Scold's Bridle

Father rang today to give me the inquest verdict on Gerald's death. "They've opted for misadventure, thank God, but I had to pull every string in the book to get it. That damned Coroner was going to bring in suicide if he could." Poor Father! He could never have shown his face in the House again if his brother had killed himself. Heaven forbid! What stigma is still attached to suicide, particularly amongst the upper classes. Nothing is so bad as the ultimate weakness of taking one's own life.

I am naturally delighted with the verdict, if somewhat piqued to have my brilliance overlooked. There is an extraordinary urge to confess, I find, if only to draw attention to what one has achieved ... I won't, of course.

Gerald was putty in my hands when it came to writing the codicil because I told him he'd go to prison for raping his niece if he didn't. "Lord, what fools these mortals be!" The only purpose of the codicil was to convince the idiot solicitor that Gerald had committed suicide when he discovered whose child Joanna really was. Once persuaded, he alerted Father to the fact that a document detailing Gerald's incest existed, and they both performed to perfection. They made such a song-and-dance about pulling their various strings in order to suppress any hint that Gerald might have done away with himself that everyone, including the Coroner, was in no doubt that he had. It is all so very amusing. My only regret is that I had to involve Jane, but I am not unduly concerned about that. Even if she does have any suspicions, she won't voice them. She can't afford to, but in any case no one has questioned where Gerald acquired his barbiturates, or if they have I suspect Father has claimed them as his. He's so drunk most of the time, he probably believes they were.

Father's relief was short-lived. I told him I had a signed carbon copy of the codicil in my possession and he became apoplectic at the other end of the wire. He calls it blackmail. I call it self-preservation...