“Yes, certainly, but do not give the reason yet, Annie. I will tell him in my own way, and in my own time.”
“I’ll write, and explain that you are feeling poorly.”
“Yes, but tell him we will not be taking the rooms, for Percival will want to find someone else. I must write to Isabel too. I am so relieved that we straightened out the business of Lord Ronald before this came up. Lady DeGrue will be on the alert to protect her now.”
“Will you continue writing for Arthur?” Annie asked later.
“No, I shall concentrate on my novel. Mrs. Speers is making a fortune. Besides, it’s fun. But I shall find it difficult to keep in the gloomy groove with all this good fortune. Isn’t it lovely being rich again, Annie? We’ll visit London one of these days.”
Anything that removed her from Bath and Arthur received short shrift. “I don’t see how London can be much nicer than Bath,” she said.
It was not a night for retiring early. Annie wrote all the necessary notes to give the pretence that I was ill, then we sat talking over wine. Annie would lend me a mourning gown for the solicitor’s visit, to fool Geoffrey. After we had ironed out these little difficulties, we planned out our future and mentally spent our fortune a dozen times. Eventually we did go to bed.
For the first time since the reading of the infamous will, I was at peace with my father. I even shed a private tear in memory. He had not meant to disinherit me, nor was Geoffrey such a deep-dyed villain as I feared. In my diary I acknowledged that two more sub-species of gentleman had earned redemption in my eyes. Fathers and cousin-suitors were allowed to possess a degree of fair-mindedness. At this rate there would be nothing left but Frenchmen to disparage. I dare say all Frenchies did not admire Rousseau, if it came to that.
It had been precipitous of me to dash away from home without having even
tried
to reach a settlement with my cousin. And that essay! I was in a mood to assume mourning for Papa now, and soon realized that it was impossible to do so in Bath. Unless I claimed I had just learned of my father’s death ... No, that would not do. I had already implied to friends that he had been dead for a year. Oh, what a tangled web we weave . . .
But it would work out somehow. It is impossible to be depressed when you have a set of papers turning twenty-five thousand pounds over to you. And a marquess lurking in the shadows. Even a duke would not turn up his nose at twenty-five thousand pounds. If Geoffrey could give me a handle to my name, it would be even better, but titles were not his to give, or he would have one himself. He would probably marry some noble lady now.
My last totally unworthy thought was that even if he did, he would still be only Mr. Nesbitt, while I would be the Marchioness of Paton. I would precede him in to dinner, if Paton and I ever visited Nesbitt Hall.
Chapter Thirteen
It is certainly not my intention to blame it all on Annie, but I
do
wish I had written those notes of explanation myself. I would have made them less ambiguous. It was bad enough that Isabel came to call the next afternoon, when Annie was supposed to have made clear I was too ill to receive visitors. Isabel very nearly caught me up and about, looking a fright in one of Annie’s black gowns. I managed to scuttle into my bedchamber and get a blanket up under my chin before she saw me.
This, of course, made it impossible for me to remove so much as an arm from under the coverings. The mad scurry made my face red, and she thought I was much iller than I was. What I mean is, she thought I was truly ill, and kept her distance. I did not encourage her to come nearer the bed, nor to linger.
Even in my agitated condition, I could see she was upset. We called a few words across the room, and before she left I asked, “How did Lord Ronald’s visit go, Isabel?” That, surely, was the cause of her condition.
An unshed tear shone in her eye, and when she replied, her voice was unsteady. “Auntie was dreadfully rude,” she said, tossing her curls. “She did not even offer him a glass of wine, and when I did, she said he was in too much of a hurry to stay. Naturally he left very soon after that, for Ronald is very sensitive to a slight. And now you’ve gone and taken a cold. How can I see him? How can I explain?”
“No explanation is necessary, Isabel. I trust he understands the situation. His advances are not welcome. If he is a gentleman, he will cease pestering you. And if he is not, you will want nothing to do with him in any case.”
She gave me a mutinous glare. “But they
are
welcome! I thought
you
would understand. Ronald is very intelligent and sensitive and handsome. Don’t you think he is handsome, Emma? Everyone says he looks like Lord Byron. He can handle the ribbons like a top fiddler, and quote Latin and Greek.”
There was a deal more of the same. She gave me to understand Lord Ronald was good at everything in the world except making an honest living, and I kept reiterating that he was a fortune hunter.
In the end, Isabel gave up in disgust and said, “If you were not ill, you would be in a better mood, and more helpful. Let me know as soon as you are able to go out again, Emma. I must go now.”
She whisked out of the room, eyes flashing, and ran right into Geoffrey and the solicitor, just entering the flat. I waited on nettles to hear how Annie mishandled this contretemps. But when Geoffrey espies a pretty heiress, he seldom permits anyone else to hold the floor. Annie introduced them to each other, and from then on the voice heard through the door was Geoffrey’s, with an occasional mumble from Isabel, who was in a hurry to leave. I hoped she would not do something foolish about meeting Lord Ronald.
As soon as Isabel said good-bye, I leapt out of bed, put on my slippers, and tidied my hair. The signing of the papers took only minutes. We required two witnesses. Annie was one; for the other, we called in Mr. Bellows, the least shameful of our fellow tenants. The solicitor had deposited my twenty-five thousand pounds in a bank in Bath, and handed me the book. I had only to go the bank and give them a specimen of my signature, and I could go on my spending spree.
We served wine to celebrate this joyful occasion. Bellows’s eyes were goggling out of their sockets. When the solicitor rose to leave, I put a hand on Bellows’s arm and accompanied him to the door as well.
“What has happened, Miss Nesbitt?” he inquired. “As you are in mourning, I assume someone close to you has died. How fortunate you are to have wealthy relatives.” He had managed to get a glimpse at what he was signing.
Not thinking, and wishing only to be rid of him, I said, “It is merely a transfer of funds to my name to permit me to live independently.”
“But why are you wearing Miss Potter’s black gown? If it your cousin who has—” He looked askance at Geoffrey, trying to discern whether a match was hatching, or if he might try his hand with me again.
“I would prefer if this could remain our little secret,” I said coyly. “You will not tell the others.”
“Certainly not!”
He left, but I had a sinking feeling he would be back, soon and often. The next move was to get rid of Geoffrey. “Well, Emma,” he said as he smiled, “shall we go down to the bank and finish up the papers, or are you eager to begin looking for a house? I have been going through the advertisements in the paper ...”
“Did Annie not explain that I am not feeling well?” I inquired. I dare say I looked a perfect picture of health. Joy and excitement will brighten the eyes and lend a healthy hue to the cheeks. “I crawled from my bed only to sign the papers. I mean to return there immediately.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“I’m sure you are very busy at the Hall, Geoffrey. Pray do not feel obliged to linger on my account. Annie and I can handle the bank work.”
“But you will want a carriage to go looking for houses.”
“I shall buy one.”
He laughed as if I had suggested buying a warship. “A pair of green ladies will not want to undertake that without a man to help them.”
“We know a few gentlemen. One of them will be happy to assist us.”
“Lord Paton!” he exclaimed. “Yes, by Jove, that is an excellent excuse—
reason,
to call on him. Where does he live, Emma?”
“I would really prefer if you do not call on Lord Paton. Actually it is Annie’s friend who will assist us. Mr. Pepper is an excellent judge of horseflesh.”
“Pepper? Pepper?” He frowned. “I never heard you speak of a Mr. Pepper, Annie. What relation is he to you?”
“A very good friend—from Ireland,” she said vaguely.
“You ladies have certainly scraped up a large circle of friends in a short time. That Miss Bonham seemed a well-bred sort of girl. Very pretty too. Would she be some kin to the Bonhams from Surrey?” Geoffrey inquired.
“She lives with her aunt, Lady DeGrue,” I said, also vaguely.
“Bound to be the same family. Bonham is not at all a common name. Norman blood, I should think. At least it has a Frenchified sound to it. If that’s who she is, she is related to half the nobility of Britain.”
“And a fortune besides,” Annie unwisely added.
“A pity we could not have gone out with her,” Geoffrey said.
“Yes,” Annie said, nodding, “for she will be gypped of her visit to the Pump Room. She will not want to go alone, but perhaps she will go home and ask her aunt to accompany her.”
I, in my innocence, felt nothing but joy when Geoffrey rose to leave. “I shall return tomorrow and see how you go on,” he said. “Meanwhile, I’ll begin looking about for a carriage and team.”
“Please, don’t bother. You will be missed at home, Geoffrey. You really ought to get back to the Hall,” I urged.
“I can spare a week to visit my cousin,” he insisted, and left at once.
A week! As soon as the door closed, Annie turned a knowing face in my direction. “He’s on his way to the Pump Room to dangle after Isabel,” she said.
“She won’t be there. She’ll be at the Crescent Gardens. Better Geoffrey than Lord Ronald, in any case. Lady
DeGrue gave Etherington short shrift. I hope Isabel doesn’t do something foolish.”
It was soon revealed that Mr. Bellows had been broadcasting my good fortune through the house. Mrs. Speers came pounding upstairs. She had just finished work. Her thumb and index finger were black with ink, and her hair was like a haystack, but at least she was sober. “Is it true?” she demanded. “You have come into a fortune, Miss Nisbitt? I wondered when you told me you were leaving yesterday. I told Mr. Bellows it could not be as much as twenty-five thousand, or you would take a house, not rooms in the Westgate Buildings. Twenty-five hundred, was it?”
“I told Mr. Bellows not to say anything!”
She gave me a very sly look. “What is the secret, Miss Nisbitt? A scandal never rests unknown for long in Bath. If you have taken a cher ami, the ton will know all about it in a matter of days—hours. Is it Paton?” she inquired greedily.
“No! How dare you suggest such a thing!”
I did not want her retailing this slanderous idea, and to ingratiate her, I poured a glass of wine while deciding what to tell her. She would have preferred gin, but was no foe to alcohol in any form.
“The money was left to me by a relation,” I said. “Lord Paton has nothing to do with it. The man Mr. Bellows met was a Mr. Nesbitt. I am surprised he did not tell you so.”
“He said he called himself Nisbitt, but then, he would, wouldn’t he, if he was trying to put a decent face on the matter?”
“The matter
is
decent! I have inherited some money. Surely that is nothing new in life.”
She finished her glass and poured herself another. The second glass made her mellow. “It sounds like a novel,” she said dreamily. “Only I shall have Emmeline truly believe the money comes from an uncle, only to discover after she has spent most of it on charity—orphans perhaps—that it comes from the villain, who now has her in thrall.”
Annie hid the bottle, and I assisted Mrs. Speers downstairs in case she should trip and kill herself. “How wretchedly everything is turning out!” I said when I returned. “I had not thought getting hold of a fortune would be so terribly unpleasant.”
“It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t come here under false pretences.” Annie sulked. The enervating events of the day were grinding at her nerves too.
Wine had worked to soothe the savage Mrs. Speers, and Annie and I decided to give it a try. It helped a little, but the good of the first glass was undone by the arrival of a note from Lord Paton. When I read it, I deeply regretted having left the writing of the notes to Annie.
Dear Miss Nesbitt,
I am sorry to hear you are not feeling well. I am not quite clear regarding Miss Potter’s instructions. Do you wish me to put off Mr. Percival re the rooms till you are feeling better, or to inform him you are not interested at all? And if not, why not, if you don’t mind a friend’s vulgar curiosity? You won’t find a better bargain elsewhere. I look forward to hearing from you. Hope you are feeling better tomorrow.
Regards, Paton
“Annie, I told you to tell Paton we did not want the rooms! What did you say?”
“That is exactly what I did tell him. I told him you were ill, and we did not want the rooms. I don’t see how we could have misunderstood.”
There was nothing wrong with Paton’s understanding. In her excitement, Annie had said some such thing as I was ill, and could not see the rooms. I wrote an answer myself, and made it perfectly clear that we did not want the rooms, but were thankful for his efforts on our behalf.
Ingenuity failed me in the matter of an excuse for the death of our interest, and I said only that his vulgar curiosity would be satisfied when next we met. This would not occur until Cousin Geoffrey was bounced back to Milverton, if I had anything to say about it. Having painted him an ogre in my essay, I did not want Paton to meet such an obliging person. Geoffrey, Papa, and the will were the only excuses I had to offer for my unconventional behavior.
We took what pleasure we could from reading the papers left by the solicitor and envisaging a future free of money woes. The money brought so many difficulties with it that I half thought I should return to Milverton with Geoffrey, or perhaps go to London. Receiving a fortune from the death of a relative definitely required mourning. Strict mourning definitely precluded enjoying my wealth. I foresaw a troubled future of explaining my situation to such sly and curious questioners as Lady DeGrue. She would not be put off with half answers. And there was Mrs. Speers, as well as accusing me of being a lightskirt.