Gail Whitiker (6 page)

After that, the servants were dismissed so that only the family members remained.

Lady Winthrop had again been generous, dispensing gifts of money and personal effects to almost every member of the family. Her sister, Prudence, received
several pieces of very fine jewellery, and her first cousin, Lady MacInnes, was left a particularly beautiful fan that had been given to Lady Winthrop by the King.

‘Lastly, I come to my son, Robert, and my daughter, Hannah,’ Mr Haberford read in a suitably solemn voice. ‘I shall not go into Robert’s portion, as the terms of his inheritance are set out by law and by the right of succession. However, I do wish to make provision for my daughter, which I have set out as follows. To Hannah, I leave my sapphire necklace, ring, and bracelet, as well as the Winthrop emeralds, the diamonds having already gone to Robert.’ The lawyer stopped to glance at Robert, but receiving only a brief nod, continued. ‘I further bequeath to her the sum of thirty thousand pounds, to be put immediately into her possession, and with no stipulations whatsoever as to its use.’

A soft gasp echoed around the room. Hannah merely stared; stunned by the fortune she had just been left.

‘Furthermore,’ the lawyer went on, ‘it is my wish that Gillingdon Park continue to be her home until either she or Robert marry. This may engender some discussion between my children, but knowing them both to be of sensible mind and completely lacking in avarice, I foresee no problems arising from it. If, however, Hannah wishes to leave Gillingdon Park and to use some of her inheritance to purchase an establishment of her own, she is entirely free to do so.’

It was a most unusual bequest, and Hannah couldn’t help risking a sideways glance at Robert, wondering what he would have to say about it. But his face gave nothing away. He might have been carved of granite for all the emotion he displayed.

‘My final request,’ Mr Haberford went on, ‘is that Robert be held accountable for Hannah’s welfare until
she is safely married. It will soon become known that she is an heiress and while I have no concerns about Hannah’s common sense, I do have doubts about the scruples of some of the gentlemen who will wish to court her. This is not a formal guardianship as I do not believe either would welcome it, but I feel that protection of some kind is required for a young lady possessed of both beauty and fortune. And that,’ Mr Haberford said, closing his file, ‘concludes the reading of the final will of the late Viscountess Winthrop.’

Hannah heard the murmur of conversation as her family began to get up and move around, but for some reason, she was unable to do the same. Her legs seemed totally incapable of movement, and even had they been capable, she was not sure they would have been strong enough to support her.

Dear heavens, what was she to make of it all? She had just been granted not only a small fortune in money and jewels, but also the right to remain at Gillingdon Park until either she or Robert married. And given that neither of them seemed anxious to settle, it could be a stay of some duration.

But what would her brother have to say about it? It was an unusual stipulation to say the least, and one she had no doubt he would be most unhappy about, given his position in life and his relationship to her.

‘Oh, my dear, I am so
very
pleased for you,’ Lady Montgomery said, obviously suffering no such qualms. ‘Thirty thousand pounds
and
the Winthrop emeralds! La, you will be quite the independent young lady now!’

Hannah finally did manage to stand, but she quickly placed her hands on the back of the chair for support. ‘I will indeed, Aunt, but I must say, I am completely taken
aback by it all. I never expected Mama to be so generous.’

‘But why would she not be, child? She loved you dearly, and in reality, all she has done is assure you of your dowry. After all, had Lottie not made provision for it, your brother would have been forced to do so from his own funds. This way, there is no need for him to be involved.’

‘Except that he must approve whomever I wish to marry,’ Hannah said, unable to keep a trace of resentment from her voice.

‘Now, Hannah, your mother did not say that Robert
had
to approve your choice of husband. She merely said he was to look out for your welfare, and how onerous a task can that be? You are both sensible adults. I doubt Robert will be called upon to correct any errors in judgement on your part. The gentlemen who court you will do so for any number of reasons, but you are intelligent enough to recognise a fortune hunter when you see one. Personally, I think my dear sister was merely trying to ensure that the two of you do not lose touch.’

Hannah sighed. It might have been an altruistic thought on her mother’s part, but it was hardly an encouraging prospect for her or her brother. She was quite sure Robert would have preferred to see as little of her as possible once all of this was over. And she certainly didn’t believe he would be happy about being made responsible for her welfare until the time of her marriage.

She wished she knew what his feelings about the matter really were, but it seemed she was not destined to find out. Robert did not approach her after the reading of the will. Instead, he walked across to the lawyer and engaged him in what looked to be a very serious conversation. She saw Mr Haberford nod, and then glance
across the room at her. But he did not signal her to join them, and moments later, he and Robert left the room.

Hannah couldn’t help wondering what that brief look had been about. Or what the two gentlemen had felt it necessary to go off to another room to discuss.

The day’s surprises were not over. At the conclusion of dinner that evening, Hannah was enjoying some quiet conversation with her aunt and uncle in the parlour—her brother having once again returned to the library—when there came a knock at the door and Mr Mudd walked in. He hesitated for a moment on the threshold, the expression on his face prompting Hannah to get up and move towards him. ‘Yes, Mr Mudd?’

‘Pardon the interruption, Miss Hannah, but Lady MacInnes has arrived.’

‘Oh, splendid. Would you be so good as to show her in?’ Hannah said, genuinely looking forward to seeing her mother’s first cousin.

‘I already have, miss.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

The butler looked uncomfortable. ‘Lady MacInnes asked me to give you her regards, and then to take her to see Lord Winthrop.’

Having spent years learning the proper way to behave, Hannah knew how to control her features. She was grateful for that training now. ‘Of course. Then I would be happy if you would bring Lady MacInnes here upon the conclusion of her meeting with my brother, Mr Mudd.’

‘Very good, miss.’

As the butler left, Hannah rejoined her aunt and uncle, but she could not help but wonder at her cousin’s behaviour. Lady MacInnes had not remained close to either her or Robert, and indeed, Hannah doubted Robert had
seen any more of Lady MacInnes than she had over the last twenty years. And yet her cousin had asked to see her brother in private before paying her respects to her dear departed cousin, her surviving daughter and to the rest of the family.

Well, Robert was the head of the household now, and Hannah supposed it was only natural that people would look to him first. There was no point in feeling miffed. She was just going to have to get used to the fact that this
was
Robert’s house, and that no matter what the lawyer said, she was only a guest in it. Which meant there was nothing she could do but wait until her brother summoned her, or bide her time until Lady MacInnes was ready to see her.

What a pity, Hannah reflected, that she hadn’t learned patience as well as she had some of her other lessons.

In the library, Robert greeted with genuine warmth the elegantly dressed lady whom Mr Mudd had just brought to the room. ‘Cousin Margaret,’ he said, crossing to take her hand. ‘It is a pleasure to see you again after all these years. And looking very well, I might add.’

The tall, regal-looking lady inclined her head, though her lips pulled into a rueful smile. ‘It has been years, Robert, though I fear time has not been as kind to me as it has been to you. I have grown old, while you have only grown more handsome.’

Robert’s mouth curved upwards in a smile. ‘I’ve always held beauty to be in the eye of the beholder, Cousin. I’m sure that what I see in you is seen by everyone else too.’

She did indeed look well, Robert reflected, though he couldn’t deny that she had changed. The last time he’d seen his mother’s first cousin, her hair had been as dark
as Hannah’s. Now it was almost white. Surprisingly, however, it only added to the elegance of her appearance. He suspected that she was somewhere in her late fifties, but her gown of black bombazine was of the first stare, and her straw bonnet tied with black lace was extremely becoming.

Robert knew that his mother and Lady MacInnes had once been very close. Indeed, it was to Burgley Hall in Scotland that his mother had retired after his father’s death. It was there too, that she had given birth to Hannah. But something had happened in the weeks following his sister’s birth. For some reason, the two women had suffered a falling out. At least, Robert had always assumed that that was what had happened. He knew from his Aunt Prudence that Lady MacInnes had stopped coming to Gillingdon Park, and that his mother had never paid a return visit to Burgley Hall.

He, of course, not being close to his mother, and not inclined to write to his cousin, had never learned the reasons why. Nor did it matter now. Lady MacInnes had come to pay her final respects to his mother, and hopefully, to put aside whatever manner of argument had caused them to distance themselves from one another in the first place.

‘How is Lord MacInnes?’ Robert enquired. ‘I recall Hannah saying that he was not well.’

‘He is much recovered now, thank you, Robert. We were all quite concerned at the time, but the doctor has assured me that the worst is over, and that with rest, he will be fine.’

‘Was he well enough for you to leave him unattended while you came to see us?’

Lady MacInnes smiled. ‘He is not unattended. My daughter, Fiona, is looking after him, and I trust her to
do whatever is necessary. But I had to come, Robert. And I had to come now. Not only to pay my last respects to your mother, but to see you.’

Something in her voice caught Robert’s attention. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘I wish I could say that it was, but what I have come to say will not be easy for you to hear, and it will come as a tremendous shock. But I have wrestled long and hard with my conscience and feel I cannot remain silent any longer.’

Wondering what manner of news could be so alarming, Robert leaned back against the edge of the desk. ‘Then tell me what you came to say, Cousin. And pray, do it quickly, for I have found that suspense is only effective when employed upon the stage.’

‘Do not mock, Robert,’ Lady MacInnes scolded. ‘This is not a matter to be taken lightly. What I am about to say will have far-reaching consequences on your life and on the lives of many others. And you may trust me when I say it is nothing you are expecting to hear.’

Robert could see that Lady MacInnes was indeed uncomfortable with the news she was about to impart, and for the first time, felt a frisson of alarm. ‘Has this anything to do with you personally?’

‘Mercifully, no.’

‘Then, with some other member of your family? Cedric is not in any kind of trouble? Or Fiona?’

‘Thank God, they are both fine. No, this has nothing to do with my immediate family, but rather with yours.’

‘Mine?’
And then, Robert knew. ‘Hannah.’

Lady MacInnes stared at him. ‘How did you know?’

‘Process of elimination, I suppose. My mother and father are dead and I am well, so that only leaves Hannah.’

‘Well, I fear you are right. It does concern your sister,’ Lady MacInnes told him. ‘Or rather, with she whom you have always
believed
to be your sister.’

Robert strove to ignore the sudden pounding of his heart.
Believed to be?
Surely that telling remark meant he was about to receive confirmation of what he had always suspected.

‘Would it help you to know, Margaret,’ he said slowly, ‘that what you are about to tell me may not be as much of a shock as you think?’

‘It may help me in the telling of it, but I cannot believe it would come as any less of a shock to you, especially given what you know of your mother.’

‘Perhaps it is
because
of what I know of her that the shock will not be so great,’ Robert said, in a voice that was barely above a whisper. He pushed himself away from the desk, but rather than look at his cousin, he turned towards the fireplace and stared down into the grate. ‘If you are about to tell me that Hannah is not who my mother has always led us to believe, pray do not trouble yourself. I already know that Hannah…is not my sister.’

Lady MacInnes caught her breath. ‘
Dear heavens!
How could you ever have guessed such a thing?’

‘Guessing had nothing to do with it. I learned of my mother’s infidelity when I was quite young.’

There was a brief, but weighty pause. ‘Your mother’s
infidelity
?’

‘Yes. But even had I not discovered the degree to which she betrayed my father, I would eventually have found out the truth about Hannah.’ Robert turned to look at his cousin—and was astonished to see her looking even more stricken than before. ‘What’s the matter? Have I not the right of it?’

‘You are right in believing that Hannah is not your sister, but not that your mother was unfaithful to your father.’ Lady MacInnes slowly stood up. ‘Oh, my dear boy, wherever did you get such a dreadful idea?’

Robert stared back at her, aware of a rushing sound in his ears.
His mother had not been unfaithful?
‘I overheard Mama talking to her maid. It was…many years ago now, but I remember it as clearly as though it were yesterday. They said that…Hannah was not my father’s child.’

‘And they were telling the truth. She is not.’