Cecilia could see that Bea was allowing her worry over the sheer oddness of what had happened to destroy her pleasure in it. Not, of course, her pleasure in the fact that this mysterious Aunt Augusta was dead; that would be a dreadful thing to feel about anyone, apart possibly from the tyrant Bonaparte. But they should surely be permitted to take some delight in the fact that they, till now sadly impoverished and dependent on family assistance to sustain life, had quite unexpectedly been left money and property.
People could be excused, she thought, for saying things more than once, in their pleasurable shock. Just now, their mama, Leontina, was telling them, again, that she’d had not the slightest notion of this generous lady’s existence. ‘She must have been your father’s great-great-aunt, I suppose – can that be right? – though it seems incredible that she has lived so long. By the time I met him, his parents were both dead. He was in contact with his uncles and aunts and first cousins, but I seem to remember hearing that one of his forefathers had an enormous number of children by several scandalous marriages, and perhaps this lady was one of the younger offspring, and therefore he and his parents never knew her. What is astounding is the fact that she made herself aware of our situation – your sisters’ circumstances, their marriages – and yet never thought to write to us, not even in condolence when your poor father died. This reassurance, or a discreet promise of it, would have been of great help then.’
‘I think the lawyer’s letter is implying that she was highly eccentric. A recluse, even,’ Cecilia said. ‘Do you suppose Albery Hall can be aruin?’ Cecilia, as all her sisters knew, had a deplorable addiction to the Gothic, and would not by any means object to possession of a picturesque tumbledown mansion, about which she might flit, candle in hand, in flowing white muslin or in a dark cloak and hood, depending on the season and the weather. Beatrice, and even Bianca, were of a more practical bent, and would much prefer the chimneys not to smoke and the roof not to leak. Assuming there was a roof.
‘We must ask Mr Cotwin,’ Bea responded. ‘Along with a great many other questions. We should write them down now, so we don’t forget anything.Ishall do so.’
There had been little time yet to discuss matters in any depth, but Cecilia had already been seized by an overpowering curiosity about the house that she and her sisters now owned, and most of all, a strong desire to see it as soon as possible. She was reasonably confident that Bea and Bianca felt the same and, if money was in fact going to be placed in their hands, tomorrow, she was of a mind to pack a trunk, hire a carriage and four horses (because now they were the kind of people who could hire carriages and teams without blinking), and head to Suffolk immediately. They had never been able to afford to travel on a whim, and now, if she understood correctly, everything had changed for the better.
Their mother, she knew, would point out that the Season was in full swing. What of it? She was in no mood for such nonsense, when something far more exciting could be happening instead. Cecilia was two and twenty, Beatrice was fully six and twenty – quite on the shelf, and excessively happy to be there – and Bianca was nineteen. It was Bianca’s second Season. Or it would be, if Mrs Constantine got her way and their lives continued in the dull old pattern. Mrs Constantine, as all six sisters could attest, generallydidget her way.
They had not, as yet, had an argument about this, though they would soon. When Bianca and Cecilia had tried to start one by hinting at how ridiculous it was to consider spending the rest of the spring and summer pointlessly in London when they could be exploring their new house, Mrs Constantine’s face had clouded with instinctive protest. But Bea had said firmly that it was the height of folly to make any plans until they knew exactly how they were situated, and they had all been obliged to concede that this was true. Mr Cotwin had not specified how much money, precisely, they were to inherit, separately or together; he had used the phrasesubstantial assets, which sounded warmly encouraging, but none of them could guess what this actually meant, how these assets might be invested, and whether they were immediately accessible or hedged about with conditions and restrictions that would make their lives complicated in ways they couldn’t yet imagine. Tomorrow, they would find out.
2
‘Five and fortythousandpounds?’ Bianca’s voice had risen to what was practically a shout. It might be sadly unladylike, it might be inappropriate in this hushed legal setting, but it was surely excusable. The Constantines were not wealthy… had not been wealthy. Now, apparently, the sisters were all three of them actual heiresses.
‘Each,’ Mr Cotwin said drily. ‘That’s not a precise figure, of course. Investments may go down as well as up, and of course the times are sadly uncertain, since the Corsican Despot has landed in France and overthrown the peace of the Continent once again. But I would counsel you against making any rash and sudden changes. Selling out of the Funds, and the like. We must have faith in Lord Wellington, and trust that the situation will stabilise in time.’
Mr Cotwin was a spare little man in his late fifties, and his very pince-nez, perched on his beaky nose, exuded respectability, as did his ancient, panelled chamber, and its setting in a quiet cul-de-sac of Lincoln’s Inn. He was surrounded by shelves of ancient leather-bound books, some of which perhaps he’d read, and he had ceremoniously poured them each a glass of sherry, which nobody but him was drinking.
He went on, ‘The late Mrs Albery made a good marriage, around the time of the ’45, though it was not considered so by her family, since trade was looked down upon by persons of genteel birth even more then than it is now. Her husband was a businessman and banker, a Suffolk man, who by his own exertions, and with her constant support, amassed a substantial fortune, and at the end of his working life, having no children to leave his business to, he sold out to one of the larger private banks, for a very fine sum indeed. I can confirm that Thomas Coutts and Company, of whom I am sure you have heard, will be very happy to offer you all banking facilities, and I can arrange for you to call upon them at your earliest convenience.’ A discreet twinkle could be observed in his shrewd grey eyes now. ‘No doubt you will be happy to learn that not quite all of the inheritance is invested in the Funds. There is cash in bank too. And Mrs Albery’s testament authorised me to place some moderate sums in your hands directly, to cover the expenses you will no doubt incur over the next few days. Mourning dress, and so on – your esteemed mother will know best, no doubt. I have coin and paper money ready, once all the formalities are concluded.’
‘How will all this be administered?’ Mrs Constantine did not seem intimidated by the legal gentleman, nor flattered by his deference to her. She wanted hard facts. If he showed her a golden coin, she’d probably grab it and bite it – while he watched in genteel horror – to check that it was real.
Mr Cotwin coughed. ‘Mrs Albery would much have preferred to place the inheritance directly in the young ladies’ control, or at least arrange that this should be the case once they have all come of age. She would not countenance them waiting till they were all five and twenty or married, as might be thought traditional. But she was persuaded to follow the custom of the land and appoint trustees to oversee matters. Myself, my son James – who is a junior partner here – and also by her request the husbands of two of your elder daughters, Mrs Constantine. I am, as it happens, acquainted with Mr Da Costa personally by way of business, and could vouch for him, and the former Miss Allegra Constantine’s husband is of course a public figure of known integrity. Mrs Albery drew up her final testament, you should understand, several years ago, and made no alteration to it afterwards. Naturally, the two gentlemen in question currently remain in ignorance of this proposed arrangement, at Mrs Albery’s insistence, but I can inform them now, and I presume that they will have no objection to undertaking the duty. It is a family matter, after all, and should not be any great trouble to them.’
‘I’m sure my brothers-in-law won’t mind in the least,’ Cecilia told him. ‘In fact, they will be delighted for us, Mr Cotwin. Even if they didn’t care at all for us – which I assure you they do – they must be aware that our new independence should relieve them of any financial responsibility in future. Yes, that seems very sensible, if we must have trustees at all.’
He bowed in stately acknowledgment. ‘There are a great many documents to be signed, and I have details of the house and the estate that will no doubt interest you, but before I do so, I must inform you of the peculiar conditions attached to the bequest.’
‘I knew it,’ Beatrice said with an air of fatalism, much like Cassandra as sinister noises were heard from within the wooden horse that had so rashly been dragged into the city of Troy. ‘Iknewit was too good to be true.’
‘Let’s not say that before we have heard what the conditions are,’ Bianca expostulated. ‘Please tell us directly, sir.’
Mr Cotwin coughed politely once more. ‘The matter may easily be explained; it falls into two separate parts. The first is that you must all be able to swear – you will in fact be required to do so, I must stress, and put your names to an affidavit to the effect – that you have not entered into any betrothal that is currently in force. That is, if any of you have ever been contracted to marry in the past, you no longer are.’
‘Well, that’s easy enough,’ Bea said flatly. ‘I assure you, we haven’t. Any of us. Ever.’
‘And the rest?’ This was Mrs Constantine.
‘That the young ladies will not do so, any of you, within a year of the date of receiving your inheritance. It is not merely that you may not marry; you must also not enter into any engagement to do so, official or unofficial, until a full year has expired from today. I want to be very clear on this, so that there is no misunderstanding in future.’
‘And if we did?’ Cecilia asked. She had no desire to rush into matrimony with anybody, but it was as well to be fully informed when one’s future security was at stake. Her life, all their lives, were about to change in ways they could not yet comprehend.
He spread his hands. ‘The inheritance goes to the others, or other, who remain free and single. The lady who engages herself loses everything. The share of the house, the Funds, the money in the bank. She will not receive so much as a penny more than she has already had, and as trustees, we are charged to bear this possibility in mind if we are asked to issue large sums to any of you individually during this first year. Mrs Albery was quite adamant on the point. She was not against marriage, as such – her own being both happy and provident, if sadly childless – but she had the greatest dislike of gazetted fortune hunters and of hasty matches that the parties might later regret. She wanted, if I may venture to interpret her wishes, to make sure that you ladies all had long enough to taste the pleasures of financial independence, so that you might think twice before you lightly decided to give it up at the request of some gentleman, however charming and persuasive he might be.’
3
‘It is very good news indeed,’ Bianca argued, not for the first time. They were all together in Mrs Constantine’s small sitting room in Great Russell Street, and it was early the next morning. ‘Mama, youmustnow see that there is no point whatsoever in me – or Cecilia or Bea – embroiling ourselves further in the London Season this year. It would be nothing but a waste of time. If anyonewereto want to marry us, we couldn’t accept them or we’d lose our inheritance. A year is a long time. A year is practicallyforever.’
‘Exactly,’ Beatrice put in. It was plain that her spirits had recovered wonderfully, now that she knew that the late Mrs Albery’s stipulation sought merely to prevent her from doing something she had not the least intention of doing anyway. ‘It seems quite likely that word of our windfall will get out – don’t such things always? – and then we will, as Mrs Albery feared, be simply besieged by fortune hunters here in Town. I have had few suitors in my many, many Seasons, and I do not at all look forward to being pursued now by men who would not so much as look at me before. There would be a novelty to it, certainly, but I can’t imagine it would be at all enjoyable. I’m sure you agree, Cecilia, don’t you? You’ve had four full Seasons already too.’
‘I don’t think I could bear it,’ Cecilia replied frankly. ‘Gentlemen whose gaze passed over me last year as though I were a mere piece of furniture – and not a very appealing one at that – suddenly looking at me as though I were the loveliest sight in nature. Gentlemen who flirted briefly with me and then thought better of it coming back with new enthusiasm now I have money! I can’t undertake to behave well under such provocation. And if they start making up to Bianca in particular because she is in her second Season only and might be supposed to be more impressionable by reason of her youth, I don’t know what I might do! You know my deplorably hasty temper, or should by now.’
Bea was frowning in concentration, attempting to formulate her thoughts. ‘The fact is, Mama, that marriage was only ever a means to an end for us. We have always understood that because of our financial circumstances, as Papa was able to leave us so little, we needed to marry well. Sabrina, Viola and Allegra have done so – Viola twice! But now we are happily in possession of fortunes in our own right. We don’t need to marry anybody to gain security. We already have it, and so we can do as we please. And therefore, the Season, with all its trouble, fatigue and expense, is entirely redundant, as far as we are concerned. Of course, ifyouwish to spend your time in that manner, there is no reason why you should not?—’
‘I have it!’ Cecilia exclaimed triumphantly. She was more prone to daydream than the other sisters, and she hadn’t been paying a great deal of attention to Beatrice as she spoke, lost instead in her own new reveries of freedom and independence. ‘Here it is – tell me what you think. “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of a good fortune mustnotbe in want of a husband.” I think that’s rather neat.’
