The Second Son Read online

  “I do apologise, your Grace, for the untimely intrusion, but I have grave news,” said the Chief Constable, shaking the Duke’s hand. The Duke beckoned him to an arm chair and sat back down next to the Duchess. The Chief Constable looked at both the Duke and Duchess and said, “I do apologise but I am the bearer of terrible news for you both about your son.”

  Both the Duke and Duchess looked at each other without speaking, and if the truth be known they both had harboured the same horror on hearing bad news about their second son, Grenville, after all he had been away so long now and they knew that bad news would eventually arrive. The Duchess said, “We appreciate you coming to inform us about Grenville.” The Duke nodded.

  The Chief Constable said, “Sorry, you do not understand, it is Stephan I am here about, not your other son,” he said quietly.

  The Duke and Duchess took each other’s hands and the Duke said, “Please continue, Giles.”

  “I am here to inform you that Stephan was in a major road traffic accident on the road leading to the estate and I am sorry to say he was pronounced dead at the scene by the emergency services,” said the Chief Constable.

  “What happened?” said the Duke quietly.

  “Apparently with the initial findings at the accident scene, it looks like he was speeding, swerved to avoid something, maybe an animal, due to the wetness of the road skidded and lost control and hit a tree.”

  “Oh dear,” said the Duchess.

  “Was anyone else involved?” asked the Duke.

  “He had his fiancée in the car, Miss Sara Farthing,” said the Chief Constable.

  “Was she injured?” asked the Duchess, looking concerned.

  “Apparently just minor scrapes and a few minor bruises, she has been taken to Southampton General Hospital, along with the body of your son,” said the Chief Constable.

  “We must go and see Sara,” said the Duchess, standing up.

  The Chief Constable stood as well. “Of course, and we would ask if you could formally identify the body of your son,” he said quickly, “just for the official paperwork.”

  The Duke stood and shook the Chief Constables hand and said, “Thank you Giles, I understand these situations are never easy.”

  “I do apologise for the intrusion and once again please can I offer my condolence on your sudden loss,” said the Chief Constable before he left the room.

  The Duke looked at the Duchess and could see in her eyes her loss. They both embraced and started to cry. Eventually, the Duchess said, “Now we must go and see Sara.”

  “Yes, of course,” said the Duke, striding from the room. Over his shoulder, he said, “I will go fetch Newton.”

  The Duchess watched her husband depart and thought to herself, poor James, he must be in a terrible place, he is going to mourn the loss of his son, but on the other hand try and not show the relief he would feel over it. She also felt the loss of her child but could not really feel bitter loss that a mother should feel.

  Taking a deep breath, she walked from the room to join her husband and let the staff know their loss, but she was sure no one in the hall would mourn.

  On the drive, down to Southampton General Hospital the Duke and Duchess did not speak, both lost in their own worlds, trying to come to terms with the turmoil of the event. Eventually they arrived at the hospital.

  “Should not be too long, Newton,” said the Duke.

  Newton saluted and said, “Will be here when you are finished, your Grace.”

  Arm in arm, the Duke and Duchess went into the hospital and were directed to Sara’s room. On seeing Sara, the Duchess looked concerned; Sara lay with her eyes closed, and her face and arms were covered in deep blue bruises. As they approached Sara opened her one good eye and tried to smile.

  Smiling back, the Duchess said, “How are you feeling, my darling?”

  In a soft whisper, Sara said, “Feeling lucky.” The Duchess was unsure if this was because of the accident or the death of her son.

  “Do you need anything?” asked the Duke.

  “No, mother and father are on their way,” said Sara.

  “Well, we won’t stay long,” said the Duchess, smiling.

  “Thank you for coming,” said Sara, smiling.

  “Do you remember anything?” asked the Duke.

  Sara shook her head and said, “Everything is a blank.”

  “You know about Stephan?” asked the Duchess.

  “Yes, they told me at the scene,” said Sara.

  Patting her hand, the Duchess said, “Well when you are up for it, please visit us both.”

  “Absolutely,” said the Duke, smiling.

  “Thank you, you have always been so kind to me,” said Sara, closing her eyes.

  The nurse who was hovering said, “I think she has had enough for now.”

  “Of course,” said the Duchess.

  “If she needs anything, please let us know,” said the Duke as they both left the room.

  Once in the corridor they were met by a Doctor. “Your Graces,” he said, smiling.

  The Duke said, “Is there a problem with Sara?”

  “No, not at all, she is on the mend, should be up and running in a day or two and the bruising will fade quickly,” said the doctor smiling.

  “That’s good news,” said the Duchess, smiling.

  “How can we help?” asked the Duke.

  The doctor said quietly, “I am here to escort you to see your son.”

  “I see,” said the Duke.

  The doctor escorted them to the mortuary. On seeing the sign, the Duchess gave a shudder; she had always hated that word. The Duke misread her actions and squeezed her hand in support.

  Before they entered, the doctor said, “Are you both ready?”

  The Duke and Duchess both nodded and the Duke said for them both, “If you please.” As they entered the room the curtains were drawn. Eventually they were slowly drawn back and they both stared at the prone body of their son, Stephan James Hampton the eleventh Earl of Eastleigh.

  “Is that your son?” the doctor asked.

  The Duke said, “Yes, I can confirm that is my son.” The Duchess gripped his arm and began to sob.

  The doctor said, “Thank you, I will leave you both, please, when you are ready I will be outside.”

  “Thank you,” said the Duke as the doctor closed the door behind them.

  Both the Duke and Duchess stared at their son. Eventually the Duchess said, “James, I want my Grenville home with me.”

  The Duke nodded and said, “I know you do, my love.”

  “Please make it happen,” the Duchess said as she left the room.

  Standing alone, the Duke had tears in his eyes as he looked for the final time at his son and said softly, “You bastard,” before he left to join his wife.

  Jonathan Spence sat at his desk looking out of the window. After gaining his degree he had joined his father’s law firm as a junior partner. He loved the law, but sometimes, he wished he had had the courage of his best friend Grenville who had decided to stay in Belize after their summer trip. He had the odd postcard over the years from him. They were always full of hope. Looking at the rain hitting the window, Jonathan smiled and wished his friend well. There was a sharp knock at his door and before he could speak, the door opened. Clive Manners, one of the other solicitors, poked his head around the door and said, “Jonathan, the old man wants to see you.”

  “Thanks Clive,” said Jonathan, smiling, as Clive closed the door. Jonathan wondered what his father could possibly want.

  Jonathan hated going to his father’s office. It always reminded him of the headmaster’s study at Rayleigh School. Jonathan smiled as the memory of school always brought back fond memories. Grenville, Hugo and himself, the three Walpole Boys. That reminded him – he must see if Hugo was available for lunch, they had not met up in a few weeks. Jonathan knocked on the door and heard the muffled, “Enter.” On opening the door, his father said, “Jonathan come in and take a seat.”
Jonathan closed the door behind him and entered the office. Jonathan noticed his father was not alone but had the Duke of Hampshire with him. His father said, “Jonathan, you know the Duke of Hampshire.”

  As the Duke stood, Jonathan said, taking the out stretched hand, “Nice to see you again, sir.”

  “Likewise, my boy, how are you?” smiled the Duke, sitting down again.

  “Very well, thank you sir,” said Jonathan as he took the seat opposite the Duke.

  His father said, “The Duke has a request of you, my son.”

  Looking at the Duke, Jonathan thought this must be to do with Grenville. He could not think why the Duke would seek him out for a matter of law when his father Judge Malcolm Spencer was sitting in front of them. “As you know,” said the Duke, “my son Stephan died recently.”

  Jonathan said, “We were all saddened by your loss, sir.”

  Smiling, the Duke said, “Thank you.”

  “But not sure how I can help?” asked Jonathan, now knowing what was coming next.

  “It’s Grenville, his mother and I are most desperate to have him home,” said the Duke, looking at Jonathan.

  His father said, “We were hoping you could know how the Duke could contact his son.”

  Jonathan looked at the Duke and pondered whether to tell him, eventually Jonathan said, “I have a contact address for him.”

  “Excellent,” said his father.

  “I would like you to do me a favour,” asked the Duke.

  “If I can,” said Jonathan.

  Taking a piece of paper out of his inside pocket and passing it to Jonathan, the Duke said, “Please could you write a letter to my son and let him know he is required to come home.”

  Jonathan studied the piece of paper and realise what was being asked of him. Smiling, Jonathan said, “Of course Sir, I will get onto it straight away.”

  Both standing, the Duke shook Jonathan’s hand again and said, “Thank you my boy, I knew I could rely on you.”

  After Jonathan, had departed the Judge said, “I will speak to the FO on your behalf, see if we can speed things along.”

  “Thank you, Malcolm,” said the Duke, smiling.

  Once back in his office Jonathan read the Duke’s note again. Jonathan smiled at its contents and was torn between his duty to Grenville and to his father. Yes, he understood Grenville’s parents wanted him home after their tragic loss, but was he a true friend if he contacted Grenville? Jonathan remembered what Tom had said to him, “My PO Box address in case you need to contact him.”

  Jonathan took a piece of paper and started to write the letter. After he had finished it, he re-read it several times, and hoped his friend would forgive him, for as he saw it he was betraying their friendship.

  After it had gone dark, Tom wondered where Grenville could be. Going looking for him, he found him sitting on the front porch. “Everything OK, Duke?” said Tom.

  “Not really,” said Grenville, “here, read this, it will explain it.” Tom took the letter and read:

  My Dear Grenville

  It is with a heavy heart I write to you, and I apologise for being the bearer of bad news.

  It gives me great pains to inform you your older brother Stephan was killed in a car accident on the way back from London to Hampton Hall; also in the car was his future bride who fortunately survived the car accident.

  Your mother and father have asked me if I knew how to contact you, and persuaded me to write to you, and let you know the terrible news that has befallen your family; you are now the rightful heir and next in line, both your parents are eager for you to return as soon as possible, so you can rightfully take your place as the future Duke of Hampshire.

  Your father asked me to point out the family motto to you: “Officium antequam glorificetur”, “Duty before honour.” He knows you will do the right thing.

  Your friend

  Jonathan Spencer

  Tom folded the letter back up and passed it back to Grenville, who placed it in his top pocket. “Sorry,” was all Tom could say. He patted Grenville on the shoulder, stood and went back inside.

  Also, included in with the letter was Jonathan’s business card. After reading it, Grenville smiled and thought of home for the first time in years.

  Grenville sat and thought about his family motto, “Duty before honour”. Grenville instantly thought of his late grandfather, and smiled. He remembered the time when he was a little boy, and his grandfather had first shown him the family motto at Hampton Hall; Grenville frowned as he imagined his father having a hand in the letter of Jonathan’s. Old bastard, thought Grenville, just like him to tug the heart strings to get his own way. He had never really seen eye to eye with his father, always in Grenville’s eyes he was a disappointment; he never really fitted into the role he was meant to be. Second sons of Dukes are meant to go and slip quietly into the shadows; all Grenville wanted to do was to be free from all restraints. He was pleased in some way to be the second son, no pressure to achieve, unlike his brother Stephan who was constantly reminded he was the heir, and depended upon to do the right thing always. But now, just like his grandfather, Grenville had been elevated to become the future Duke of Hampshire. Grenville still felt unsure how this made him feel.

  He had been away nearly five years now. At the last family dinner before he left for Belize, the last thing his brother said to him was, “Grenville, my dear chap, you are a waste of space.” Grenville smiled when he remembered that; he probably was, but now he was a rich waste of space.

  Grenville tried to feel sad at his brother’s passing but could not conjure any emotion. He felt nothing, and not even a tear, but he did feel sad when he thought of his mother and father. They would be feeling the loss, and no doubt his mother was anxious for him to return home. Also in the letter Jonathan said that in the car with his brother was his future bride; he never knew his brother had any feelings apart from the one he had for his own self-importance, to have feelings for someone enough who wanted to marry him. Then Grenville smiled. Grenville remembered the weekend before he left for Belize, the Farthing girl, what was her name? Something beginning with S, he was sure… oh yes, Sara. So, she finally agreed to marry Stephan, thought Grenville, then again looks like she had a lucky escape. Grenville felt bad about thinking that but he knew his brother well, and wondered if she did.

  Next day Tom found Grenville staring into space, and asked what he was going to do. Grenville said, “To tell you the truth, Tom, I am not sure.” Tom did not push the matter, as he knew what Grenville was going to do, even if he did not; Tom knew people, and Grenville would decide to go home and become what his family required of him. Tom felt a bit sad; he would miss Duke; they had become very close.

  As they both drove into Belize City to visit Max, Tom asked Grenville, “You know you must at least write home, or contact your family, to prove you are still alive before your father sends the cavalry to find you?”

  “I know, I know,” said Grenville, sounding annoyed, which made Tom smile but he did not speak again until they reached Max’s place.

  When they arrived at Max’s place, they were both surprised to see a police car parked outside. They both entered the building and went up to Max’s apartment. A policeman asked, “Yes, can I help you?”

  “Friend of the family,” said Grenville. Silva, Max’s wife, noticed Tom and Grenville and smiled, she spoke to the policeman at the door, who stood aside to let them both enter.

  Grenville went directly to Silva, who looked like she had been crying, as her eyes were red and puffy. Grenville sat next to her and took her hand in his and asked gently, “What’s going on, Silva?” to which she replied, “Max is dead.”

  Tom stared at Silva, not believing what she had just said. The policeman standing next to Tom said, “We found Max’s body in a dumpster outside the Flamingo club, do you know it?”

  “No,” Tom lied.

  “To us it looked like a robbery, nothing was on the body apart from this piece of paper wi
th a name on it.” The policeman passed the paper to Tom and he recognised his own handwriting on the bloody piece of paper immediately. “Do you recognise the name?” asked the policeman. Once again, Tom lied. The policeman said, “If there is anything thing else you can remember,” passing a card to Silva, “please contact us.” Silva showed the two policemen out and came and sat back down next to Grenville.

  Tom said to Silva, “OK, tell me everything.”

  Silva went on to explain that after he left last time, Max made a few phone calls and last night told her he was on to the name that Mr Tom had given him; he said he had to meet a man at the Flamingo club at seven pm. Tom asked, “Did Max mention who he was meeting?”

  Silva nodded. “Yes, Juno Broutini.”

  “Never heard of him,” said Tom.

  “He was one of Max’s contacts,” said Silva. Tom looked at Grenville, who shrugged.

  Tom took out a large wad of money and passed it over to Silva. “What is this for, Mr Tom?” said Silva.

  “It is what I owed Max,” replied Tom.

  “Thank you,” said Silva, “he loved working for you, Mr Tom. As Max always said, family is important.”

  “Too true,” said Tom. “If you ever need anything, you will let me know.”

  “No, it’s OK Mr Tom, Max left me and the children well provided for. Just be safe, Mr Tom.” Tom and Grenville left Silva with a smile.

  Back at the Jeep, Grenville turned to Tom and for the first time saw pure rage in his eyes, and said, “Poor Max, he seemed a nice man.”

  “He was,” said Tom, quietly, “plus he was family, so this makes this even more personal.”

  “So, I take it we are off to the Flamingo club for a few drinks and a snoop?” asked Grenville.