know, and we cannot ask Marjorie indefinitely to be responsible for authorising everything. There was a lot Father used to do that none of us know about. We simply have to learn fast.’
‘The first thing to do is sack the Colonel and stupid Oliver,’ Rebecca said.
Conrad merely glanced at his daughter and spoke to the others. ‘The Colonel and Oliver are the only people at present who can keep this place running. We need, in fact we rely entirely, on their expertise, and I intend to go on consulting them over every detail.’
Rebecca sulked angrily. Marjorie’s disapproval grew vigorous runners in her direction, like a rampant strawberry plant.
‘I put forward a motion,’ Ivan said surprisingly, ‘that we continue to run the races as before, with Roger and Oliver in their normal roles.’
‘Seconded,’ Marjorie said crisply.
Keith scowled. Conrad, ignoring him, made a note on a pad in front of him. ‘The Board’s first decision is to continue without change, for now.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I suppose we ought to have a secretary to write the minutes.’
‘You could use Roger’s secretary,’ I suggested.
‘No!’ Rebecca jumped on it. ‘Everything we