The Heiresses Page 8

  Hestia raised her hand on hearing this and Ro was sure for a moment that she was about to strike Charles across the face. But then she dropped her hand again just as quickly. “I will not cause a scene. That was your father’s domain. But I will tell you one thing. Offering my nieces a third of that money is an insult of the highest order. That was my sister’s money, which came directly from her grandparents and remained untouched—I know that much from Demeter and from seeing my father’s accounts after his death. Demeter wanted to keep the money for her own children, and because of her wishes, our father gave her a generous living allowance when he realized your own father was incapable of keeping a household—when he realized the extent of William’s drinking, gambling, and drug taking. This is what your father’s household ran itself on during their marriage. Nothing else. I wonder if all your newly made political friends know about the full extent of his drug taking, drinking, and philandering? I’m sure the Conservatives wouldn’t look upon you so fondly if that came out. It is the Conservatives you have set your sights on, isn’t it? Did I guess correctly before? How fortunate that I am friends with so many of them!”

  Charles tried extremely hard to maintain an even expression, but it was obvious to all that Hestia’s words had punctured his skin. “Are you blackmailing me, Lady Hestia?”

  “Not yet.” Hestia’s eyes flashed. “It’s a simple warning from someone who is older and wiser and also rather political. You are young. Your allegiances are weak. I would be very careful whom you upset, Charles. Very careful indeed.”

  “Thank you for that kind warning.” Charles practically spat the words.

  Thalia spoke up in the brief silence that followed, stepping forward to align herself with Hestia. “And what of our titles?” She glanced from Charles to Hestia, and back again.

  Charles only looked at her as if she were insane. “What titles? Do you not understand? You do not exist! You have no way of proving you are related to me. Believe me, you would be wise to accept the offer that I have made you today and go back to where you came from.”

  Hestia took Thalia’s arm now and turned her full force upon Charles. “My nieces will, of course, not be accepting your offer today. We will take our leave now in order that you may think your words, and mine, over. Girls, it is time for us to depart…” Hestia turned, motioning them to gather around her with a sweep of one arm.

  Thalia and Ro followed her dutifully.

  “But…” Only Clio remained behind, still facing Charles.

  Charles jumped on the situation. “Ah, I see the cuckoo remains!” he called out, forcing Hestia to turn back on hearing his words.

  “Clio!” Hestia paused to stare at her niece, who was still standing next to Charles. Ro and Thalia flanked her on either side. Ro saw the same look fall over Clio’s face that she had seen when she viewed the photo of their mother in the rowboat that morning—the three of them, standing side by side, most likely made a formidable blond-haired, blue-eyed threesome. Yet another reminder that she did not belong here. “Clio, we must go. Come along.” Hestia’s voice had a warning note to it. “Now.”

  Clio glanced at Charles one last time, who leaned forward to whisper a few words to her. She nodded her head slightly before she turned and made her way over to Hestia, as the other girls had done.

  “What did he say to you just then?” Thalia demanded, grabbing her arm.

  Clio’s expression remained blank as she wrenched her arm back. “Nothing,” she said, “that I am going to tell you.”

  * * *

  Thalia bided her time until she and Ro were alone in the drawing room later that evening. Ro had felt Thalia’s desperate need to be alone with her the rest of the exceedingly long afternoon. “Whatever Hestia is hiding it’s all to do with what went on at the observatory today.” The words tumbled from Thalia’s mouth as soon as no one else was around.

  “Which was?” Ro looked up from the book she was reading in the armchair beside the fireplace. She uncurled her legs from beneath her, readying herself to listen to whatever theory Thalia had come up with.

  “Well, for a start, Charles said that he was surprised to see three of us. And then he said something later, about Clio being the ‘cuckoo.’”

  Ro’s mouth twisted for a moment as she considered her words carefully before she spoke. “Of course, Clio’s looks are obviously different from ours. But what do you think he is suggesting? That she is not one of us? That he guesses she is not one of us? That he knows she is not one of us?”

  Thalia simply shrugged. “Perhaps he knows. As you do.”

  Ro sighed. On the steamer trip back to the town house, her head had been swirling with theories on how Clio could be related to them, not related to them, or only partially related to them, as Charles was. These theories ran wild and hurt her brain and ranged from penny dreadful–like stories of babies being swapped at birth, with the third triplet being exchanged for a maid’s child and becoming the Clio Ro knew, while the “real,” fair Clio was brought up by the maid herself (though why she would want to do this and what benefit there would be to it, Ro had no idea), to one triplet being dropped by Demeter’s doctor at birth and the doctor covering this up with a replacement child, to medical oddities such as the discovery of an unknown form of reverse albinism, making Clio darker than she and Thalia, which she knew was completely nonsensical, but nothing very much made sense right now. “I don’t know that, Thalia. I … don’t know anything for sure.” Ro remembered she did, at least, know one thing Thalia did not: what Charles had whispered to Clio that afternoon. However, she was not about to betray Clio’s confidence.

  “If you truly don’t know, then you need to find out.”

  “And how am I supposed to—” The pair stopped quarreling as Clio entered the room once more.

  “Oh, don’t mind me.” Clio paused in the doorway, realizing the two girls were discussing her.

  “Clio, don’t be like that.” Ro got up from her armchair and approached her. She offered her arm, which Clio took in a limp and unresponsive manner. Quietly, thoughtfully, Ro watched Clio out of the corner of one eye. She found herself doing this quite a bit. The thing was, Ro was not the sort of person who believed in gut feelings and hunches and unscientific ideas like this; she had used to scoff at Aunt Charlotte, who was a twin and would comment how she often knew exactly what her sister was about to say before she said it, or that she’d felt things happen to her sister when they were many hundreds of miles apart. But there was something about Clio, Ro had to admit it to herself. There was a connection between them. Perhaps it was more imagined than real, or Ro wanted to believe it so, but either way, it was there all the same. In some ways she thought she felt it more keenly than she did between herself and Thalia, who shared the same features.

  “You’ll be happy to know I’m returning home. Tomorrow,” Clio said shortly, dropping Ro’s arm abruptly and rubbing the spot at which they had touched. “Hestia has tried to dissuade me, but I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury of staying in London and playing ridiculous games with people I may, or may not, be related to. I must return to my mother. She needs me. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you will not leave the city—”

  “No, I won’t.” Thalia interrupted Clio here. Clio had tried both on the return steamer journey and over dinner to convince her that leaving London could be a good idea—that it might be their only offer from Charles, that there were other cities, like Paris and New York, that could serve her equally as well as the bright lights of London. “So you may as well drop the subject.”

  Clio sighed a tired, defeated sigh.

  From across the room, Thalia continued to watch Clio closely, calm and unimpressed. There was a long pause before she spoke again. “So that’s it then? Really?” she said, with a shrug. “Well, either you give up very easily, or this is a ruse—”

  “A ruse?” Clio’s expression came to life with this and her dark eyes flashed. “And what do you mean by that?”

  Th
alia didn’t hesitate. “Well, this is what Charles wants, isn’t it? He wants us to leave town. You’re awfully suddenly leaving town. Is this your way of claiming your share of the money? Or perhaps even more than your share? Is that what your whispering was about?”

  “Why, I…” Clio was lost for words and turned to Ro for help.

  Ro spoke for her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Thalia. Clio couldn’t be so underhanded. And anyway, Charles made it quite clear that we must all leave town together if we want any money from him.”

  Two sets of blue eyes and one set of brown eyes stared at one another. It was Thalia who spoke up again first, her words aimed at Clio. “You must stay. If you want the money, that is.”

  “I can’t stay. I’ve told you that,” Clio said, crossly. “What is the point in staying, anyway? Charles is only interested in us leaving.”

  “The point is,” Thalia said, “to change his mind on that account. He was hardly going to make us his best offer on our first meeting. Any fool knows you don’t initially offer as much as you’re willing to actually give.”

  Clio paused now. “Do you think we could?” She looked first at Thalia, then over at Ro. “Do you think it is possible? To change his mind?”

  “Everything is negotiable, Clio,” Thalia said, with a knowing tone that belied her years. “The problem is, we have no real legal claim to this money. As the law sees it, it was our father’s money to do with as he pleased. It is only through luck that he did not spend it and it is only through convincing Charles that it is in his best interest to hand it over that it might be ours. But how to do that?”

  Standing quite, quite still, Ro frowned deeply, concentrating, trying to think things through. There must be a way forward. There must. Oh, if only this were as easy to work out as a mathematics problem, or a recipe in domestic science. There, everything was laid out for you. All you needed to do was to learn the rules or read the instructions, and you would produce the correct answer … or a perfect Victoria sponge.

  “She has a plan,” Thalia said, to no one in particular, making Ro lose concentration and look up. “You do, don’t you?”

  Ro bit her lip before turning to Clio. “Clio, what Thalia and I were talking about before—we were talking about the truth. About finding out the truth, that is. We all know there is more to this than we are being told. Surely you must want to know who your true parents are and how you are related to us? Why we all carry these small, embroidered hearts? There must be a reason. If we find out the truth—the real truth behind all of this—then perhaps that information will be useful in changing Charles’s mind somehow?”

  “But I have a mother now. One who needs me.” Clio’s words were strong, but her voice wavered.

  “And who needs money, also,” Ro reminded her quietly. “You told us yourself you need money for her medical care.”

  Clio began to look very unsure.

  Ro turned back to Thalia now. “To answer your question, no, I don’t have a plan. Not a proper one. Not yet. I think the best thing we can do is gather all the information we can. I also believe Hestia is right. We need to stay together. At least for a while. There’s no denying there is more to this than meets the eye. We need to find out what everyone knows—Charles, Hestia—and there must be others. The thing is, I…” Ro became flustered now, unsure of how to explain what she was thinking. “It’s only that … Oh, I don’t know how to say it, but I think we are sisters. All three of us. I don’t know how, because we shouldn’t be. We can’t be. But when I look at Clio, I just know that it’s true. And, believe me, every fiber of my being does not trust in hunches, or ‘just knowing’ things are true. Two days ago I would have scoffed at the very idea. But today, now…” She turned to Clio. “I simply do. And I need to know why that is.”

  Standing next to her, Clio was silent.

  When Ro could stand it no longer, she spoke again. “Do you feel the same way?” she asked. She could not remember being more fearful of hearing someone’s answer in her entire life. There was something inside her that ached for Clio to also believe they were sisters—that looks alone proved nothing.

  “I…” Clio gulped, pausing to look Ro straight in the eyes. “I do.” Her gaze turned to Thalia, on the sofa. “I feel the same way about Thalia also.” The admission looked as if it pained her, but she made it anyway.

  Ro expected Thalia to make some clever, cruel remark at Clio’s expense. But to her surprise, she did not. Instead, she jumped up off the sofa and onto her feet. “That settles it, then. We will approach this together as a united force. You need money,” she said as she glanced at Clio. “I need money. And you need…” She turned to Ro. “I’m not sure. The truth, a family, but eventually you’ll discover you need money. Everyone does, don’t they? Three are stronger than one. We need to band together against this revolting Charles, who, being so short and unattractive, I highly doubt could be related to any of us.”

  “Why don’t you go home to visit your mother for a night or two and then return?” Ro reached over to touch Clio on the arm. “To ease your mind.”

  “And when you return,” Thalia said, “we will have a firm plan to attack Charles. All three of us. Together.”

  * * *

  “Hello?” Ro knocked on the door, slightly breathless after following the directions she had been given at the university office. Up the stairs, turn right, follow the hallway, turn left, and then the second door on the right. She frowned slightly, hoping that she was correct and also that everybody had not run home for lunch. It was one o’clock. Clio had gone home to her mother this morning and Thalia was occupied running some mystery “errand.” Ro had spent the better part of the evening last night and breakfast this morning relentlessly quizzing her aunt on exactly what she knew about her nieces and how she knew it. As Hestia squirmed before her, Ro had slowly learned of the several people who had been present at their birth and Hestia herself said she had actually witnessed her sister give birth to three babies who could only be triplets. Like Thalia, she still held the feeling that her aunt was not revealing all, but, at present, it seemed to be all Hestia was willing to divulge. It was not much to start with, but it was something.

  There was no sound from inside the room. With a sigh, Ro stepped forward, cupped her hands, and attempted to peer through the thick square pane of glass in front of her. She could see no movement inside. Pulling back once more, she glanced up slightly and it was then that she spotted the small wooden, gold-lettered sign that she had previously missed—DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGY. What a silly place to put it, she started to think when, suddenly, the door opened before her and a head popped out.

  “Hello,” the head said. It was a man’s head. A young man. A handsome one, too, Ro noticed immediately, with fair hair that fell into his green eyes as his head tilted sideways around the door frame. Perhaps he noticed her thinking this, because he suddenly looked self-conscious and shook his head, pushing it back. Like her Uncle Henry, he had the air of someone who is simply too busy with scholarly pursuits to worry about silly things like hair.

  “How do you do?” Ro said. “My name is Erato Halesworth. I was directed here from downstairs. I have a … question. A question that I’m hoping someone in the department of biology will be able to answer.”

  “Vincent Allington.” The man with the green eyes stood upright now, bringing his body fully around the door. He stuck out his hand for Ro to shake. “I have to say you have perfect timing, Erato Halesworth. I am desperately in need of a break. Why don’t you come in and I’ll see if I can answer this intriguing question of yours?”

  * * *

  Anxious about how to politely ask the question to which she so desperately wanted the answer, Ro scanned the room nervously. Just as she had expected, there were piles of papers, notebooks, and books everywhere—on the desks, on the windowsill, on the floor, even stacked on top of an armchair.

  “Would you like to sit down?” Vincent followed her gaze.

  “Oh, no, thank you. It�
��s just that it’s very much like my uncle’s office. He’s a professor, you know. Of botany.”

  “Ah, so that explains your beautiful, learned name. And that you seem at ease with my strange paper-stacking ways.”

  Ro laughed. “Yes, very.” She was flattered to have her name called beautiful and that he knew where it came from—generally people thought it simply odd, or foreign. Or both. Her eyes scanned some of the books’ titles—the one closest to her read A Civic Biology. “So, you are a biologist, but I was a little confused downstairs before—exactly what is your area of specialty?”

  “Eugenics. Have you heard of it?”

  Ro frowned slightly. “Yes, I think so. A little. It’s all about improving the human race, isn’t it? Through breeding? Like you would do with animals, really. Horses and so on.” Now she saw why she had been sent to Vincent. She had been vague in what she wanted to know—blushing as she muttered about genes and breeding.

  Vincent’s eyes widened. “I’m impressed. It must be my lucky day. It’s rare for ladies of your intelligence to stop by my office to ask questions. In fact, barely anyone ever stops by and the few that have were extremely boring old men. Believe me, I’d never ask them to sit down for fear they’d fall asleep and remain forever.” He moved over to the armchair now, picked up the pile of papers sitting upon it, and placed the papers on the floor. “But you, you must sit down. I’m dying to hear your question now. I’m sure it’s an awfully good one.”

  Ro sat down. And over the next few minutes, again, very vaguely, she outlined her question, which was, essentially, would it be at all possible for a multiple birth to contain the progeny of two fathers. It was an idea she had come up with only this morning. She had almost brushed it away at first, thinking it a ridiculous notion. But then, from the back of her mind, she dredged up the small amount of information they had covered on human reproduction in biology at school, while their teacher had blushed furiously, which was ridiculous in this day and age. She had started to put two and two together and, not long after, grabbed her coat, found a taxi, and made her way to the university. Now, to her shame, she used a litter of puppies having different looks as an example as she asked Vincent for further information. She half expected him to laugh at her and send her on her way. “I’m afraid this is all a little beyond my scope. I am aware, of course, of Mendel’s work, but this…” She ended with a shrug, letting her words trail off.