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“That he wants you to come to America to live with him! Yes—” she hurried on, seeing my expression, “it’s true, the lawyers found him. He had not known that his father was dead, or that you were here with us. I was contacted by the solicitor who is acting for him, and he wishes to meet you, to discuss various arrangements that will have to be made. You will go, will you not, Rowena?” In the face of my stunned silence, her voice became almost desperate. How much she wanted to be rid of me! I had not realized.
“He’s a rich man, Rowena! I cannot imagine it. Guy, who was always such a spendthrift, a man who never cared for money, except to get rid of it as quickly as possible. But Mr. Braithwaite tells me he’s a millionaire, and it will all be yours! You’ll be an heiress! The minute you sign those papers and I give my consent for you to go to him, you’ll have fifty thousand pounds settled on you outright. Do you understand what that means? You’ll be rich—and completely independent, of course. Well, what do you say?”
I had received a shock—and if I managed to keep my face expressionless, I know it must have showed in the unusual brilliance of my eyes. I looked at my mother, who was biting her lip as she tried to search for some answer in my face.
“Well?” she said again, her tone a mixture of impatience and fear.
“I need time to—to think about all this, of course,” I said slowly. “My father—do you not think it strange that he should have waited so long to try and contact me?”
“I wrote to him!” she burst out defiantly. “Well, why not?” she went on, her voice rising slightly. “Do you think I wanted you here? Especially after—after—”
“Why are you so reluctant to say it?” I broke in coldly. “You surely mean that after your husband had raped me, he was weak enough to become infatuated with me. You are afraid you’ll lose him to me completely, are you not? Is that why you’ve decided not to bury your head in the sand any longer, but to get rid of me instead?”
“You are a cold, calculating little hussy, Rowena!” she whispered, and by now I had regained enough composure to give her a scornful smile.
“Certainly, I must take after you in some ways, I suppose. Are we going to indulge in recriminations at this late stage?”
I could see her trying desperately to pull herself together, torn between her desire to pour out all the accumulated resentment and hatred she felt for me, and the need to placate me.
In the end, she said abruptly, “Will you go with me to visit Mr. Braithwaite or not? Once you have spoken to him and he has explained everything to you in detail, I doubt that there will be any need for us to converse further.”
“Quite so. At all costs, let us not become hypocrites.” I turned away from her once more and continued brushing my hair. “If you will send Martine to me, Mother, I should be ready to accompany you in less than an hour.”
The drive to Lincolns Inn Fields, where Mr. Braithwaite maintained his offices, was accomplished in stony silence. And indeed, once we had been politely ushered into the cozy office of the senior partner of the august firm of Braithwaite, Matthews and Braithwaite, my mother quickly informed that gentleman that I was possessed of an intelligent mind and had a will of my own, so that her part in this matter would be merely that of an interested observer.
I shot her a somewhat sardonic glance, but she had settled back in her chair with her hands primly folded in her lap, and would not meet my eyes.
“Well, Lady Rowena.” Mr. Braithwaite said briskly from behind his paper-cluttered desk, and I looked up to meet his blue, twinkling gaze, which was remarkably shrewd in spite of his advanced years. He surprised me by saying suddenly, “You look like your father, y’know! Hmm—too bad things turned out the way they did. Guy—but you’re not here to listen to an old man reminisce, are you? Shall we get down to business right away, then, or would you ladies like a cup of tea first?”
Both my mother and I declined the offer of tea, and, nodding his head in a satisfied manner, Mr. Braithwaite made a small pyramid of his fingers, gazing over their tips at me like a benevolent gnome.
“Very well, business it shall be, then. You’ll stop me at any time you do not understand something I am saying, or need clarification of any point, Lady Rowena?”
I nodded, and he inclined his head to me, in a courtly fashion.
“Good!” he exclaimed, and then picking up a sheaf of papers that lay in front of him, his voice became businesslike as he began to read to me—first a lengthy letter of instructions from my father, and then a copy of his will, listing all his assets.
To say I was slightly stunned at the end of Mr. Braithwaite’s recital would be an understatement. I had made some study of the law, among other things, mainly because I knew Latin and wanted to practice it as much as possible, but my father’s will and his instructions were simply, yet concisely, drawn up, leaving no loopholes.
“Whoever Guy’s attorney in Boston is—this Judge Fleming—he’s a good man. Makes everything clear, does he not? Do you have any questions now, Lady Rowena?”
I was amazed, even slightly dazed, by the sudden change in my fortunes, and my somewhat ambiguous status. Because I was used to thinking before I spoke, I was silent for a few moments after Mr. Braithwaite had spoken, and he repeated his question, giving me an understanding smile.
“It’s something of a shock, eh? Not surprising. I understand you believed your father to have dropped completely out of sight, or to have forgotten your existence? Well, the letter explains it all, of course. Your grandfather”—he sighed—“well, in his way he was a hard man. Unforgiving. You understand everything now, do you not? Guy Dangerfield—the Earl of Melchester, I should say—is a sick man. No, let us be frank, he’s a dying man, and he knows it. That is why there is a reason for haste. He wishes very much to see you before he dies. I don’t wish to press you, of course, for I realize what a shock this must all be to you, but—” I heard my mother’s sharply indrawn breath and knew she was watching me, her eagerness to hear my answer almost a palpable thing.
But I already knew what my answer would be. I had known it when I agreed to come here—even before I discovered the extent of my suddenly acquired fortune. I was free! Amazingly, unexpectedly, I had been set free, granted independence. From now on I need belong to no one, answer to no one but myself.
I leaned forward and heard my own voice say in level, perfectly composed tones, “But of course I agree, Mr. Braithwaite. To all the conditions outlined in the will and my father’s letter, as well as to the need for haste. I shall be ready to leave England as soon as you can make the arrangements.”
“We will not say anything of this to Edgar,” my mother said flatly when we were in the
carriage again. She had signed all the necessary papers relinquishing her guardianship of me, and now she met my eyes coldly, as if she had already said her good-byes to me. “Mr. Braithwaite said it would take about a week. It was fortunate that he had the forethought to reserve a passage for you on that American ship, just in case you agreed to go. There’s no need for—for any unpleasantness before you leave. Best to do it this way.”
I shrugged wearily, still occupied with my thoughts. “As you please,” I said indifferently. “I shall leave it to your ingenuity to get Sir Edgar out of the way on the day I’m supposed to depart. And you’ll have a week to think of some explanation to give him.”
“That will be my affair,” she said harshly, and we conversed no more for the rest of the journey back.
I had much to think about. Not only was I to start off upon a journey that would take me to a whole new life, but I had a father at last, and he actually wanted me! I remembered Nanny’s words—“He fair doted upon you, he did”—and found myself wondering, for the first time, how my father had got on after his return to America. Forced to leave England under a cloud, leaving both wife and daughter behind, denied all communication with me afterwards—it had been fair to neither of us, but of course, my grandfather had believed he was doing what was best for me.
