The Christmas Strike. Nikki Rivers

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СКАЧАТЬ to hide her overwhelming anxiety to know. “How much am I to inherit?”

      “My client left everything to you, Miss Vincent, apart from a small sum which is to go to his valet, a man who had been with him for many years.”

      Mr Warwick made a show of consulting a sheaf of papers on his knee. He was sitting on an upright chair opposite Leonora, with a table by his side. He cleared his throat and reached out for the glass of Madeira he had been offered on his arrival. Leonora quelled her growing impatience, making herself take inaudible but deep, calming breaths as she waited for him to continue.

      He took a sip of the wine and then, at last, went on. “There is a house in Bath, a substantial residence not far from the Abbey. You know Bath?”

      Leonora shook her head. He said, “I am informed that it is an older property, but superior in size to the fashionable terraced buildings designed by John Wood and his son. It is near the Pump Room and Baths and the shops in Milsom Street are within easy walking distance. A conveyance would be required to reach the Upper Rooms, where the Balls and Assemblies are held. The property would be worth a fair sum if you cared to sell it.”

      Leonora stirred and he went on quickly, as though he wished to continue without interruption. “At the moment the ground and first floors are let to a friend of the late Mr Vincent, who himself occupied the rooms on the floor above. The gentlemen shared the kitchen and servants’ facilities in the basements and attics.”

      The frown, which had disappeared from Leonora’s brow, reappeared. “Would this tenant expect to remain?”

      Mr Warwick looked uneasy and coughed slightly. “That I cannot say, but he holds a sound lease which does not expire for another five years.”

      “I see. But unless he goes, I cannot hope to sell the property immediately at its full value?”

      Mr Warwick took another sip of wine to cover his hesitation. “Possibly not, Miss Vincent,” he allowed. “But in addition to the property, my client had investments, mostly in the five percents, and some cash in the bank. There were, of course, a few debts to be settled and the valet’s legacy to find, but the residue of the investments and cash together will total around three thousand pounds.

      “Not a great fortune,” he added hurriedly, anticipating Leonora’s disappointment, “but, together with the interest on the investments, the rent Lord Kelsey pays would provide you with a comfortable income should you decide to move into your great-uncle’s apartment. Or you could increase your competence by letting that as well.”

      Leonora was not disappointed. How could someone who had nothing be disappointed to inherit somewhere to live and enough rent and interest on capital to enable her to set herself up in modest style? In grand style for a period, were she prepared to hazard the capital in an attempt to secure a suitable gentleman’s hand in marriage.

      An idea was forming in her mind. At five-and-twenty she might be almost at her last prayers, but women older than herself did wed. And, to be quite honest, she longed for an establishment of her own. An establishment with a nursery and an agreeable husband who might, were she lucky, love her and, in turn, win her love.

      She said, “I should like to see the place before I make up my mind.”

      Mr Warwick nodded. “Very wise.”

      Rosy pictures of her future flew into Leonora’s mind and drifted out again as she forced herself to listen to Mr Warwick’s further information; but he had little more of moment to impart. It was arranged that, when she was ready to visit Bath, he would ask a colleague with chambers in the city to represent her interests.

      She signed some papers, which were witnessed by himself and the footman stationed by the door. He rose, preparing to take his leave, only to be intercepted by Mrs Farling, who, full of curiosity, must have been hovering nearby. She was not prepared to allow her governess’s visitor to depart without being quizzed.

      Her round cheeks flushed, her bosom heaving, “Surely you are not returning to London today, Mr Warwick?” she exclaimed, fluttering her hands and with them the gauze scarf draped about her dimpled elbows.

      Mr Warwick bowed. “No, madam. I shall find accommodation at the nearest hostelry and make the return journey tomorrow.”

      “You would think us poor creatures to allow you to lie overnight at an inn, sir! You must, of course, accept our hospitality!”

      “Indeed, madam, you are most kind. I gladly accept but I must dismiss the post chaise and order it to return in the morning…”

      “Bennett will do that,” said Mrs Farling imperiously. She turned to call out the order to the butler, who appeared in the doorway, bowed and departed on his mission.

      Mr Warwick would be happy to enjoy the comforts of the quite extensive country residence of Thornestone Park instead of lying in a possibly louse-infested inn, Leonora knew. But it meant that she would be called upon once again to add the cachet of her presence at the dinner table. On this occasion, though, she resented less than usual the way her employers used her breeding to add to their own consequence. Mr Warwick was here because of her.

      But the exclamations, the questions, when Mrs Farling discovered the reason for his visit, were almost beyond bearing. Leonora wanted privacy in which to come to terms with her good fortune but was not allowed the privilege.

      Mr Warwick, it transpired, had never had occasion to visit his client in Bath and so had no idea of the exact nature of the residence Leonora had inherited, or of the circumstances and person of the lord who was now her tenant. No amount of questioning or speculation could tell Mrs Farling more than Leonora already knew.

      “I must tender you my notice,” Leonora said. “Perhaps I could plan to move to Bath in two weeks’ time? Would that be convenient to you, Mr Warwick?”

      “Indeed, Miss Vincent, that will give me ample time to arrange for Mr Coggan to place himself at your disposal.”

      “You wish to leave us so soon!” cried Mrs Farling. “How my girls will miss you! Husband, persuade dear Miss Vincent to remain with us until everything is quite settled!”

      Her stout husband, a gentleman who had as little to do with the womenfolk in his household as possible, wiped his greasy lips with his napkin and grunted. “I suggest you allow Miss Vincent to do as she pleases,” he declared.

      The Earl of Kelsey, who seldom made use of the quizzing glass suspended from his elegant buff waistcoat, raised it to study the broad, open face of the young lawyer, not much older than himself, facing him over the office desk.

      “This female now owns the premises?” he enquired, a forbidding frown drawing deep grooves between the straight lines of his dark brows.

      “Indeed, my lord. The late Mr Vincent left her everything, apart from a bequest to his valet. Mr Warwick informs me that Mr Vincent’s fortune was not great, but the lady will be able to live in some comfort on the income from it and the yield from this property.”

      “Hmm.” His lordship’s slate grey eyes became thoughtful. He’d known Vincent was only modestly wealthy, but had never discovered exactly what the fellow had been worth. This lawyer would never tell him. He asked, “How much would this place sell for?”

      “On the open market, my lord? With yourself as a sitting tenant?” On Kelsey’s nod the lawyer, whose name was Coggan, named a figure.

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