With apologies to Jane Austin.

On the west coast of Scotland devoid of most human life and set on a small spit of land that divides two open sea locks is Castle Cray, known locally by the few that survived the land clearance schemes of my ancestors as Hind castle. Not because of the deer that replaced human habitation but more because of the fact that with a little imagination, looking from the lofty heights of Ben Morbech which towers above the two lochs, the sea's outline takes the shape of the rearmost part of the human anatomy and that is the way the indigenous people regard my ancestors, following the way they behaved towards them. They seem totally unaware that many of their relatives are now so much better off with their new lives in the New World.

As our beloved Daimler swept through the gates and over the small stone bridge that kept the castle safe from the mainland, I looked at my husband sitting next to me and he gave my hand a slight squeeze to help stay my nerves. My father sitting in the front alongside the Chauffeur stared straight ahead as though nothing was amiss though what thoughts were going through his head one could only conjecture.

We drew up into the small courtyard and I could see my two brothers had already arrived, no doubt after some hectic racing in their Ferraris' along the narrow roads that led down to the castle. The dents and splatters of blood on one of the cars bore out my surmise and the under gardener was even now trying to obliterate the stains with a rag and hot water contained within a plastic bucket.

Our chauffeur held open the door for me and I alighted onto the smooth cobbles and had to wait for my husband to take my hand to help me avoid catching the heels of my shoes between them, then we three followed one of my uncle's menials alongside the castle and around to a large sun terrace. Here at a wooden table and under the shades of large umbrellas sat my two brothers Daniel and David, Daniel was sitting very stiffly facing the table with a rather large, for him, whisky in one hand while the older of the two, David, sat sprawled facing away from both Daniel and the table balancing his whisky on his knee. Apart from the drinks they were holding, the only other similarity between the two was the dark blue blazer, buttonholed an army logo, and the light grey trousers each were wearing. That of course was the visible similarity, beyond that they were as different as they could possibly be, Daniel in training for the Church whilst David was Stock brokering and always ready for the quick deal in central London.

As we were escorted to where we were expected to sit, my father between his two sons and Michael, my husband, and I on the other side of the table, drinks were put in our hands, again, whisky for the menfolk whilst I was given a tall glass containing lemonade. It was then that my uncle, Lord Armstrong of Cray, made his entrance from a wooden door set in the grey stone wall of the castle, he looked much older than when I last saw him, his wispy white hair now trying to cover his deeply mottled red and grey scalp which I presumed was caused by his sitting so long in the treacherous conditions, so far north of London and his purple darkly veined nose disclosing his passion for the local malt whisky seemed even more bulbous. His skinny legs with veins matching those of his nose were only partially covered by the kilt of the Hunting Stuart that he wore. Walking closely behind him was a much younger man, upright, emphasising my uncles bent stature, carrying a heavy looking brief case and dressed in a suit of almost the blackest material that I have ever seen. It would certainly have stood well against our vicar's cassock that he wears regularly at our church each Sunday and I decided he must be my uncles solicitor.

The old man stood before us, no welcome, merely a dignified stare then sat himself at a smaller table facing us. The servant who had escorted us to our places fumbled with my uncles umbrella then pulled out another chair for the solicitor who sat, put his heavy case in front of him and bent fumbling for a few moments before retrieving a large wad of papers.

My uncle watched and waited for him to do this, then turning back to us he gave each of us another dignified stare before taking a generous mouthful from his glass. "As you may or may not have guessed, I have decided to take a form of retirement," he said. "We breathed a sigh of simulated astonishment, though I'm sure we all believed that this would be the case.

"Yes, I've made up my mind to travel and eventually settle at my cattle ranch in Australia, where I am informed the weather will be more suitable for my arthritis. As I have no intention of returning to this estate and having no heirs of my own, having never thought it necessary to go to the expense of a wife, I am making my bequests before I go. They will of course be made formal after my death but I have decided not to wait that long before passing over the responsibility."

I could not see my father's face from my seat but he must have made some gesture as my uncle looked directly at him. "No Henry, you gain nothing with this, though you will of course have fishing rights in either of my two lochs and knowing that you like sea views, I have bought you a very useful flat overlooking the docks at Ardrossan, I shall need to sell the mansion you have been living in all these years to help pay for my travels. Apart from the fact that, I can't be too sure you'll outlive me anyway, the wording of our family deeds, as you must be aware, is that our estate does not necessarily follow on to the oldest succeeding heir but to whosoever the present estate holder decides should be his heir. I have decided therefore to pass the title deeds to your son.." I saw David stiffen obviously ready to explode in a display of grateful pleasure. "Daniel, I believe him honest enough to carry out any wishes that I may put on him. Of course, I shall expect him to give up that confounded church thing that he's got himself involved with.

"David, will act as his consultant but certainly not his conscience. I do not trust that young man any further than I can see him without the aid of my spectacles, and Anna," he looked directly at me, "will be able to stay on in her house in Maidenhead with that useless husband of hers, providing he finds himself employment to pay the rent that I've decided to impose."

...and so the story continues, how can Daniel carry on with his church and yet inherit the estate? How could David who believes himself to be the rightful inheritor manage to get the estate from him? And what about Dad? He's probably not feeling best pleased. Then of course there's Anna herself, is she content with writing up this piece of family history or would she conspire with Michael to change its future? All this depends on those who feel the inheritance is just and those who feel their actions would be justifiable.