The Second Mrs Darcy. Elizabeth Aston
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Название: The Second Mrs Darcy

Автор: Elizabeth Aston

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Историческая литература

Серия:

isbn: 9780007287895

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ Mrs. Melbury, I think?”

      “Yes.”

      “And she was an only child, she had no brothers or sisters?”

      “No.”

      “Exactly so. That is exactly the case as stated here.”

      Octavia didn’t know whether to laugh at this absurd parade of paper shuffling and the air of suppressed importance evident in Mr. Gurney’s freckled face, or whether to ring the bell for the bearer to escort him out. She decided on a compromise. “It is growing warmer and you have had a hot journey, I think. Allow me to call for refreshments.”

      The bearer arrived with tall glasses of nimbu pani, a refreshing drink made with fresh limes and sugar. Mr. Gurney mopped his brow with a large spotted handkerchief.

      “I am afraid I am not making myself clear, but I am obliged to ascertain the facts, to make sure that everything is as is stated in these papers from London. It has all taken a deal of time, but with her passing away in India and her lawyers in London, it doesn’t make for easy communication.”

      “What are these papers you mention? Who has passed away?”

      Mr. Gurney looked surprised. “Did I not say? I refer to the estate of the late Mrs. Anne Worthington, who died, I regret to say, some months ago. In Darjeeling. She lived in England, had done so since she became a widow, but she had made the trip to India to visit her tea plantations.” His cheerful face assumed a look of sudden gravity, then he brightened. “She was, however, a very old lady, well into her eighties, a remarkable age, you will agree.”

      “And a redoubtable woman, to be making the journey to India at that age. But there is some mistake,” said Octavia calmly. “I’m not related to this Mrs. Worthington. There is obviously some confusion because the name is the same as my mother’s. My grandfather was Mr. Digby Worthington, as we have agreed, but his wife, my grandmother, was an Amelia Worthington, who died many, many years ago. I have no other Worthington relations; my grandfather was an only son.”

      “Ha!” exclaimed Mr. Gurney. “Not so, Mrs. Darcy, not so. If you are unacquainted with the fact that your grandfather had a younger brother, then I can understand your confusion.”

      “A younger brother?” said Octavia; this really did startle her. “You are mistaken, I would have known about it had such a person existed.”

      “Would you? He was, perhaps, something of a black sheep, a ne’er-do-well, in the eyes of his family, and when he left the shores of England never to return … Such people often drop from memory, and I believe that your grandfather died before you were born. Exactly so. Your mother, sadly, died when you were born, and as you yourself said, you have no other Worthington relatives, so how should you be aware of the existence of this other brother, who left England so many years ago?”

      “I still find it impossible that there could be any such person.”

      “Ah, you find it hard to believe, but I assure you, Mrs. Darcy, the papers are all in order, there is no question about it. I represent a firm of lawyers in London, Wilkinson and Winter, a firm of the very highest repute, anyone will vouch for them. If they say a thing is so, with regard, that is, to wills and ancestors and descendants and so forth—then you may take it that they are right. And since this is no mere trifling legacy at stake, they will have been most particularly careful to ascertain—in short, you can take it that you had such a great-uncle, that his widow was Mrs. Anne Worthington, of Leeds in Yorkshire, who recently left this mortal round.”

      “Yes, very well, I believe you, but what has it to do with me? I never knew Mrs. Worthington; as I did not know of her existence, I scarcely could have known her. I am sorry to hear of her death, but it hardly seems an urgent matter. Has she no other living family? I assume there is some problem to do with her estate, and you seem to think that I may be able to assist you in some way, but you have come to the wrong person, I cannot help you at all.”

      “No, no, I do not ask for your help, except in the matter, the pure formality, of my needing to see that you are indeed who you are. No, I have the honour of being the bearer of what I am sure you will find good tidings, for Mrs. Worthington names you in her will as her sole heir; you inherit everything she owns.”

      “But I am no blood relation of hers! She never knew me, how can this be?”

      “She had no family of her own, you are her husband’s closest living relation, and since her fortune came to her from him, on his death, it is quite right and proper that it should come to you.”

      Octavia’s head was in a whirl. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again. No, she wasn’t dreaming. She was sitting here, with this strange young man, in Harriet Thurloe’s large drawing room, with its double doors leading on to the verandah beyond. There, outside, just whisking out of sight was Ferdie, the mongoose, encouraged to live in the garden as a deterrent to and scourge of snakes … She pulled herself together. “Precisely what, Mr. Gurney, do I inherit from this supposed great-aunt of mine?”

      Mr. Gurney looked alarmed. “As to precisely, that is something I can’t say. These are confidential matters, and the overland route, although swifter than the sea journey, is fraught with potential hazards. I merely have the information I have given you. However, I think I may say that it will be a substantial inheritance, Mrs. Worthington had property in India, and …”

      “Tell me, how came she to have property in India?”

      “Did I not explain? Mr. Worthington made his fortune in India, so I am informed. He was a nabob, as we say, and he never returned to England once he had quit the country of his birth, when he was a young man of twenty or so. He was sent out to India by his family. He met his wife here, and they lived in Darjeeling. After her husband’s death, Mrs. Worthington returned to England. To the north of England; there is, I understand, a property in the north of England, in Yorkshire. Again, I have no details.”

      Octavia could hardly believe her ears. A house? Yorkshire was the county where her third half sister Drusilla resided, but it was a large county, there was no likelihood of her having been a neighbour of the late Mrs. Worthington’s. Not that, from the sound of it, her great-aunt would have been the kind of person that Drusilla would call upon.

      “In the circumstances,” said Mr. Gurney, frowning, “of course, I do not know what your plans are, but I would urge you to consider returning to England as soon as it can be arranged. There is a vessel, an East Indiaman, the Sir John Rokesby, which is due to sail; it might be difficult to obtain a passage at this late stage, but if it were possible, I most strongly advise you to make the voyage to England. You need to consult with our firm in London, that will be much the best thing for you to do.”

      “My cousin, Mr. Thurloe, is with the Company. I think there would be no problem with obtaining a berth. I was contemplating going back to England in any case, it was only the expense—”

      “Oh, Mrs. Darcy, expense is no consideration at all. I am empowered—directed, I should say—to make available to you whatever sums you might need to defray the expenses of the journey—of any expenses you might incur. You have only to name a sum; there is no problem with that, none at all.”

      Octavia smiled, and Mr. Gurney blinked. The tall young woman suddenly looked years younger, not that she could be so very old, and there was a colour in her cheeks; he had thought she looked sad and pale when he arrived, but now she was transformed.

      “May I take it that you will go to London?” he СКАЧАТЬ