The Heiresses (44 page)

Authors: Allison Rushby

BOOK: The Heiresses

3.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Felix said nothing for a moment or two, but glared at Mrs. Blount in silence, as if assessing what she might know, or might have guessed.

It was then Clio remembered he had asked to speak to her later on. “Do you have something to tell me?” she asked her father, from the other side of the dining table.

“Yes,” Felix said as he sighed. “Yes, Clio, I do.”

“Go on, then.” Mrs. Blount pointed the knife in her direction, taking one step closer to Clio. “Tell her.”

Edwin began to move.

“Stay. There.” Mrs. Blount moved to point the knife at him. “Or I move even closer.”

Edwin stopped. Clio was now a little more than an arm’s-length away from Mrs. Blount.

When it was obvious Edwin would move no more, Mrs. Blount changed direction once more, moving the knife back toward Felix. “Continue.”

Felix took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Clio. I wanted to tell you this the first day we met, then every time we have met since. But it’s as I said before—there has never been a right time, which is why I asked to speak to you later this evening.”

Clio felt her whole body begin to shake with the stress of the situation and had to put a hand on the table to steady herself. “Go on,” she said, with a ragged breath, barely able to look at Felix.

“I do not know how Mrs. Blount has found out, for I did believe no one knew, or would ever know, but Demeter’s marriage to William was not a real one.”

Across the table, Hestia cried out. “What? Not real? But what do you mean?”

“I mean it was not a real marriage because she was already married. To me.” He turned to Hestia. “The week we ran away, we were married. At Gretna Green. I went and lived there for a month beforehand so it would be legally possible. We thought we could present our marriage to our parents on a silver platter and they would have to accept it. However, they thought otherwise and I was forcibly sent abroad. They managed to persuade Demeter that it had not been a legal marriage, though it had.”

“But that means…” Thalia glanced first at Ro, then Clio.

“Yes, only Clio is legitimate.” Felix bowed his head, looking thoroughly disgraced. “Demeter and I were, in fact, married when she was born.”

“Which makes Ro and I illegitimate and Clio none other than Lady Clio.” Thalia looked amazed.

“Yes,” Felix replied. “It does. Do forgive me, for having to tell all of you in this manner. I would have admitted it sooner, years ago even, but I did not want any part in destroying your mother’s good name, Clio. Also, I was not, of course, even aware of your existence.”

“Good name?!” Mrs. Blount cackled. “That harlot?”

“Stop it!” Clio released her grasp on the table and turned now. She had had enough. Enough of this woman’s shadowy presence in their lives. “Just stop it!” Acting only on impulse, she took a step toward Mrs. Blount. A step closer to the knife.

Mrs. Blount looked wildly around her with Clio’s sudden advance, unsure of what to do.

“Clio, no!” Edwin ran now from the other side of the table, Felix close behind him. Within seconds, they were upon Mrs. Blount, trying desperately to release the knife from her grasp.

In the scuffle, Mrs. Blount was pushed to the floor, screeching at the top of her lungs, kicking and thrusting the knife wildly as hard as she possibly could. Once, twice, Clio thought Edwin and Felix had overcome her, but her crazed strength, combined with the slashing of the knife, was not easily contained.

“Felix! Be careful!” Clio cried out, as Mrs. Blount made to slice at his leg.

A subtle movement by the doorway caused Clio to whip her head around. However, it was only one of the servants, peeking around the doorway, trying to ascertain what was happening within the room. And with her—oh, thank God—was a police constable. No, two police constables. So, the servants had called for the police after all.

With the police at hand, Mrs. Blount was restrained within mere seconds, with Haggis McTavish appearing from his downstairs confines at the last moment to give her a timely nip upon the ankle.

It was only as the two police constables dragged Mrs. Blount from the room that Clio looked up and saw the blood oozing from Edwin’s shirt, dripping slowly down his trousers and onto the rug beneath his feet.

Then, unable to bear her own weight for one minute longer, Clio sunk to the floor.

* * *

Hestia was rarely nervous, but today she sat on the edge of her seat, her hands clasped together firmly, hoping everything would run smoothly, as she was sure all mothers did on their daughters’ wedding days, or nieces’ wedding days, as the case may be.

Clio and Edwin stood before the altar, reciting their vows. Clio looked radiant in her gown of deep ivory silk chiffon. Thalia had tried to persuade her sister to embellish the gown with pearls and silver thread, but, for once, Clio had stood her ground. Now, Hestia saw she was right—the simple dress suited her well and the gift of Brussels lace that Hestia had made her, a family heirloom, had been fashioned into a spectacular short train—all the embellishment her beautiful niece needed.

Thankfully, Edwin had recovered well from both the cut he had received on his arm care of Mrs. Blount
and
the broken thumb he had received care of Thalia (Hestia could barely look at the poor boy’s mother—she must think them complete savages!). Oddly, she did seem rather appeased by the fact that the pair would leave on the boat tomorrow morning to begin their long journey to Kenya, where they would live for a short time with Edwin’s cousin before setting up house for themselves. Clio’s mother would, of course, accompany them and, everyone was happy to see, looked particularly well at the moment and more than capable of making the journey.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Ro whispered to Hestia. Hestia turned her head to see tears welling in her niece’s eyes. “That’s my sister, you know,” Ro continued, her words catching in her throat. “I always wanted a sister.”

Hestia said nothing, but reached out, took her niece’s hand, and held it, thinking of her own sister, so dearly loved and missed. She understood Ro’s heartfelt emotion.

Clio would make the finest of sisters. Her actions of the past week had made Hestia surely the proudest aunt in the land. When they learned that Demeter’s fortune was, in fact, rightfully Felix’s (as it was gifted upon marriage), they knew it should, thus, be turned over solely to Felix from Charles. Felix had pointed out that he was well aware Charles could hold on to the money, dragging the matter throughout the courts for years, but he also pointed out he would fight for Demeter’s money to the very end. Charles, knowing the duke had the resources and energy to do so, and not wanting even a whiff of scandal, or to lose his title, had readily been willing to release the entire fortune to Felix and had done so within days.

Felix, of course, had no need for the money and had turned the sum over in its entirety to Clio, to do with as she saw fit. Hestia knew Clio would divide the money equally among her sisters, but what happened next, she never expected. In fact, Clio divided the money equally between the triplets
and
Charles—all of William’s known children. “We have all suffered because of him” was Clio’s reasoning. “And this is my chance to put things right and for us all to begin again.” As for Mrs. Blount, she was now safely ensconced in a sanatorium, receiving the treatment she so desperately needed.

“What’s so funny?” Thalia asked, on Hestia’s other side.

Unbenownst to her, a smile had crept across Hestia’s face. “Oh, I was just thinking,” Hestia whispered. “I do not for a second doubt that the three of you will keep on surprising me until the day I die!” And how true this was. Not only had Clio’s selfless action surprised her, but Ro’s capacity to sit and read medical textbooks for hours and hours at a time, hoping to be offered a scholarship in order to read medicine at Oxford, had also astonished her (though she was, of course, as she had told Ro many times now, more than happy to fund her niece’s course of study). Still, no one who knew Ro had any doubt that it was Oxford where she would be residing, and studying, in the following year. And then there was Thalia, so keen to begin their plans for a home for girls. Only a month or so ago, she would never have believed Thalia would have the spirit or interest to think of others in this way. Her three nieces were so different and yet, at times, so very similar.

A shuffling below her feet made her glance down and smile. “No, Haggis McTavish,” she said aloud now, “I haven’t forgotten you.” She reached down to pat his small, white head, her thoughts drifting back to her nieces as she tousled his ears.

Yes, surprise her the girls might, but one thing Hestia knew for certain. Their new lives might see them leading wildly different existences, in different countries, but, despite this, they would always be close. No matter what troubles came their way in the future, the three of them would be able to face them—together.

Together, as they now were and as they always should have been.

Acknowledgments

When my brilliant agent, Sara Megibow, first contacted me about the opportunity to write for Dan Weiss, at St. Martin’s Press, I jumped at the chance. I’d been interested in working with Dan for years (hello! Sweet Valley High!), but what I didn’t know at the time was that I would also get to work with Dan’s fantastic team—I owe so much of
The Heiresses
to the guidance and wisdom of Vicki Lame, Sarah Jae-Jones, and Matt Martz. I have learned so much from all of you. I wrote
The Heiresses
while living in Cambridgeshire, in the UK, so a great thanks to London for being conveniently situated less than an hour away on the train. I’ll be back! Thanks also to my beta reading guinea pigs—my husband, David, my parents, Nilly and Paul.

Also by Allison Rushby

Shooting Stars

About the Author

Allison Rushby is a novelist from Brisbane, Australia. She is addicted to the fake cheese stuff on corn chips and is a slave to her diabetic Devon Rex cat, Violet. All this is a far cry from what she wanted to be when she was five years old—a ballerina with pierced ears. You can find out more about Allison at
www.allisonrushby.com
or follow her on Twitter at @Allison_Rushby.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

THE HEIRESSES.
Copyright © 2013 by Allison Rushby.

The chapters in this book were previously published as individual e-books.