Capítulo 2: Chapter 2
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The professor put his hands behind his back and began to strut around in front of the table where the boy was sitting.
- Your "great" grandfather, the first Duke of Westminster, received a huge land grant along with his title. Like all aristocrats of this level, he lived off the land rent, but unlike other dukes, he began to invest the profits in buying new lands and building buildings, which he rented out. His children picked up the tradition.
Richie listened intently, grasping every word the lecturer said. The professor kept pacing back and forth and talking:
- The next generations of Grosvenors continued the tradition of investing in land purchases and construction. Your grandfather Karl was particularly active in this regard. He began buying up land not only in the UK, but also in Canada, the USA, Australia and other nations. He probably made the greatest contribution to the growth of the Grosvenors' financial fortunes. In the fifties and sixties your family was richer than the royal family.
The professor changed his trajectory and started walking in circles from his desk to the blackboard. He continued the story:
- In the fifties, the numerous children of the fifth Duke of Westminster, that is, your grandfather Charles, began to lead a licentious lifestyle. They spent an insane amount of money on all sorts of nonsense. It threatened to ruin the family.
Richie held his breath. There was genuine curiosity in the boy's eyes.
- Carl Grosvenor had still restrained his children's impulses to squander their fortune during his lifetime. But he realised that when he died, everything his ancestors and himself had earned would be wasted. So he decided to set up a trust fund, following the example of the Rothschilds.
Richie tried to remember what a trust fund was, but nothing came to mind. So he decided to ask directly:
- Sir, a trust fund... What's that?
- Oh, I was just glad that you, Richard, had picked up on this," the professor paused and shook his head, looking at the boy reproachfully. - A trust is a system whereby property originally held by the settlor is placed at the disposal of the trustee, but the beneficiaries receive the income from it.
- So Grandpa put our property into a trust? - Ritchie asked.
- Yes," the professor nodded. - In the late fifties the Grosvenors put their assets in several trusts, so that the estate wouldn't be squandered by heirs, ex-wives and other lousy sheep.
The professor stepped away from the blackboard and approached his desk. He rested his hands on the tabletop and continued:
- 'The Grosvenor strategy allows you to make a profit, but if, for example, you, Richard, receive an inheritance and suddenly want to sell a small thing like a shopping centre in the heart of London, you can't do it without the approval of the board of trustees. There are now seven of them, including the sixth Duke of Westminster - your father. The head of the board of trustees is Mark Preston, an excellent economist, a nobleman, an honest man and a sound businessman.
- Wait, so I can't spend my money without the consent of the Board of Trustees? - Richie rounded his eyes.
- No, you can spend your money. You'll be paid a substantial sum every quarter from the income of the trust fund. That's millions of pounds. But you can't sell the property. And, for example, if you marry a money-hunter unsuccessfully and then divorce and your spouse sues you for part of the property, she won't be able to sell it. Although, as far as I know, the Grosvenors have always had prenuptial agreements whereby the spouse cannot claim the husband's property in the event of divorce. At most, as in the case of your father's ex-wife, the children can receive annual payments from the trust fund.
- My father has an ex-wife and more children? - Ritchie wondered.
- Hmmm..." the professor stretched out. He didn't know what was going on inside the Duke's family, so he didn't find the boy's question strange. - As far as I know from sources available to the general public, Richard, you have two older sisters from your father's first marriage. The younger of the two is in her early twenties. Both girls receive maintenance, the amount of which is not publicly disclosed, and the payments will continue until their deaths. These payments will be inherited by their children, probably in equal shares, unless your father decides otherwise, for he is legally obliged to support his children only until the age of eighteen. I don't know what your father wrote in his will. There are other Grosvenors besides your sisters, such as your father's siblings and their children. Perhaps more distant relatives, such as the children of Carl Grosvenor's siblings, also have some benefits. You, as the future seventh Duke of Westminster, will inherit the entire Grosvenor fortune and will receive most of the payments from the fund.
- How big is this fortune? - Ritchie asked. - You spoke of land and a shopping centre in London.
- As far as I know, it's more than a thousand properties in sixty countries," replied the professor. - Richard, you realise that I can't tell you exactly, only someone from the board of trustees of the Grosvenor Group, such as your father, can tell you. But I do know that you own almost all the property in the centre of London and Liverpool. For example, the Mayfair area, including the US Embassy, the Beaumonde Hotel, art galleries and museums. Your family owns about forty thousand hectares of land in Scotland, almost all of Silicon Valley, thirty thousand hectares in Spain and many more.
Richie whistled in amazement and exclaimed:
- Wow! I'm fucking rich! Is there any country that doesn't happen to belong to our family?!
- If it does, I don't know about it," the professor laughed quietly, watching the boy's reaction.
Next, the professor read out a lecture on economics and gave the ward a homework assignment.
Richie's head was puffy after the lessons. Okay school subjects, they were not difficult, but university level economics was something with something.
'I wonder how an eight-year-old boy could cope with all this? - Richie thought. - I, a grown man who graduated from an institute, have a hard time absorbing this level of information. Maybe he couldn't handle the high strain on a child's body and escaped from this body?"
There was no time to think, there was still much to do.
First of all, Richie decided to explore the house. It was not an easy task because of the size of the building. There were dozens of rooms of various purposes. On the first floor were mostly bedrooms and offices, on the third floor there was a huge library and his father's office. The ground floor was occupied by the dining room, kitchen, a gigantic living room, gymnasium and rooms for servants. There was also a cellar. There was a wine cellar, storage for food, a large industrial refrigerator (such are usually installed in restaurants) and the cherry on the cake was a home cinema. And it was not a holographic projector with increased power and not even a flat TV with a large diagonal, which was outdated by his standards. It was a real cinema with a projector, a projectionist's booth and a white canvas on which the film was broadcast. However, the seats were much more comfortable than in ordinary cinemas. They could accommodate two dozen people.
At first, the boy was followed by a valet. To be exact, initially John did not intend to do this, and followed the child only when Richie thought to go down to the ground floor. But when Richie left the basement, John breathed out a sigh of relief. He realised that the kid was just having fun playing 'explorer of the house'. Realising that the ward was busy playing his game and wasn't going to get into anything, John left Richie to his own devices. As they say, whatever the child does, as long as it does not go deep into the basement, where recently there was an explosion.
The most interesting room he found was the master bedroom. Apparently his father lived there. The bedroom itself was larger than Richie's. It had a spacious dressing room, a boudoir and a bathroom with a Jacuzzi.
In the boudoir, the boy found a closet of cardboard boxes that were covered in dust. There in one of the boxes he dug out a family photo album.
Richie curiously began to look at the pictures.
At first, the pictures showed the boy's father in his early forties. Next to him was often a tall young girl with light brown hair in her early twenties. Then a small child was added, which soon turned into a girl of about five years old. The little girl in the pictures grew up, the father and the brown-haired girl grew older. When the man looked fifty, the woman thirty, and the girl ten years older, another baby appeared.
Thus Ritchie scrolled through the album until the moment when the second girl in the photos became ten years old, the first (already a girl) disappeared from the pictures. Apparently, she had left her parents' home. At this point the album ended.
Digging around in the box of belongings in which the album had been found, Richie found another one. Naturally, he started looking at the new photos.
His father looked only slightly younger in the photo than he did now. Next to him was a young blonde girl in her early twenties. She was charming and blue-eyed, looking a lot like Richie. One could mistake the couple for grandfather and granddaughter, but the boy realised that was not the case at all. And his confidence was strengthened after he turned the sheet and found a photo with his father, a blonde girl and a little boy, who on the next cards grew older and acquired familiar features - they had been seen in the mirror for a couple of days already.
And then the girl disappeared from the photo cards. Only the sixth Duke of Westminster and his five-year-old son Richard flashed on them for some time. Suddenly the photo cards stopped in the middle of the album.
After examining the finds, Richie had the impression that his mother (the blonde in the photos) had married a wealthy lord. She was probably hoping to get her hands on the duke's fortune. Otherwise, what would be the point of a young beautiful girl marrying an older man who was in his early sixties? But when Richard was around five years old, something happened and his mother disappeared. Where she disappeared to is questionable. Either she died or his father divorced and threw out his ex-wife with a kick in the arse, leaving the child to himself. In any case, the unequivocal fact is that Richie lives with his father.
At first dad spent a lot of time with his son, but his enthusiasm was enough for about six months. And then the father distanced himself from his son, shifting his upbringing to the nanny, valet, tutors. He even sits as far away from the child as possible during meals, deliberately distancing himself.
Richie put the photo albums away and returned to his office. There he searched through all the drawers and cupboards for the diaries. But all he found was a pile of toys and scribbled notebooks.
The most useful finds were notebooks with notes of tutors' lectures on economics and etiquette. The boy learnt them quite quickly. When he finished reading the notebook with lectures on etiquette, John came into the office after knocking and allowing him to enter.
- Mr Ritchie, it's time to go to dinner.
- Okay.
The boy put aside his notebooks and followed the valet.
In the dining room, the sixth Duke of Westminster was already seated at the table. Richie took his seat across from his father. He was bursting with curiosity. The boy did not hold back and asked:
- 'Dad, can I ask you a question?
- Yes, son? - The man put aside the cutlery.
- Dad, where did Mum go?
- Hmmm... - the duke frowned. - 'Son, we've been through this before,' he replied dryly. - Don't you remember the conversation we had two years ago?
- I'm sorry, Dad, but I was just a kid," Richie smiled embarrassedly and shrugged his shoulders.
- 'Eh...' the man sighed sadly. - 'Richie, your mum... she left us.
- Did she die?
- 'No,' the man shook his head slightly to the side. - Let's just say we had some misunderstandings that were not easy to resolve.
- Dad, I'm an adult. You can tell the whole truth.
- Even if it's not pretty?! - The Duke raised his eyebrows questioningly.
- Yes, father," the boy nodded gravely.
- Well, perhaps you are old enough to know the truth," the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his right hand. - You see, your mum wasn't the best person. She was the kind of girl who preys on rich men. At one not-so-pleasant moment, I managed to find out that she was using... hmm... how can I explain it to you?
- Dad, speak plainly! I'm quite clever and intelligent. You don't think a stupid person would be able to study ahead of the curriculum, do you?
- Ritchie, I'm proud of what you've done, but don't be arrogant. I'll tell you the real story. Your mum used special pheromone drugs to make me fall in love with her. Do you know what pheromones are?
- Yes, Father," I nodded gravely. - Animals secrete pheromones to attract the opposite sex. I've even heard that there are pheromone perfumes. But how did you know about that? I mean, did your mum use drugs like that?
- She confessed it herself once," the duke said in a sad tone. - She hoped I would understand, so she stopped giving me those... um... drugs. And it turned out that I had an epiphany and realised that we never loved each other.
- Did I?
He was afraid that if his father got rid of his mother, he might get screwed out of his inheritance.
- What about me? - he continued. - Don't you love me either?!
- No! No, Richie! - objected the Duke. - I love you with all my heart. You are my son, the heir to Grosvenor, the future seventh Duke of Westminster. The fact that your mother and I are separated has not affected my love for you.
- But then why do my sisters live with their mother and I live with you and not with my mother?
- It's a complicated question... - the man covered his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the index finger and thumb of his right hand. Fixing his glasses, he continued:- Monica and I just happened to have an affair with the gardener out of boredom, and I couldn't bear the insult. We ended up divorced, and Jessica and Lisa stayed with Monica. I made sure your sisters were well off. And your mum... She's a fortune hunter...
The man got up from the table and walked over to the child. He gently hugged his son and patted him on the top of his head.
- Richie, don't be upset by what I'm going to say.
- I won't, Dad," the boy said, squinting at his father.
- You see, Laurie was interested in you as a tool to get the Grosvenors' money. No rich man is safe from such a fate. When my mind cleared and her deception was revealed, we had a big fight. I told her Laurie wouldn't get a penny. She ended up packing up all her belongings, taking her jewellery and quite a few valuable antiques, and then she fled into the unknown.
- And she didn't take me? - Richie asked in surprise. - I'm better than antiques!
The man laughed good-naturedly and hugged his son warmly. He said:
- Definitely better! Laurie took the trinkets and left me the best. So I didn't even bother going to Scotland Yard.
- What was Mum's surname? What did she do before you got married?
- That's a good question.
The man sat down in the chair next to his son on his right hand and continued:
- 'You see, Richie, while I was taking Laurie's medication that she put in my drinks, I didn't wonder about that at all. It was enough for me to have her by my side. But then I asked myself the exact same question. And then I hired detectives to find any information about your mother.
- And?
- It was very complicated, son. All I knew was your mother's maiden name was Cabot. Laurie Cabot. The detective found out there was no such person. Or rather, didn't exist until 1997. Then suddenly there were records of Miss Cabot in the archives. It looked as if she'd bought the records. But an investigation revealed that none of the officials with access to issue such papers took bribes or even knew about Laurie.
- So you're saying your mum's an immigrant who bought the papers and seduced you with special drugs?
- I'm afraid, Richie, it's much worse than that," the duke shook his head. - Such drugs cannot be found in the public domain. To create them requires a serious chemical laboratory. Besides, an ordinary person can't make the documents without leaving traces. The detective has come to believe that Lori Cabot is a member of a foreign intelligence agency. Possibly CIA or KGB. After all, we Grosvenors aren't just one of the richest people in Britain. We are also members of the royal family and have a lot of political clout because we have a seat in the House of Lords.
Richie rounded his eyes and exclaimed:
- Wow! Just like a detective story. I hope they don't pull a stunt like that on me.
- I hope so too, Richie.
- Dad, couldn't the detectives find Mum?
- They couldn't, even though they're the best at what they do. And that's a strong indication that the Secret Service is involved. Otherwise, Laurie would have left some clue that they could find her. She disappeared without a trace, like she vanished. The stolen valuables didn't show up anywhere either. I've beefed up security at the estate just in case.
- Why? - Richard wondered.- There is a fear that Mum might kidnap you to blackmail me. So, Richie, be careful. If you meet Mum, don't get excited and don't go anywhere with her. Call John and Stephen right away.
- Who's Stephen? - Ritchie asked.
- It's not good to forget the names of the servants," the Duke said, a note of displeasure in his voice. - Stephen is your driver and part-time guard.
- He doesn't look like a guard," the boy said. - Well... He's kind of... inconspicuous, you know. Ordinary.
- Exactly! - The Duke raised his index finger. - That's because Stephen is a top-level specialist. He's supposed to be inconspicuous and ordinary-looking. And in fact, he served in a special unit of the British Special Forces and once worked in the Queen's security service. So don't be dismissive of people with such qualifications, they are extremely rare. If you insult Stephen, it's going to be very hard to find another guard like him.
- Got it, I'll be nice to him.
- Son, you have to be polite to everyone," the duke said in an instructive tone. - You are an aristocrat, which means that you must be impeccable and equally polite to people of your own circle, as well as to ordinary workers and servants. At the same time, however, you should not behave in a familial manner. You should keep a distance between yourself and the servants.
Richie thought this was a good time, so he asked his father:
- "Dad, I'd like to take an extracurricular at school. Can that be arranged?
- Ritchie, how do you envisage it?
- Well... - the boy scratched the back of his head. - I know the primary school curriculum pretty well. All I need to do is English and computer science. I suppose I can pass the secondary school programme too, if I put my mind to it.
- Well, I don't see any obstacles.
The father rejoiced at his child's desire for knowledge. Like any parent, he thought his child was smarter than he was. The Duke had no doubt that Richie was a genius and would be able to finish school much earlier than other children. He was willing to spend any money on his son. In fact, the boy may have been a genius, but it was hard to call him one. All his genius was that he had already been to school once and knew a lot of things. Plus the more organised mind of an adult.
What's the difference between an adult and a child? Mostly just having life experiences and the toys are different for adults. Plus they can allocate their time in a more organised way.
Children spend a lot of time on nonsense, are often distracted, they do not understand the meaning of learning. They want to play, not learn. An adult, on the other hand, understands that they need knowledge for the future. Or, as in the case of a tramp, he doesn't need knowledge, but a school-leaving certificate.
Richie wanted to get through the compulsory part as soon as possible. He realised that one way or another he would have to get at least a high school education. Instead of spending years going to school, he decided to spend a few years, so that in the future he would have the best of his youthful years to dispose of as he saw fit. After all, he's insanely rich and can afford to do anything: travel the world, have all sorts of fun, and have unencumbered affairs with young girls when he grows up.
- I'll tell John to take care of the matter: to make arrangements with the school and get you tutors. But, Richie, if you don't do well, you're going back to school. Besides, that doesn't mean you can't take fencing and economics.
- Good," Ritchie said happily. - Thank you, Father!
After dinner was over, Richie was glad that he wouldn't have to go to school again. And he was mentally prepared for the extra classes.
But in the end, he still had to go to school the next day.
Only a day later a tutor for the junior school programme appeared in the house. She turned out to be an elderly and strict woman, Jane Stevenson. She was at least fifty years old. She was as thin as a pole, dressed in strict, closed dresses of dark colours, and her dark hair, sprinkled with grey, was gathered in a bundle at the back of her head. Large horn-rimmed spectacles and perpetually pinched lips gave the lady an outward austerity.
On the first day, the tutor for the junior school programme had given Richie a test of her knowledge of all the lessons. At first she was sceptical about the rich pupil, but when she checked the tests, she was amazed to the core. She could not believe that a child of eight years old had such a broad knowledge, because the test was designed to test the knowledge of students of the first grade of secondary school, that is, for children of twelve years old.
After the new tutor left, Richie had a trip to the fencing section.
Upon returning home, the boy began to explore the house. There was a strange situation - the names of his grandfather, sisters, mother and ex-wife of the sixth Duke of Westminster were already known, but the name of the one to whom Richie addressed "father" or "dad" - not. It was this information that the fallen man was trying to find.Richie sat in his father's study, waited until the valet left him alone, and then began to examine the documents. This tactic showed its effectiveness almost immediately. In the very first letter the boy found an address to the addressee:
Mr Gerald Cavendish Grosvenor.
"Gerald, then," thought Richie. - Well, at least now I know my father's name. I think I'm doing a pretty good job of being Richard Grosvenor so far. At least no one has noticed that the boy has changed much. On the other hand, do people often notice a change in a child's behaviour? Perhaps loving parents would quickly detect the switch, but Gerald has distanced himself from his son, he does not know what Richie should be, since he sees the child at breakfast and dinner. And for John, raising a child is just a job. Even at the time of the hit, he mistook the odd behaviour for pretence for the sake of not going to school. All the Chamberlain cares about is that I am healthy, washed, dressed, attend class on time and do my homework, otherwise he might get a painful hit on his bonus."
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