The Heiresses Page 5

  Just the thought of it made her knees tremble slightly.

  * * *

  The woman clasped Uncle Henry’s hand firmly as Ro hovered beside him, surrounded by the lush, gilded surroundings of the Savoy Hotel. “Thank you so much for bringing Erato. If you could meet us here at three o’clock?”

  “Well, Lady Hestia, I-I…” Uncle Henry stammered.

  “I wouldn’t presume you would want to have tea with us. How awfully dull for you!”

  “Well, no, I suppose…” He glanced at Ro. “It’s just that there was that shooting here not so very long ago, Ro.”

  Ro laughed nervously. “That was two years ago, Uncle Henry! I promise I won’t shoot any Egyptian princes.” She could barely stop her eyes from darting around the room. Siblings! Two of them! Ro was still having a great deal of trouble even taking the word in, and now, here she was, about to meet the other two that would make up their threesome. Where were they? And would she find that she had two sisters, two brothers, or one of each sex?

  “Well, in that case…” He glanced at his watch. “I suppose no harm can come of it. Three o’clock, you say?” he asked, nodding at Hestia.

  “Yes, three o’clock.”

  Hestia waited until Uncle Henry was almost out of sight before turning to her niece. When she did, there were already tears in her eyes. “Oh, Ro. Or should I call you Erato? No, it must be Ro. For that is what my sweet D would have called you, I know it, just as your uncle does. I have waited for this day for so long. Forever, it feels like.” She reached for her niece and drew her closer toward her. “Let me look at you. Oh, you are so like her. So like her I can hardly believe my eyes!”

  Ro began to become vaguely aware that several parties were watching them. Hestia spoke rather loudly and her appearance was … striking, to say the least. With her shorter-than-usual blond bob, bright red lipstick, and dark eye makeup, she was certainly not a person your eye skipped over readily. She wore an outfit that had been matched with precision: smart black heels with fetching crisscrossed straps and white buttons, a floaty sort of dress with a white skirt that flashed black inner pleats when she moved (sadly, Ro found she was not good at describing these sorts of things, having worn a woolen school uniform most of her life), a string of creamy white pearls that you just knew instinctively were of the very best quality, and a beautiful rectangular clutch with a sun-ray pattern in black and white on one side, plain black on the other. Ro was sure her hat and coat were equally wonderful. Honestly, she did not know what to say to this fabulous creature of an aunt and when she opened her mouth to begin, she soon found herself shutting it again, no words having exited. She was convinced that, whatever she said, she would most likely bore her aunt to death, so it was best to say nothing at all.

  “Look at us.” Hestia shook her head in disbelief. “We could be mother and daughter.”

  Ro had to agree—it was true, the likeness was rather astonishing. And this was another part of the reason why Ro was finding it altogether difficult to speak. She had never had anyone to liken herself to before. Now, as she inspected her aunt’s face carefully, she was reminded of something else. At first, it was only a feeling that she had seen her aunt somewhere before. Somewhere … odd. But after another few moments it came to her. “That’s it! You’re The Watcher!” she gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, shocked she had let the words escape.

  Hestia looked confused. “The Watcher? I’ve been called many things in my time, but never The Watcher! What on earth does it mean?”

  “Outside the school gates. And on the edge of the hockey field. That’s where I’ve seen you before. At school! I saw you several times. All the girls did. They had so many theories, too. That you were a man dressed as a woman, that you were a sister who was disgraced, that you were selling girls into slavery. But then … well, nothing. You disappeared.”

  “Ah, that. Yes,” Hestia said. “I have been checking up on you over the years. But I’m afraid the school wasn’t so happy about it in your case, so I had to stop. And it took me an age to locate Clio…”

  “Clio?”

  “Your sister Clio. The third triplet. But what an exciting name! The Watcher! I love it!”

  Ro frowned, her thoughts finally catching up with her aunt’s voice. “Wait,” she said, whipping around and placing her hand on Hestia’s arm. “What did you just say? About triplets?”

  Hestia looked puzzled, pulling back slightly to inspect Ro’s face. “Why, didn’t your uncle tell you?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ro began, slowly starting to realize why Uncle Henry had seemed quite pleased to beat a hasty retreat. “Tell me what? He told me I had two siblings. In an awfully roundabout way…”

  “How odd that he didn’t tell you!” Hestia replied, looking quite shocked. “Yes, you do have two siblings. Both sisters—Thalia and Clio. You are triplets. Thalia is the oldest, Clio is the youngest, and you are in the middle.”

  If Ro had felt faint at the prospect of siblings before, now she felt positively delirious. “I’m a triplet?”

  “Well, yes! You most certainly are! Oh, and look! Oh, my. Here she is. It’s Thalia. The eldest. Just look at those eyes. Exactly the same shade as yours. Both your parents had blue eyes, you know…”

  Still trying to accept the fact that she had a sister called Clio, another sister called Thalia, and that she was a triplet—a triplet, of all things!—Ro turned to follow Hestia’s line of sight, where she saw something truly miraculous. For a moment, it felt like she was staring into a very flattering mirror, but then she began to take in the differences: the bob, the lipstick, the clothes that somehow didn’t really fit with the bob and lipstick for some reason. It was as if everything had been cobbled together, borrowed from different people. Beside the girl walked a young man who, to Ro’s eyes, looked entirely different. He was very smartly outfitted and, because of this, the pair didn’t quite match up. As Ro wondered about their connection, the man went to take the girl’s arm. When he touched her, she physically recoiled and gave him a quick look, her jaw hard. It was obvious they had been arguing just moments before.

  Hestia greeted the pair and Ro vaguely realized her aunt immediately pulled the same trick on the man that she had pulled on Uncle Henry—dismissing him in a way that showed very plainly he was not invited to tea. As she did this, Ro only had eyes for her sister. They were so alike and yet so different. It was obvious to Ro from the outset that there were many differences, even though their features were similar. Thalia walked differently—faster, in a more jaunty fashion. And there was something about her eyes—they were quick eyes that missed nothing, darting about the room, taking everything in, missing nothing. Ro was more the type of person who would see all the same things, but would take her time about it, drinking in her surroundings.

  “Ro?” It took Ro a moment before she realized Hestia was speaking to her and the man had now gone. “This is your sister Thalia. Thalia, this is your sister Erato. Ro.”

  Ro couldn’t help herself. However rude it might be, she continued to stare, then reached out and touched the girl on the arm. “You are real,” she said quietly. “It was just … I was wondering if this was some kind of odd dream.”

  “Perhaps it is,” Thalia said, quite calmly. “Though I’ve never had a dream before where I’ve been told I’m a triplet and it has turned out only a few minutes later to be true.” She shot a look at her brother’s retreating back.

  “This is no dream,” Hestia responded. “I have waited too long for this day to have it turn out to be only a dream. Now, let us go and meet your third sister, Clio. She’s waiting for us in the Grand Foyer.”

  * * *

  Thalia did everything in her power to look calm and collected and as if James had not minutes ago told her that she was about to meet her two sisters and that she was a triplet. At first, she had thought he was playing another of his famously cruel tricks. As it turned out, he was doing nothing of the sort. Uncle Clarence had simply forgotten to rel
ay this rather important piece of information over the course of the last seventeen years of her life. As the three walked, she took a deep breath and tried to look for all the world as if everything was fine. As if she was in complete control of this situation and that she met with new sisters she had never heard of every day of the week. “I can’t believe my luck. Related to Hestia Craven! You know, I’ve followed your movements closely, ever since you began in the WSPU,” Thalia told her aunt as the two girls continued to match Hestia’s strides across the thick, rust-colored carpet of the Grand Foyer. As they progressed, Thalia was well aware of the lingering stares of the young men in the room as she passed them by, cooped up in suffering afternoon teas with their mothers and sisters.

  “Really?” Hestia shot her niece an appreciative look. “You know of the WSPU?”

  Ro seemed impressed. “How is that? I hadn’t heard of the WSPU until this morning.”

  Thalia shrugged slightly, tearing her eyes from one particularly fine young man sitting with what looked like a very old, very boring, very rich aunt. “Oh, I’ve read The Times cover to cover every day since I was six years old. It’s not as if there was anything else to do at Lintern Park. I wasn’t allowed to go to school. It was the only way I got a glimpse of the outside world.”

  In front of a table, where a young, dark, curly-haired girl sat, slightly hunched in her seat, Hestia stopped abruptly. “Thalia, Ro, this is your little sister Clio.”

  In front of them, Clio stood up awkwardly, almost tipping over the small table. “Oh, dear,” she said. “How careless of me. I … don’t know what to say. What do you say when you meet your sisters for the first time?”

  “What about ‘How do you do?’” Thalia suggested, suddenly not feeling so terrible about her own hat as she took in Clio’s outfit.

  “I suppose it’s usually some form of baby talk. Most sisters aren’t seventeen years old when they meet for the first time.” Ro took her question quite literally.

  Hestia gestured for the girls to sit down. “I’ve ordered tea and cakes.” As she arranged herself in her chair, she laughed. “Perhaps introductions aren’t necessary. You have, of course, met before.”

  “We have?” all three girls asked at once, looking at each other.

  “When?” Thalia spoke again.

  “Oh, I see,” Ro piped up. “You mean at birth.”

  “That is exactly what I mean. Now, as all three of you did not even know that you were triplets—which I am quite shocked about, I must admit—I am going to assume you know nothing at all regarding this entire mess and I will start from the beginning.” And then, with this, over the next half hour or so, Hestia told the three girls the story of their births. How their mother had died giving birth to them, how their father had never wanted to see them again, and had shipped them off to various relatives who had a vested interest in keeping quiet about the situation. “It took me a while to locate all three of you. Particularly Clio, for a number of reasons. But, as Ro pointed out before, she has seen me in the past. Watching.” Hestia smiled again at this.

  “I’ve seen you, too. Or at least I’ve seen your motorcar in our village,” Clio said, nodding.

  Hestia looked over at Thalia’s confused face. “I have been watching you as well, Thalia, although I have to admit your Uncle Clarence has been problematic. I was worried once that I would end up with a derriere full of buckshot.”

  Thalia thought of Uncle Clarence. “It has happened before.”

  “I only wish I could have found you all sooner. I missed out on so many years. You see, when your mother died, your father wanted me out of the way. He saw to it that I was … indisposed for some time. Oh, I might as well say it as you’ll find out soon enough. Almost anyone here at the Savoy would be able to tell you—I was institutionalized. He made my parents believe it needed to be that way. And then, when I was finally allowed home, he made sure that I knew I could be returned to that institution at any time if he so wished it.”

  “Institutionalized!” Thalia exclaimed. “Whatever for?” She knew it was rude to quiz her aunt, but they were here for the truth, were they not?

  “Oh, for many reasons.” Hestia shook her head, avoiding the question. “We can talk about that some other day.”

  “So it is really true that our mother is dead?” Clio asked.

  Hestia paused for a moment before speaking. “Yes. I am afraid so. I was there the day she died. The day of your birth. I saw it with my own eyes. Oh, Demeter and I had so many plans, including a brilliant doctor lined up, one who used extremely progressive methods. One who could have, perhaps, saved her life. However, it was not to be. He was dismissed by William, and Demeter had to rely upon a doctor who should never have been allowed to practice medicine at all. Just before she died, she named you: Thalia, Erato, and Clio Craven-Towneley. Her last act on this earth. Do you have the tokens I asked you to bring today?” Her eyes lit up, remembering she had asked them to do so.

  It took only seconds for all three girls to produce the three embroidered hearts. As they laid them on the small table in front of them, all three gasped. They were exactly the same—obviously made by the same hand.

  “I believe there is a small slit, in the side of each heart,” Hestia continued. “Originally there was a small paper scroll protruding from it, though it may now have been pushed inside.…”

  Thalia, Ro, and Clio all picked up their hearts once more and located the cavity inside. All three pulled out a small piece of paper. And all three opened the piece of paper and read it out at the same time.

  “My name is Thalia. This name was given to me by my mother, who loved me dearly. Please use it in her memory.”

  “My name is Erato. This name was given to me by my mother, who loved me dearly. Please use it in her memory.”

  “My name is Clio. This name was given to me by my mother, who loved me dearly. Please use it in her memory.”

  “Did you make these?” Ro glanced up first to ask her aunt.

  Hestia simply shook her head. “No. A very clever and kind woman did so.”

  “Thalia, Erato, and Clio,” Ro said quietly. “Comedy”—she nodded at Thalia—“and history.” She turned to Clio, nodding at her as well.

  “And you?” Clio asked.

  Ro blushed. “Erotic poetry.”

  “Lucky you.” Thalia raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  Ro avoided Thalia’s gaze. “Hestia pertains to the hearth and Demeter the harvest and fertility.”

  “Also life, death, and marriage. I sometimes wonder if our father had foresight.” Hestia shook her head forlornly. “Demeter’s dearest wish was that I look after you. And that is what I am here to do now that your father is no longer with us, causing his endless trouble. Still, I have something to be thankful for—it was William who made me discover my voice as a woman in the modern world.”

  Thalia interrupted. “Our mother was Demeter Craven, before marriage. I have heard of the Cravens, of course, in the newspaper, because of your campaigning to take your seat in the House of Lords. But you mentioned our father’s name briefly—Towneley. I know it as well, but I can’t quite remember why.…”

  “Your father was William Towneley,” Hestia answered with a brief cough. “Later William Craven-Towneley. He was a viscount, as was my father, your grandfather.”

  “Really? Our father was a viscount? So, we have a title!” Thalia sat up in her seat.

  “Yes, you do.” Hestia’s voice had a warning note to it.

  “Which makes us Honourables?” Ro asked.

  Hestia responded with a curt nod.

  “I don’t understand.” Clio’s eyes darted from one sister to the other.

  “Truly?” Thalia turned to her, eyes wide. How could she not?

  “Don’t speak to her like that!” Ro said, looking shocked at Thalia’s rudeness.

  Hestia simply laughed. “Squabbling already! A good sign. You are true sisters!”

  “I’m sorry.” Clio looked miserable. It
was obvious to all that she was having difficulty keeping up with the conversation.

  “There is no need to be sorry, Clio.” Hestia glanced over at her third niece warmly. “Your father was a viscount, which makes you the Honourable Clio Craven-Towneley. However, I’m afraid it is a title that would be rather unwise to use at this point.”

  “Clio Silsby.” Clio’s reply came back quickly. “My name is Clio Silsby.”

  “It’s not much of a title,” Thalia kept on, ignoring her sister. “I mean, you only write it on envelopes and such, it’s not spoken aloud, but still … a title! I’ve never had one of those before.” Her attention turned to her aunt again. “And what of the new viscount?”

  Hestia sighed. “His name is Charles Towneley.”

  “We have a brother as well?” Ro asked.

  “No,” Hestia said quickly. “Charles Towneley is your half brother. It may give you some kind of indication of your father’s moral character when I tell you he had a child with another woman, an American heiress, less than six months after you were born, after your mother’s death. It was long enough, unfortunately, for him to marry this woman, thus making Charles legitimate and now able to carry the title. Disgraceful, really.” Hestia sat back in her seat. “Oh, but this is an awful amount for you to take in over tea at the Savoy.”

  “It is,” Clio said softly.

  Hestia took a deep breath. “I’m afraid to tell you there’s more and that it is to do with Charles. Now”—she paused—“it is very complicated, but very important, so you must listen carefully. You see, when your mother married, a great deal of money was placed in the trust of her husband, your father, for their future children. This was a gift from her grandparents, who were rather old-fashioned, I’m afraid, and believed that the male, as the head of the household, should control all financial dealings. Unfortunately, because of your father’s machinations, you have been robbed of this inheritance and it has now been passed along in your father’s estate to Charles. This money, as I see it, is not his, but rightfully yours to claim. It was Demeter’s money on marriage, meant for her own children, and Charles is not Demeter’s child. I have informed Charles that the three of you are here and reunited and I believe it is now my duty to claim back this money for you, in order that you may make your own way in life and so that the truth can—”