A Strange Likeness (5 page)

Ned was looking fuddled at the end of this precise and exact recital. The two women thought all over again how little the two men really resembled one another.

Almeria's expression was one of astonishment for another reason. ‘You are saying that your mother is one of the Warings of Essendene? I had understood that it was
the Lorings who stood to inherit—through their grandmother.'

‘You mean my friend, Victor Loring?' Ned offered. ‘I had heard that he'd had a great disappointment recently over a will. They're as poor as church mice.'

He looked respectfully at Alan, who, despite his apparently dubious origins, had turned out to be related to one of the oldest families in England.

Alan was amused to notice by their changed expressions that his worthless grandfather, Fred, a remittance man who had died of drink, having gambled away what little he had left, leaving Alan's mother penniless, had given him an introduction into high society which his own father's sterling qualities could not have achieved for him.

‘Fancy that. Related to Caroline and Victor Loring,' laughed Ned. ‘You have a whole pack of relatives over here whom you do not know. And plenty more cousins to discover, I'll be bound. The Warings married into all the best families.'

Unspoken was the question, How did your mama come to marry an ex-felon? Politeness rendered them all silent, but left them bursting with curiosity.

Alan decided to be downright. ‘They can scarcely be expected to wish to know an Australian cousin who has come to dispossess them—for that is how they will see it.'

‘Nonsense,' said Almeria sharply. ‘If your mother's claim is a true one, then the laws of succession must hold.'

‘With respect, Lady Stanton, my father would not agree with you. The women in our family have been given the same rights as men. They, and my elder twin brother, Thomas and myself, all have the same legal
standing. He does not hold with primogeniture or the subjection of women.'

‘Your twin,' said Eleanor, sparkling at him. ‘Is he Ned's double, too?'

‘Fortunately not. Begging your pardon, Ned. He is very much like my mother—and her long dead brother Rowland, she says. Except that Thomas is tall and dark while she is little and dark. Had he gone to the theatre no one would have taken him for Ned.'

Eleanor pursued a point. ‘You said that your sisters were equal in law with you and your brothers. Can that really be true? We women have so many constraints and Mr Dudley, Charles's tutor, tells me that we have no legal existence at all.'

‘My father had contracts and settlements drawn up for them. One of his sayings is, “In matters of judgement sooner a clever woman than a dull man.”'

‘Is this commonplace in the colony, Mr Dilhorne?'

‘By no means, Lady Stanton. I fear that our women are under even more constraints than they are in England, and are even less regarded. The Patriarch—I mean my father—is, however, very much his own man.'

‘Well, he would be my man,' said Eleanor decidedly, ‘if he treats women so well.'

‘Eleanor, you forget yourself,' said Almeria, ever ready to rebuke her great-niece when she showed her old outlaw spirit.

Alan regarded Ned's radiant sister with approval. There was obviously much more to her than there was to her charmingly lightweight brother.

‘With respect, Lady Stanton, I think that the Patriarch would admire Miss Hatton greatly.'

The look Eleanor gave him was glowing. His smile
made her tingle all over in the oddest manner. No man had ever affected her in such a strange way before.

Throughout the dinner which followed, where Alan knew how to use all the right knives and forks—doubtless his mother's influence being Almeria's inward comment—the good impression which he had made on the two women grew with each passing moment.

By unspoken agreement Alan was quizzed no further until, sitting over their port, the women having retired into the little drawing room, Ned remarked, a trifle roughly for him, ‘Do you always make such a good impression on the ladies, Dilhorne?'

Alan's answer was an oblique question. ‘Lady Stanton and Miss Hatton approved of me, then?'

‘You know dam'd well they did.'

‘Excellent. It's nice to know.'

The contrast between the two men could not have been more marked. Ned drank heavily of the port, Alan drank little, and by the time they rejoined Almeria and Eleanor in the drawing room Ned's drawl was already blurred. He was not entirely sure that he liked his women approving so much of his new friend—it took a little of his pleasure in him away.

Alan, meantime, contented himself with admiring both Miss Hatton and her great-aunt, for entirely different reasons!

 

Eleanor Hatton had to admit that she was fascinated by Ned's new friend. It was not the likeness which intrigued her, but the differences between them. Not only was Alan so much cleverer than Ned, but she also liked Alan's easy athletic carriage, which was such a strong contrast to Ned's slouch.

For the first time in her short life she found sleep slow
in coming. She relived her first meeting with Alan: something which she had never done before. Her great-aunt had said to her after he had left, ‘Mr Dilhorne seems to be a worthy young man, my dear, despite his doubtful origins. We must not condemn a man because of his father's mistakes.'

‘The Essendene connection must count for something, too,' Eleanor had said, trying not to sound too eager.

‘If it's proved,' Almeria had replied dryly—although she had no real doubts. ‘It's hard on the Lorings, though.'

Eleanor agreed. Caroline Loring, a shy, pretty girl, was one of her London friends—although she had told Eleanor nothing about the problem of the Essendene inheritance. Consequently, the next afternoon Eleanor took the Stantons' carriage and was driven to Russell Square, where the Lorings, Alan's cousins, lived.

They were all at home: tea was just being served. Victor, who had been about to go out, put down his gloves, hat and cane when she was announced, and returned to the drawing room.

‘I've decided to stay for tea after all,' he said.

He was already half in love with Eleanor, and the fact that she was Sir Hartley Hatton's granddaughter, and would have a good dowry when she married and stood to inherit even more when the old man died, was an attraction to a man whose family was perennially short of money.

Eleanor was not sure how much she liked Victor. At first she had been drawn to him, because he was not only tall and dark, but handsome as well. Unfortunately he did not improve on further acquaintance, and if she was not sure whether or not she wished to marry Stacy she had no doubt that Victor would not do as a husband. His
manner to his mother and his sister was frequently unpleasant and dismissive.

That his manner to Eleanor was always charming and courteous somehow made matters worse, not better. Only pity for Caroline kept her friendly with the Lorings at all. Victor, armoured in conceit, was quite unaware of her aversion to him.

Today the conversation turned immediately to the question of Hester Dilhorne's claim to the Waring fortune and estates. It was like a sore tooth to Victor, and to a lesser extent to his mother and sister. Their father had already succumbed—at a relatively early age—to his dissolute life. He had been a boon companion of Ned Hatton's father and uncle.

Before Eleanor had time to tell them that she had met Hester Dilhorne's son, Victor exclaimed viciously, in the middle of a long tirade, ‘How do we know that the dam'd woman, her felon husband, and the whole Dilhorne family aren't gross impostors anyway?'

‘Oh, Victor, we've been over all this before,' said his mother wearily. ‘You know that the lawyers have affidavits from Sir Patrick Ramsay and Colonel Frank Wright testifying that they knew your great-uncle Fred, and Hester. Colonel Wright was even a guest at her wedding to Tom Dilhorne. There's no real cause for doubt, I'm sorry to say.'

‘Then why did your cousin Hester forget herself and marry a dam'd ex-felon is what I want to know?' said Victor ferociously, forgetting his manners and his speech before ladies. ‘And why did Sir John lose his mind and settle everything on her?'

‘I expect that there were few others she could marry,' said Caroline quietly.

‘Well, she should have had nothing to do with the
brute, remained a spinster and not done us out of what we had come to expect.'

Eleanor decided that this was one of the days when she disliked Victor. She was remembering the pride and affection with which Alan Dilhorne had spoken of his father, the man Victor was calling a brute.

‘I met Hester Dilhorne's son last night,' she said at last, when Victor had run down.

Victor was incredulous. ‘Met him? Here? In London?'

‘Well, I could hardly have met him in Sydney, Australia, could I?' asked Eleanor reasonably, unable to resist teasing Victor a little, even at this serious juncture. ‘Ned met him by accident at the theatre the other evening and brought him home to dinner last night. Only fancy. He is Ned's double, but bigger, I think. His name is Alan Dilhorne.'

‘Looks like Ned, only bigger, named Dilhorne, and here in England. The whole thing grows more unlikely every minute—which I have already told you, Mama.'

Really, thought Eleanor, Victor can be very wearisome at times.

‘He can scarcely be a gentleman if he comes from Botany Bay and is an ex-felon's son,' ranted Victor. ‘How in the world did Lady Stanton allow such a creature to sit down to dinner with her at all?'

‘His manners are perfectly good, although I admit that his clothes are odd,' said Eleanor, suddenly indignant on Alan's behalf. ‘He struck me as remarkably clever, although Ned laughed when I said so. “No one with his face could be clever,” he said. Great-Aunt agreed with me, not him.'

She did not add that her great-aunt had said that the young man was inconveniently clever, and was apparently not aware of it. Almeria had noticed, even on this
short acquaintance, that young Dilhorne appeared to be able to control Ned, a feat which no one else had ever performed.

He had reconciled Ned to his loss of the Cremorne expedition, and had quietly checked him at dinner when Ned had begun to speak of unsuitable topics before Eleanor. Later, when Charles had come down into the drawing room after dinner, he had entranced him by telling him of his intention to inspect railway lines and engines while he was in England, Charles being of a mechanical bent.

His charm was enormous, and it had certainly impressed Eleanor and Almeria, as well as Ned and Charles. Eleanor found herself spiritedly defending him.

After Victor had indulged in some further rant, for his anger at being dispossessed had been fuelled by the arrival in England of one of his dispossessors, Eleanor said quietly, ‘You know, Cousin Clara—' she was distantly related to Victor's mother ‘—I think that Victor wrongs him. Mr Dilhorne said that his mother was all for a reconciliation with you, and with his other relatives in England whom she does not know, and that he hopes to achieve one before he leaves.'

‘A likely tale,' sneered Victor, ‘and easy for him to say when he has taken all.'

Eleanor decided all over again that this was one of the days when she definitely disliked Victor. ‘Seeing that he is the younger twin, and that his father apparently does not believe in primogeniture, he will only take his share. Furthermore, since the lawyers took some time to trace his mama, she could scarcely have connived at influencing Sir John.'

Clara Loring took a hand when Victor, red in the face, began to answer Eleanor.

‘You have to admit that it is quite beyond us to affect matters now, Victor,' she said wearily. ‘The young man must have brought proof of Cousin Hester's existence and her marriage, so we must reconcile ourselves to accepting that Sir John's will must stand. It is both unmannerly and fruitless to continue to rail at fate. It is certainly not poor Eleanor's fault that Ned has become acquainted with him. If it proves that the lawyers are satisfied by the young man's evidence, it will be our duty to receive him, once at least, for my cousin Hester's sake. Let that be all for now.'

‘But, Mama,' began Victor.

‘No, that is quite enough. There are other topics to occupy us. Eleanor will think us all savages to go on so. Tell me, my dear, when do you hope to return to Yorkshire? I know how much you miss the country.'

‘I don't know exactly when I shall go home,' murmured Eleanor, relieved that the question of the Waring inheritance had been dropped. ‘I suppose when Great-Aunt thinks that I am sufficiently polished.'

‘You look remarkably well polished to me,' said Victor, who was suddenly worried that his recent churlishness might have put Eleanor off him. He was not wrong. Eleanor did not like this new face which Victor had shown her, so different from that of his usually easy self. His anger over the whole business seemed excessive.

Victor could have told her that it was not. The Lorings had been financially desperate even before his own folly had made matters worse. The prospect of inheriting Essendene, and his possible marriage to Eleanor, were the only things which had kept them going.

They had borrowed heavily on their expectations.

Their creditors would allow them no more rope once Hester Dilhorne's claim had been proved. What would
happen to them after that Victor dared not imagine. Only a rich marriage could save them, otherwise they were ruined.

He devoted his efforts to trying to charm Eleanor again, but she left earlier than she had intended. Her manner to him was as pleasant as usual, but he was unhappily aware that that meant nothing: Almeria Stanton had turned her into the very model of a complete young lady of fashion, who never gave any of her true feelings away.

By the way that Eleanor had carried on about that colonial swine, Dilhorne, he had obviously made it his business to win her over—which was another nail in the coffin of Victor's hopes.