“Not at all,” Wynn said. “There is no mystery about it: simply, Laura’s mother was of low birth and weak mind, not fit to live independently. Laura and I were inseparable growing up, but at sixteen she had a love affair. The passion of youth. My father had her removed from the house when the consequences of her error became visible. He took her away, and he told me she was dead.”
Wynn stopped there. Zeb could see his throat working for a moment before he went on. “He told me that cruel lie, and he gave her a small allowance to live on with her daughter so long as she did not contact me. Thus he kept us apart, until just a few weeks before his death. He said she had brought shame to the family, that she and her mother were a stain on our name. Well, let him think that. He died at last, I became master here, and my Laura returned to her home. She is there, look.”
Zeb turned to follow his gesture, and was relieved to see hemeant a painting. It showed the same woman as in the other paintings. She was elegantly dressed and wore a distinctly smug smile.
Wynn gazed at the portrait for a moment, eyes focused on the past, then sighed. “Our reunion was too short. All Walter’s children were to die before fifty, and Laura was no exception to that. She died only a handful of years after her return.”
“What a shame,” Elise said, with glacial insincerity.
“It’s a very sad story,” Zeb added, because he felt rather bad for Wynn, his voice throbbing with feeling while nobody around the table cared. “I’m still not sure about the young lady?”
Wynn nodded. “Laura’s daughter, your cousin Georgina, had come with her, of course, and we put her into what I believed to be an excellent school. But it proved sadly lax. The girls were allowed a great deal too much freedom, and as a consequence, a plausible rogue was able to insinuate himself into her trust.” He glanced at Elise. “I wouldn’t wish to insult a lady by speaking of matters that would defile unsullied ears.”
Someone in the room inhaled, a tiny indrawn breath that was all too audible. Elise wore a smile as bright and sparkling as her diamonds but without their authenticity. “How very kind, dear Wynn,” she said, her voice a musical chime.
“Very kind indeed,” Hawley added. “But you need not mind Elise. I dare say she’ll survive a touch of impropriety.”
Bram’s nostrils flared. Elise’s expression didn’t falter. Wynn said, “Then I shall not scruple. This villain, whose identity I was never able to discover, took ruthless advantage of Georgina, and she bore a child, though she was just a girl herself still. She was…troubled,afterwards, and took her own life. The child she bore is Jessamine.”
“That’s terrible,” Zeb said. “I am most awfully sorry. I had no idea about this.”
“None of us did,” Hawley said. “It seems Wynn kept this offshoot of the family tree entirely secret, even from Bram. That must have come as a shock.”
“To you all, I dare say,” Elise said. “Naturally you would all be distressed at the spawning of illegitimate children.”
Bram’s jaw twitched. Hawley’s mouth hardened to a sneer. Zeb couldn’t help glancing down at Gideon. He was eating his soup with the expression of someone who wasn’t listening and might not have been there at all.
“I kept her secret, yes,” Wynn said, ignoring the byplay. “I kept her safe. My Laura’s daughter had her innocence abused in my care, and I determined that I would not fail Jessamine as I had Georgina. I have had her brought up in the most careful circumstances, protected both from predators and from those who would scorn her birth.”
“You are generous, sir,” Bram said. “It is inevitable that the stain of her origins will attach to her, but I hope all of us will treat her with the pity her unfortunate situation must demand.”
“I am glad you are so thoughtful,” Wynn said. “But I want more for her than pity. Yes, her birth is stained. I intend to remedy that.”
“How?” Zeb asked.
“By marriage, of course. Finding her a husband.”
That gave the table pause. Zeb realised he’d forgotten allabout his soup, and it must be getting cold. He sipped it. It was probably mulligatawny, but regrettably underseasoned.
“Well, that is very thoughtful,” Bram said. “Some decent young fellow who will overlook her origins: an artisan or clerk, perhaps. You intend to give her a sum to marry on, I suppose? Of course, we have discussed the needs of the house—”
“Indeed we have, very often,” Wynn said composedly. “And this brings me to the reason for this gathering. I summoned you all together with the intention of discussing the disposition of my fortune.”
“Indeed,” Bram said. “Yes, indeed.”
“I am unmarried, childless, and Walter Wyckham’s legacy rests heavy on my shoulders. He, of course, was generous to his younger sons in his will.” He glanced between Zeb, whose father had received a tidy sum and stewarded it well, and Hawley, whose father had blown the lot on the horses. “I do not intend to divide my fortune. Lackaday House is not cheap to maintain, and with the world going downhill as it is, its inheritor will need every penny. Bram has persuaded me that I should keep the estate—house and money—intact.”
“I’m quite sure he has,” Hawley said viciously.
“The necessity is clear to any man of moderate acumen,” Bram said. “With the rising cost of living, it is imperative the property should not be fragmented.”
“And that’s up to you, is it? Up to you, and going to you?”
“It is Wynn’s decision. But I am the next of Walter’s grandchildren,” Bram said. “Naturally, I follow Wynn in the line ofsuccession.”
“We’re not monarchs,” Hawley retorted. “Andyoumay believe that inheritance goes by ‘winner takes all’—”
“The winner will take all,” Wynn said. “The estate will be kept in one piece, no matter to whom I bequeath it.”
