The Heiresses Read online

  “You know of Mendel’s work?” Vincent stared back at her.

  “A little.” Ro nodded.

  “Your parents must be very intelligent indeed to have given you such an excellent education. There’s nothing I despise more than the notion of learning French and the piano and being done with it all.”

  “Oh, but I have no parents. My uncle is my guardian.” It was only after she said these words, ones that she had said so many times before, that she realized this was the first time in her life that she had uttered them and knew them to be absolutely true. Her parents weren’t pirates, or abducted royalty, or living off pineapples in a tropical jungle (all notions she had when she was younger). They were simply dead. As she thought this, she felt herself further drawn to Thalia and Clio.

  “Ah,” Vincent said as he nodded, “I see. Now,” he took a step forward and then crouched down before Ro. His hair fell over his left eye once more and Ro longed to reach over and flick it back for him—to be the person who was allowed to do such things. The one person in the whole world who was allowed to straighten his jacket and brush that piece of thread from his trousers. Perhaps he was married? He had not mentioned a wife, but then, why would he mention a wife to someone who had knocked on his door wanting to ask a simple question? Ro forced herself to stop her daydreaming and concentrate. “You’re obviously an intelligent, educated woman,” Vincent continued. “If I give you the answer to this question I know you’re not going to be silly about it and blush and so on. We can talk freely about these matters?”

  Ro nodded. She had come to ask her question of a man of science and now she must be prepared to listen to his answer in a non-schoolgirl-like manner.

  “Excellent,” Vincent said. “Well, I must tell you it is possible. So, you are talking of these three puppies. You know that when a bitch is in heat, she releases multiple eggs, which is why you end up with so many pups?”

  “Yes.” Ro tried with all her might not to blush.

  “And you would expect all the eggs to be fertilized at the same time, by the same father…”

  “Well, yes,” Ro said as she nodded again.

  But Vincent shook his head. “Ah, but there’s the trick—the eggs can actually be fertilized at different times by different fathers. Say you had five puppies. They could, theoretically, all have different fathers and all look dissimilar, though, of course, they would share the same mother.”

  Ro thought about this quickly. “But the three puppies…,” she said. “What if two of them looked very alike? Wouldn’t that suggest that they all had the same father? That there was some dominance of sorts?”

  “And the third looked … entirely different, you mean?” Vincent listened attentively to her words.

  “Extremely different,” Ro said and nodded once more, sitting forward slightly in the armchair, both fearful and excited by where this conversation was headed.

  “No, not at all. It would simply suggest to me that two of them had the same father and the third had a different father entirely.”

  Ro paled on hearing this. She had known it was impossible Clio could be born of two parents with blue eyes. Why she had doubted herself for even one moment she had no idea. For Clio’s sake, she supposed. She looked up at Vincent. “And this could happen to all sorts of animals? Cats? Mice? Even humans?”

  “Certainly,” Vincent answered. “Though it is much less likely in humans, of course. Where the female of the species only tends to release one egg at a time.” He smiled his winning smile at her. “But, wait. You of all people should know the myth of Leda conceiving four children at the one time by two different men—Zeus and Tyndareus.”

  Ro frowned, her thoughts elsewhere. “Well, yes. Vaguely. Though I can’t say I’d go looking to Greek mythology for scientific fact. And didn’t she lay them? As actual eggs, I mean?”

  “I do have to give you that much. Not entirely realistic, I must admit. All rather odd, truth be told. Still, does that answer your question?” He rose from his position.

  Ro continued to frown, staring at the floor now. So, it was true. Hestia had seen triplets born to her sister, without any switching or swapping. Therefore, the only logical solution was that Clio had a different father than her and Thalia. Yet, she could still be one of them. A half sister. Ro found she could barely breathe. She had been right about feeling this connection with Clio. They were related after all. In the space of forty-eight hours, she had come to have a full sister, a half sister, a half brother, and an aunt. She sat quite, quite still in the armchair feeling slightly lightheaded.

  “Miss Halesworth?”

  Ro blinked on finding Vincent before her once more. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said as she jolted to attention. “It’s just that … I had no idea. No idea at all this was possible.” To be truthful, she had never considered it. Not that humans could … and that her own mother had …

  “This must be a very special dog,” Vincent said as he watched her closely.

  “Yes.” Worried about being found out, Ro woke up to herself. She went to stand and Vincent took a step forward, toward her.

  “Is there anything else I can—”

  “No, thank you. It was just the one question,” Ro answered abruptly. “Which you have answered for me beautifully and which I must thank you very much for explaining so well.” She adjusted her hat and readied herself to depart. It was only now that she realized she had never even taken off her coat.

  “It was my pleasure,” Vincent replied. Ro could feel his eyes still upon her, wondering why there was such a sudden change in her demeanor. Oh, if only he knew the truth of it all! What would he have to say about that? She was sure two fathers from one human litter did not line up with the high breeding standards of a eugenicist.

  “I really must go.” Ro gestured toward the door. “Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Allington.” And then, because he made no move, Ro ran over to the door and opened it herself.

  “Wait.” She turned to see Vincent follow her with a few brisk steps. “Please, call me Vincent.”

  “Sorry, I must…” Ro was sure in a moment that her eyes would spill over and that she would cry. She was not usually such an emotional person, but everything she had heard was all too much to take in during such a short space of time.

  He caught her wrist, forcing her to turn back toward him. “Miss Halesworth, please. May I see you again?”

  “Oh, I…” Ro was not expecting this at all.

  “It’s easy. Say ‘yes.’” Vincent smiled a winning smile at her as he released her wrist. “You can’t simply knock on my door and ask an intelligent question, fully understand the answer, be incredibly beautiful, and then disappear. It wouldn’t be right, you know!”

  “I…” In all her life, no one had ever said such things to Ro. Ever. She wasn’t entirely sure how to reply. “Well, I suppose it would be all right.” Then, realizing this didn’t sound very inviting, she continued. “I would like that very much, thank you.”

  There was a pause where the two of them grinned at each other in an extremely nonintelligent fashion.

  “Do you have a card? An address?” Vincent finally asked.

  Goodness, what a fool he must think I am, Ro thought as she shook her head. “I’m visiting with my aunt,” she said, repeating Hestia’s address to him.

  “I will remember it,” Vincent replied. “And your aunt’s name?”

  Ro paused for a moment, but realized she was trapped. There was no getting around it—she would have to reveal her aunt’s name. “Lady Hestia Craven,” she said quietly, hoping for all the world that he had never heard of her.

  Unfortunately, the shock on Vincent’s face was immediately evident. “Truly? Your aunt is Lady Hestia Craven?”

  Ro nodded, with a gulp. Surely he would never come to call now? Most likely he knew she had been institutionalized in the past. She knew that eugenics did not hold much esteem for the feeble-minded.

  But she need not have worried. Vincent’s smile wi
dened. “Now she,” he said, “is a woman of intelligence and breeding. How lucky you are to have such an aunt.”

  Vincent promised to call.

  And by the time Ro closed the door behind her, despite the shock of what she had just learned inside the small office, she was desperately in love with the handsome Dr. Vincent Allington.

  * * *

  On the way back to Belgrave Square, Ro thought long and hard about whether she should tell Thalia of her findings. She would not have thought twice about it but for how Thalia had behaved yesterday, when she thought that Clio was returning home only to keep Charles happy. What if she somehow used this information against Clio? It had been Ro’s own idea to seek further information at the university about their situation and it was not something she had discussed with Thalia. But no … the three of them had agreed they would band together in this fight against Charles. It would be wrong to keep such a secret from either of them.

  Ro was alighting from her taxi outside number 32, when the horn of a motorcar startled her with its sudden, long toot. It wasn’t until the taxi had taken off that she saw it was her that this noise was directed at.

  “What are you waiting for?” Thalia called out, from behind the wheel of a shiny, dark blue touring car. “Get in!” She pulled over to the curb. Or, to be more exact, onto the curb. “Her name’s Esmeralda!”

  After a long, disbelieving stare, Ro stepped over to open the passenger door with a tug and got into the motorcar. “Whose is it?” She turned to Thalia, running her hand over the immaculate, pale leather seat. She had to admit, it was a beautiful machine. But, before Thalia could answer, there was a scrabbling at Ro’s feet. “Oh!” she yelped, as something jumped up onto her lap—a West Highland white terrier, as it turned out.

  “That’s Sir Haggis McTavish,” Thalia said. “But you can call him Sir McTavish.”

  “I’m honored,” Ro replied, dubiously, as the animal proceeded to attempt to lick her to death, starting with her left ear. Beneath her, Ro felt the car roar under Thalia’s control. “Wait,” she said as her hand stretched out toward Thalia. “You haven’t answered me. Whose are these items?”

  “Mine, silly!” Thalia laughed, turning toward her. “Or they are now.”

  “You bought a car. And a dog. And cigarettes.” Ro eyed the packet on the seat beside her.

  Thalia grabbed the packet. “Care for one?” She flicked the packet open. “They’re Chesterfields. American, you know.”

  “I don’t know. And, no, thank you. Oh, Haggis McTavish! Do get down!” Obediently, the dog stopped jumping upon her and moved onto the seat beside her. “Sir Haggis McTavish is a despicable name for a dog.” She patted his soft, white head. “Anyway, where on earth did you find both the car and dog? Don’t tell me they came together. Or that you bought them from some man in the street.”

  “Of course not,” Thalia replied, as if the answer should be obvious. “I bought the car and then I bought Haggis McTavish from a man in the street.”

  Ro threw her an exasperated look and Thalia continued. “He was an old man and Haggis McTavish just looked so bored. I knew exactly how he felt, so I stopped and bought him.”

  “And this man simply … handed him over?”

  “Well, there was a little bargaining.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Ro said with a sigh. “Whose car is it really? Please tell me you haven’t stolen it.”

  Thalia paused to smile winningly at two young men passing by.

  “Lovely motor!” one of them called out, and Thalia waved one leather-driving-gloved hand back.

  “Thalia!” Ro directed her attention back. “The car. Whose is it?”

  Thalia turned back, crossly. “Mine, I told you. It’s not only you with rich relatives, you know. I have my … ways.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Ro’s eyebrows raised. “But a car … I can’t imagine how much … or how you…” She glanced around her, at the smart, unmarked leather and the wide, empty backseat. And then Haggis McTavish licked her hand, and her eyes moved to look at him and the packet of cigarettes on the seat once more. “I’m not sure what Hestia will say about smoking…”

  Thalia simply laughed. “Oh, sweetie. She will probably congratulate me!”

  * * *

  As Thalia and Ro made their way inside the town house, Ro reported all that Vincent had told her, though she still seemed uneasy about the motorcar. “Well, well, well,” Thalia said as she removed her royal blue felt cloche from her head (also new, and which she felt was really rather fetching, as it set off her eyes nicely). She patted her hair into place once more as she spoke, more than pleased with how things were turning out. Ro seemed quite capable of gathering information and, gauging by what she had learned today from both Hestia and this doctor at the university, they were sure to have enough information to be of use to them in some way or another soon. She turned to face her sister. “So, Clio isn’t such a ‘cuckoo’ after all. I’d say we know more than Charles.”

  In front of her, Ro held her breath, looking worried about what Thalia might say next. “We may well know more than anybody,” Ro said. “More than Hestia. Maybe even more than our mother did. And that is the important thing to remember—we share a mother. Please do not forget that, Thalia.”

  Thalia paused, considering her sister’s words. “Perhaps this is why we were shipped out to all the distant relatives? Because of Clio? Because our father knew?”

  Ro seemed to think about this for a moment before replying. “It’s a possibility. It’s difficult to say. Certainly, I never knew something like this was possible, but he may have suspected. Especially if he had an idea of who her father might be.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking—he may have guessed when he saw her. She does have very … distinctive looks. Still, how can we be 100 percent sure? Even if it is biologically possible, as you say, for Clio to be one of us, how do we know that it was Clio herself who was that third baby?”

  “We don’t. Except”—Ro held up one finger—“Hestia said herself that she saw all three babies born. Perhaps she noticed a difference in Clio’s looks as well? I must remember to ask her. Oh, and there are the hearts, of course.” Ro’s voice was strained.

  Thalia missed nothing. “Do stop fretting. I’m not going to run off telling tales to Charles.”

  “Well, good,” Ro said, looking relieved.

  Thalia frowned slightly. “Do you know where Hestia is, by the way?”

  “The last I heard, she had—”

  “A meeting to go to,” Thalia cut in, with a sigh. It seemed to be all Hestia ever did—meeting after meeting. She was certainly on quite the mission to claim her father’s seat in the House of Lords. Thalia wondered if she actually knew what she would do with it if she ever obtained it, or even if she had thought that far ahead. It seemed to be all about fighting the good fight with Hestia—with both her father’s seat and her sister’s dowry. Thalia doubted she would be happy if she achieved both of her objectives and had nothing left to squabble about. Thinking of her aunt, Thalia reached out and caught Ro’s arm. “You know, I don’t think we should tell Hestia about this. Not right away.” The truth was, Thalia still didn’t entirely trust her aunt and wanted to spend some time working out exactly what she did, and didn’t, know. This was something she was particularly good at. It would be interesting to drop little pieces of information here and there to see which ones made her squirm. She gave Ro’s arm a pat as she released it. “Anyway, darling, I must be off once more.”

  “What? Where are you going?” Ro seemed surprised that Thalia was heading out so soon after returning to the town house, but, for Thalia, it was more of a surprise that she was here at all, now that she had a motorcar of her very own. She had only come back to drop off some of the money she had purloined from her “relative.” (She was very glad Ro hadn’t questioned her too closely about this yet. Of course, she could have made up some fabulous, intricate lie if she had had to, but it was always nicer not to bother, i
f it was possible.)

  Thalia gave her sister a saucy grin. “Where am I going? I’ll tell you where I’m going—I’ve been invited to a party this evening!” She grabbed her coat once more. “And I’m planning on having a very good time.”

  * * *

  In the middle of the night, Ro woke to the sound of a whispering voice in her bedroom. “Pssst … Thalia!” it called out. “Thalia?”

  In a dreamy daze, Ro pushed herself up in bed. “What?” she replied croakily.

  There was a pause, then, “Thank God it’s you. I should have counted the doors on the way to the loo. For a moment there I thought I’d crept into your aunt’s room by mistake.” The voice came closer now. “I won’t be needing this anymore,” the person continued, and Ro heard something drop to the floor.

  Waking up a little more, Ro realized the voice was, in fact, a male voice. She started and gripped her bedclothes around her. “Who’s there?” She spoke louder now, her heart beginning to beat faster as she stared at the faint outline of the body approaching her. “Who are you?”

  In the middle of the room, the figure stopped dead. “Oh, Christ. You’re not Thalia, are you? Listen, don’t turn on the—”

  Too late. Ro reached over and switched on her bedside lamp.

  And there, illuminated in the center of the room, stood a young man with dark, tousled hair. A completely and utterly naked young man with dark, tousled hair. Ro’s head told her to scream, but instead her mouth dropped open and, for a moment, the pair simply stared at one another. Then, when they had both recovered from the shock of the suddenly lit room, at exactly the same point in time, the young man scrambled for the towel he had dropped upon the floor just seconds ago and Ro found some words. “Oh my goodness,” she said. Still sitting in her bed, the blankets clutched around her, she began to laugh, from the shock (what was Thalia thinking?) of seeing a naked male form that wasn’t fashioned from marble, and from the absurdity of the entire situation.