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The Heiresses Page 24


  … I wondered if this might come to pass and I’m delighted to see that it has. After two of you approached me independently for money, I made a little wager with myself about the third, believing it would only be a matter of time before the remaining sister also came begging at my door. Now that I know your true natures and the extent of your foolishness, I have decided to make you a new offer that differs from my initial one of a third of the money that was originally discussed, to be shared between the three of you as you saw fit. I have decided, instead, to offer you nothing at all.

  Mistresses and Mayhem

  “So, that’s that, then,” Thalia said as she slowly and methodically tore up her half brother’s letter into small pieces, scattering them about her feet on the floor.

  Ro’s gaze moved from Thalia’s to Clio’s. Surely this couldn’t be all she had to say on learning both her sisters had visited Charles of their own accord to ask for at least part of their inheritance. The inheritance that should rightfully be theirs and not his, and the one it felt as if they would be fighting over forever—clashing with both Charles and each other. Didn’t Thalia want an explanation from each of them? To fly into a rage?

  Clio stood up from her seat. “Well, I’m not ashamed to admit that I went to Charles. I asked him for money. For my mother’s health.”

  Thalia gave her a shrewd look. “Oh? You’re not ashamed to say it now? After someone else has divulged the information?”

  Clio blushed. “And what about you? Do you have an excuse?”

  Thalia paused for a moment. “I visited Charles just yesterday afternoon. I was running out of money and my previous donor didn’t care to give me any more.”

  “That’s not true,” Clio blurted out, after Thalia’s admission. “I think you visited him before that. When I saw him, which was some time ago, he made some comments. Cryptic comments, which only make sense now that I know someone was there before me. He seemed to think we had left the city. That’s where you got the money from, isn’t it? For the car and the clothes and so on? From Charles. There was no other relative, admirer, or donor, or anyone else.”

  “But why would Charles give Thalia anything?” Ro looked at Clio, not understanding.

  Clio knew exactly why, now that she recalled Charles’s comments. “Because she told him we were leaving the city. He seemed confused that we hadn’t left when I showed up.”

  Slowly, Ro stood up also. “Thalia, is that true?”

  Thalia simply sighed.

  “So it is true!” Ro said, shocked. She took a step forward. “But how did you—”

  “It wasn’t much,” Thalia said, interrupting her. “I told him we were moving to the country for a short while. To see how we liked it.”

  “I can’t believe you—” Ro continued.

  But Clio cut her off with a gasp. “Ro! Your arm!”

  Which was when Ro looked down to see the blood seeping through her blouse.

  * * *

  “Here, sit down and use this.” Clio passed Ro a clean handkerchief and led her to the sofa, where she rolled up Ro’s sleeve to reveal three long scratch marks, one of them particularly vicious.

  “I must have bumped it, making it bleed again,” Ro said, as Thalia also came over to inspect her wounds.

  “What happened to you?” Clio frowned.

  “It was after I saw Charles last night.” Ro paused and decided to bend the truth a little to save herself the embarrassment. “I went to see Charles to ask him for money to attend the university. You see, my Uncle Henry has lost all his money in an investment scheme. That was what he came to speak to me about that day. Of course, Charles didn’t give me any money. It was as I was leaving when this … woman set upon me. She was mad. Completely insane. Hissing and scratching, wanting to know why I had business with Charles.”

  Clio gasped once more. “Wait. Was she tall? And thin?”

  Ro nodded quickly. “Yes, she was.”

  “And dressed in dark clothing?” Thalia added.

  “Yes!” Ro was surprised. “So we have all seen her then?” She turned to Clio for an answer first.

  “She approached me when I visited Charles as well,” Clio said. “Though she didn’t attack me as such. Still, there was something not quite right about her, I could tell. So I ran away.”

  Thalia spoke up. “I didn’t actually speak to her, but I think I might have seen her leave from Charles’s town house. There was some kind of altercation between them when I was in his study. He didn’t want me to see her, that much is for sure, and he wouldn’t tell me who she was. He called her another ‘vulture.’ I thought she must have been there asking him for money.”

  “Who do you think she is?” Clio glanced at her sisters, eyes wide.

  “I don’t know,” Ro answered as she shook her head, “but she’s obviously important. Maybe the mistress?”

  “Why the mistress?” Thalia replied. “Why would Charles give her money?”

  Ro was already deep in thought, her brow creased. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Maybe it wasn’t her at all. Oh, I don’t know … it was just a thought.”

  Silence enveloped the room.

  “What do we do now?” Clio went over to sit down again in one of the drawing room armchairs. “Now that Charles…” She tapered off, obviously realizing the enormity of Charles’s letter.

  Clio looked pale and frightened, Ro thought. She was obviously worried about her mother. Ro knew she had been hopeful of using any sort of payment from Charles to secure her mother a better future where her health was concerned. “We must continue on,” Ro spoke up. “And find out the truth. It’s the only way. Charles won’t give us anything now. Not after what you’ve done, Thalia.”

  Thalia didn’t grace this with a response.

  “Why can’t you see that the truth is all we have, Thalia? Especially now?” Ro took the handkerchief off from her arm since the bleeding had stopped.

  “Why can’t you see that you might be wrong?” Thalia replied coolly. “Not everything in this world has a logical explanation, Erato, however hard you search for it.”

  “But—” Ro started.

  “Oh, I can’t bear it. I’m going out,” Thalia said to halt her.

  Ro continued on, regardless. “But we don’t have any sort of plan and…”

  “Here’s my plan,” Thalia told her. “As I said, I’m going out. I’m going to have a good time. While I can.”

  “Is that all you care about?” Clio piped up.

  “Frankly, yes.” Thalia threw her a look. “For who knows what tomorrow will bring?” She started across the room.

  “And when will you be back?” Ro asked her.

  “I have no idea.” Thalia didn’t turn around. “When you find out ‘the truth,’ though, do let me know.”

  Ro persisted. “And what about tomorrow night and the following day?”

  Thalia did turn back now to give her sister a quizzical look. “I suppose I’ll have a good time then, too.”

  “I’m talking about our birthdays,” Ro said with a sigh. “Our eighteenth birthdays. Are we not going to celebrate at all?”

  “Oh!” Thalia finally understood. “I assumed you’d want to see your eighteenth birthday in with a good book. But if you’re keen for some excitement, why don’t you both meet me out, tomorrow night. How about the Curlicue Club?”

  * * *

  “I don’t think Thalia’s coming.” Ro raised her voice to speak over the frenetic music inside the Curlicue Club, which seemed to be getting louder and more furious as the popular venue continued to fill. She and Clio were seated at one of the club’s supper tables that lined the dance floor. But when she glanced at Clio, to see if she had an opinion concerning Thalia’s tardiness, Clio was staring upward, mesmerized by the kaleidoscopic light on the ceiling, which rained down upon the room in a haze of flattering purple, blue, and green ever-twisting concentric circles of light. Ro sighed, returning to her own thoughts, which were a pile of rather miserable ones
to have when you were supposedly celebrating on the eve of your eighteenth birthday.

  Ro had spent the entire day locating any last scraps of information she could. For a start, she had tracked down and telephoned the midwife’s niece, who had been a maid at the time of the girls’ birth. It was, however, a very brief conversation. She could tell Ro nothing that her aunt had not already revealed. At any rate, the maid had not seen their births. There was no one but Mrs. Thompson who could attest that the three of them were born alive and healthy and sent off to distant relatives in the country.

  All that was left was Dr. Hollingsworth’s strange comment about the mistress. In a last-ditch effort, Ro had begged Thalia to return home in the afternoon for an hour or two and had dragged her reluctant sister along to the home for retired professional gentlemen. Luckily, Dr. Hollingsworth had been seated in the garden at the time. Ro had been able to point him out and Thalia then approached him. It did not take long, however, before she was spotted by the matron, who came storming over and threatened to call the police, saying that she knew Thalia was no relation of Dr. Hollingsworth’s. Thalia and Ro had to bolt from the premises. Of course, Thalia had thought this was all terribly amusing. “That’s the most fun I’ve had in the daylight for some time!” she informed Ro, when they’d let themselves back into 32 Belgrave Square and had stopped panting from the exertion of running all the way back to the town house.

  Now, Ro felt aimless. Her friends were finishing up their time at boarding school and soon Harriet would be heading off on her lovely holiday with her family. Ro knew she could ask Hestia for money to attend the university, but she didn’t want to—Hestia was so keen that they all spend time “together.” Little did Hestia know that her three nieces could not have been less “together” now that their quest to gain their inheritance seemed to have been brought to an abrupt halt. Perhaps next year, or the year after, she might ask Hestia if it would be possible to attend the university? Surely her aunt would be in favor of a woman studying medicine …

  Clio reached across the supper table now and tapped Ro on the hand. “Weren’t they funny?” she asked, a smile flashing across her face. Ro became aware that she had been watching two men perform on the dance floor—a comedy act involving much falling down and tripping over things—without taking in what they were doing at all.

  “Very amusing,” she said as she nodded, agreeing with Clio. It was nice to see her enjoying the evening.

  Clio frowned slightly. “Is Vincent coming this evening?” she asked.

  Ro tried not to give her true feelings away. “No,” she said evenly, over the band, which had just started up again. Now a lone woman took the floor and performed an acrobatic routine, full of back bends, flying leaps, and other maneuvers. It made Ro feel dizzy just to watch her, though that might have been the fact that she was now drinking what must be her third glass of champagne and felt decidedly lightheaded. Clio’s comment had, of course, added salt to the wound. No, Vincent would not be coming this evening, because Vincent had been terribly “busy” lately. Too busy to see Ro, anyway. She had no evidence of the fact, but she liked to torture herself with the thought that he was “busy” with Genevieve.

  “What have I missed?” Someone slid into the chair beside Ro, making her jump.

  “Thalia!” Ro exclaimed, surprised. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to. But then I thought, it is our collective birthday and I was passing by and I did desperately need a drink and thought you might buy me one. Oh, goodness. Not her again. She is dull, isn’t she?” Thalia glanced at the back-bending woman, who now held a leg over her head while hopping around in a circle. “I’ve seen more entertaining, and better-groomed, monkeys.”

  “Well, I think she’s fabulous!” Clio watched on, eyes wide.

  “Yes, but you would, darling. All there is for entertainment out in the country is putting criminals in stocks, or hanging them from gibbets and so on.”

  Clio sighed and turned back to the dance floor, saying nothing.

  “Yes, well, happy birthday to us,” Ro said dourly, raising her glass to no one in particular.

  “Oh, lovely. I don’t mind if I do.” Thalia signaled to their waiter for another glass, which was produced in a flash.

  “Why have you still got your coat on?” Ro eyed her sister suspiciously as Thalia had the waiter fill her glass to the very brim. “Are you leaving right away?”

  “Not quite yet. But it’s freezing in here.” Thalia took a large, unladylike gulp of her champagne.

  “No, it’s not. And you’re sweating.” Ro peered closer now. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

  “No, no. I’m fine.” Thalia waved her concerns away. “Do stop fussing.”

  Clio had turned in her seat now to see what all the chatter was about. It was as Thalia took another mouthful of champagne and her sleeve dropped back slightly, that she gasped. “Thalia! What happened to you?” Not asking permission, Clio reached over and took the glass from her hand, pushing back Thalia’s sleeve. “Did that woman attack you as well? The one who attacked Ro the other night?”

  “It’s nothing.” Thalia snatched her arm away. “Just a little bruise! I’m terribly clumsy, you know. Always have been.”

  But it wasn’t just a little bruise. It was quite a large one that ran up the length of her arm.

  “Who did this to you?” Clio stared at her in horror.

  Thalia sniffed, pulled her coat tighter around her, and then shivered again, in a seemingly involuntary movement. “Who do you think, darling? It’s just like I said—myself. So very clumsy. It’s a curse, really.” She moved her attention to the stage, where two women had begun singing a duet. “How tedious! As are all the clubs these days. What is this rubbish?” She shook her head, drawing her coat around her further still.

  “Thalia, you’re not well,” Ro told her. “You should go home. Now that I think about it, you haven’t looked at all well lately. In fact, you’ve looked rather drawn for weeks now. And you’ve lost weight.”

  “I said I’m perfectly fine,” Thalia snapped at her sister, then reached for her beaded emerald purse, fumbling around in it for a moment or two. Not being able to immediately find what she was looking for, she began to place items upon the table—lipstick, a handkerchief, a small tin. “Aha, here it is!” she said, finally locating her cigarette case. She flicked it open. “Ugh, empty.”

  “What a dear little tin,” Clio said, inspecting the small box Thalia had placed upon the table, which was decorated with two sweet little lovebirds. “What’s inside?”

  Thalia raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to know?” She slipped the tin over toward Clio, who hesitated for a moment at the unexpected invitation, before taking it and opening it.

  Ro watched as Clio’s face visibly blanched. She quickly shut the tin and pushed it away from her. “What is it?” Ro asked. “Clio? What’s in there?”

  But Clio only turned her back toward the pair to face the stage, where the two women continued to sing. Ro did not wait for her invitation, but reached over and grabbed the offending item. While Thalia continued to make short work of her champagne, she inspected the contents. She had to admit, she was almost as shocked as Clio had looked when she read the words on the small glass bottle within. Quickly, she shut the tin once more, hiding the glass bottle and syringe. “Thalia,” she hissed under her breath, “morphine is illegal.”

  Thalia didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. “So’s alcohol in America, but everyone here seems to be behaving perfectly respectably. Don’t be such a bore, darling. After all, you enjoyed your little experience with cocaine at the castle very much, didn’t you? And it’s only on special occasions.”

  “Yes, but every night seems to be a special occasion where you’re concerned. Now, put it away, before we’re all arrested.”

  “Oh, all right.” Thalia slipped the tin back into her purse, on her lap. “I must run to the loo, though. I’ll be back in
a minute.”

  “Perhaps you should leave your purse here.” Ro held her hand out to take it.

  Thalia hesitated for just a second. “Unbelievable!” she said, slapping it into Ro’s palm before stalking off.

  It was only when Thalia was out of sight that Ro thought about this exchange a little harder. Picking up the purse from the table once more, she twisted open the clasp.

  The little tin was nowhere to be seen.

  * * *

  On the early-morning taxi ride back to Belgrave Square, both Ro and Clio had settled into their seats and been rather quiet for two girls who were eighteen today. It wasn’t until the motorcar swung into Grosvenor Crescent and they were almost home that Clio turned her head of black curls, resting upon the seat back, to look at Ro. “Do you think we should tell Hestia? About Thalia, I mean?”

  Ro had, of course, been wondering the same thing at various points throughout the evening. “I don’t know,” she said, turning her own head. “Maybe not just yet.” She sighed. How like Thalia to make their birthday all about her. She hadn’t even stayed at the club that long—just enough to drink almost a full bottle of champagne and to dance with several gentlemen who asked. Ro herself had been asked twice, but Clio had been asked many times—something that Thalia seemed to take almost as a personal insult.

  Watching her sisters on the dance floor, Ro had wondered what it was about herself that put men off. Was it what she talked about? It must be, at least partly, because she did always receive a lot of “What?” comments from men, whenever she deigned to open her mouth in the hope of talking about something that didn’t involve the weather. That was what she loved most about Vincent. That she could, simply, talk to him. As an equal. It was altogether thrilling. Also, she knew that whatever she said, he wouldn’t reply with something ridiculous, like “You do have a lot of opinions, don’t you?” or “What on earth are they teaching girls these days?” But there was something else, too. Ro knew it had to be something in her demeanor, because she had been approached so few times this evening compared to Thalia and Clio. Thalia, of course, even with her beauty, worked hard to attract men, but Clio had to do nothing at all. She was beautiful, with her huge dark eyes and glossy black curls, but Ro knew it wasn’t just that. Everyone saw something in her, and Ro couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. It was something about how Clio held herself and how she moved—gently, serenely and with no fuss or bother whatsoever. You could see she was kind and content and easy to love just by looking at her. Ro doubted Vincent had ever seen any of these qualities in herself at all. Grasping, rash, and determined, maybe. Kind, content, and easy to love, no.