As though he himself were the hero, Mr. Pratt puffed up his chest and sat up straighter. “I traced him through army records, having located a cousin of his late mother’s who was able to inform me that the son had joined the army after qualifying as a doctor at EdinburghUniversity. I gather that institution is considered the best place for a man desirous of a medical career to undertake his training.”
All of this extra detail meant nothing to Miranda. She was staring at the blue sky outside the window, certain it had now gone gray with ominous threat. The only thing she could focus on was the fact that Geoffrey’s distant cousin had not handily perished at Waterloo, nor of his wounds afterwards. Yet. And what was more, he was considered a returning hero. A hero who would be coming here to Northamptonshire to claim his inheritance and evict her and her three daughters from their home.
She swallowed down her resentment and turned back to Mr. Pratt. “I suppose this means my daughters and I must prepare ourselves to vacate the Hall and move into the farmhouse which was the only thing my husband saw fit to leave us.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. The fact that he’d left her and the girls only an uninhabited farmhouse on the estate still rankled. For the fact that it had long been uninhabited, and also because it was not to be theirs in perpetuity, but only until she, Miranda, married again. It would then revert to the estate. To this unknown hero. Damn him. And he’d left nothing to provide dowries for the girls. Nothing at all. So how was she ever going to find husbands for them?
If only he’d just given the girls decent dowries and herself a good annuity. But he hadn’t, and all was lost. The girls would never make decent marriages and she would have to scrimp and save to give them even the basics of life. The thought that it might be appropriate to go and stamp on her husband’s grave arose. She gave it only a gentle shove away, reserving that thought for later. Possibly when she was walking past the churchyard.
Mr. Pratt managed a nervous smile. “I imagine it might be a good idea to give the new baronet vacant possession. I have been in contact with him and he’s keen to come and view his new property.”
She managed to hold onto her self-control. Just. “Tell me moreabout the heir. What is his name, for instance? And is he married?”
Mr. Pratt appeared relieved that she hadn’t reacted. “His name is Captain Henry William Madeley. Apart from that, and his impressive war record, I have no further information, my lady. I have no idea whether he is married or not. The fact that he went to his sister’s home to recuperate implies not. And, if not, I assume he will wish to do so shortly and provide himself and the estate with the required male heir.”
This was too much. Did the old stuffed-shirt sound disapproving of the fact that all she’d produced for Geoffrey had been daughters? Miranda grit her teeth and maintained an interested expression.
Had Geoffrey despised her so much that this was what he thought of her? That she deserved nothing but an old empty farmhouse to live in, and even that only until she remarried. Well, she never would. She’d had her fill of being married to a man old enough to be her father, a man who clearly hadn’t valued his daughters at all. To any man, in fact. She’d been duped for years into thinking he cared about them, when he hadn’t. She was going to wash her hands of men entirely.
Mr. Pratt’s chubby jowls wobbled. “Sir Geoffrey made his will, as you know, some time ago, when you had provided him only with Miss Melissa and were expecting another child. He anticipated that you would provide him with the desired male heir, so the will he devised was to facilitate a son of his taking over after his father’s death. He did not foresee that he would die without a son to inherit. He was quite hale and hearty right up until his final moments, I understand. As you know, I am of the opinion that he did not think he would die for some time, or I’m sure he would have made better provision for you and your daughters.”
Now he was making feeble excuses for Geoffrey. How typical of men to stick together, even when one of them was dead.
Miranda regarded him in silence.
He was wrong, of course. Had he known he was about to die, Geoffrey would not have changed his will. She was sure. A solid knot of resentment for him settled in her stomach, replacing the knot of nerves that had been occupying its place for the last three and a half months. Geoffrey, whom she’d thought was fond of her, had left her nothing but an old empty farmhouse. Was that in revenge for not having produced the son he’d so wanted? No, it couldn’t be, because Mr. Pratt said he’d written this will seventeen years ago, when Melissa had been a baby and before Miriam was born.
Had he just not even thought about her? Or the girls? Maybe to be forgotten in that way was worse.
The impulse to burst into tears became monumental, but she hung onto her dignity and bestowed another gentle smile on Mr. Pratt. It wasn’t his fault her husband was a thoughtless, uncaring ogre. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
He cleared his throat again and she almost regretted absolving him from blame. Had he never thought to take a peek at the will in the last seventeen years? Could he not have used his influence to persuade Geoffrey to take better care of his wife and daughters?
“Only that Captain Madeley…I mean Sir Henry Madeley will be arriving by coach the day after tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Miranda swallowed. A stranger was coming who owned her house, her garden, her estate and every stick of furniture in her house. And her horses. The thought that he would own her horses was the worst of all. What would the girls say? They would have to be told so they could make a plan, because there was no way she was going to leave hers or the girls’ horses for anyone.
She stood up to her full five feet and three inches and held her hand out to Mr. Pratt. “Thank you so much for your diligent work in locating my husband’s lost heir. And for your service to my family which I assume is now at an end, as from now on I will not be able to afford to pay your fees.”
He took her hand. His was damp and slightly sticky. “If I can be of service in any way, please do not hesitate to call on me. I am sure we can come to an arrangement about any fees.”
What a liar.
He bowed over her hand and, for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss it. Evidently he changed his mind.
She watched him as he hurried from the room, no doubt most relieved he’d got that nasty interview over and done with.
Now to find the girls.
