based on its apparent original size.’
‘Not at all,’ said Jess, who had regarded his aunt’s money as a bonus. He had been more interested in the house in which the bank no longer had any interest. He was surprised that Mr Bowlby had said nothing of these matters when he had indicated his misgivings over the bank’s holding the house deeds. Or was he surprised? He wondered what advantage Mr Bowlby thought that he was gaining by holding on to them. Nor had Bowlby informed him that it was he who had bought his aunt’s lands so that she might pay off the mortgage: that transaction had never been mentioned.
He also thought that Mr Bowlby had supposed him to be a gentleman who knew little of matters financial and therefore might be fobbed off with an incomplete story—which raised, in Jess’s mind, further suspicions as to his motives.
Mr Crane was still speaking. ‘There are some documents for you to sign, Mr Fitzroy, which will, in effect, transfer all her inheritance to you. It will then be your decision whether I continue to act for you as I did for her.’
‘For the moment,’ returned Jess coolly. ‘Until I have made up my mind what I intend to do, you may continue as my solicitor here—for my business in Netherton only. It is only fair to inform you that I have a solicitor in London who will continue to act for me there. Your interests will not conflict with his. My London affairs have nothing to do with Miss Jesmond’s estate.’
Mr Crane nodded. ‘I understand. If they do, then I must ask to be relieved of my responsibilities to you.”
Jess rose, bowed and sat down again.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘let us get down to business. You will be good enough to tell me all the details of the late Miss Jesmond’s estate which are in your possession and not those of Banker Bowlby.’
Mr Crane looked up sharply. Mr Jesmond Fitzroy had spoken coolly to him throughout in a most offhand manner, but he was not sure that his first impression of him as a charmingly lightweight young man was necessarily the true one.
And what had he meant by his last remark about Banker Bowlby?
He did not enquire and Jess said nothing further to make Mr Crane ponder on the true nature of his visitor. He listened quietly to the old solicitor’s exposition of Miss Jesmond’s admittedly muddled affairs, offering no opinions of his own before leaving with mutual expressions of goodwill.
He strolled along the street, familiarising himself with its layout before returning to the inn to collect his gig. After he had driven out of the White Lion’s stable-yard, he found himself behind a chaise which followed the road which led to Jesmond House until it turned off into the drive to Pomfret Hall some half-mile before Jess reached his own gates. He noted idly that Mrs Pomfret had visitors and wondered whether he would meet them at supper.
His main preoccupation was with his morning’s work and in particular with Banker Bowlby and with what Mr Crane had—and had not—told him…
‘Garth! What brings you here? And why did you not inform us that you were coming to visit us? Georgie, pray ring for the housekeeper—she must prepare a room for my brother immediately.’
Sir Garth Manning made no attempt to answer his sister’s questions. He was too busy smiling at Georgie, who was, for once, dressed demurely in Quaker’s grey with a high white linen collar trimmed with lace, as were the cuffs of her long sleeves.
‘Oh, don’t fuss, Caro. I never stand on ceremony, you know that. I always do things on impulse. Much the best way—one never knows what or who one may encounter next. And, to prove my point today, I have found your sister-in-law. I had no notion that she was staying with you—which proves my claim about the unexpected being best. You look charming, dear sister—I may call you dear sister, may I not?’
Georgina, who had never cared overmuch for Sir Garth, would have liked to retort to him with ‘No, you may not,’ but her regrets over her recent encounter with Jesmond Fitzroy had made her a little wary about being needlessly rude to gentlemen.
She simply gave him an enigmatic smile which he took for agreement. ‘Sister it shall be then. I cannot be constantly calling you Mrs Herron, most clumsy.’
‘But accurate,’ Georgie could not help retorting.
‘True, true—but how boring the truth often is, you must agree?’
Georgie could scarcely contradict him. Nothing could be more boring than the truth which Jesmond Fitzroy had served up to her the other day. It seemed that thinking of him had almost brought him to life for Caro exclaimed to her brother, who had sat down beside her and was fanning her gently, ‘Oh, Garth, it is most apropos that you have come. We shall now have not one, but two, handsome and unattached men with whom to entertain Netherton!’
‘Two,’ remarked Sir Garth archly. ‘Pray, who is the other? I am not sure whether or not I am pleased to learn that I have a rival.’
It took Georgie all her powers of restraint not to inform him that he and Mr Fitzroy would make a good pair so far as being obnoxious was concerned. Caro, on the other hand, was only too happy to inform her brother of the new owner of Jesmond House.
‘Plenty of tin, has he?’ enquired Sir Garth negligently.
‘So one supposes,’ she said, ‘but I have not yet met him. He is to sup with us this evening and then you may pass judgement on him. At least he has Miss Jesmond’s inheritance, which cannot be small.’
Sir Garth raised dark eyebrows. He was dark altogether, glossy-haired, with a saturnine hawk-like face, rather like, Georgie thought fancifully, a villain in one of Mrs Radcliffe’s Gothic romances.
‘Perhaps,’ he returned enigmatically. ‘The old lady was light in the attic towards the end, was she not? Sold all that land to pay for bad investments. If you want to hook him for yourself, Caro, be sure that you find out exactly how deep his purse is. Another unfortunate marriage—begging your pardon, dear sister Georgie—would be one too many.’
Caro simpered, ‘Oh, seeing that we have not yet met, are you not being a little forward, brother, in handing him to me for a husband?’
‘My habit, Caro dear, is always to further your interests,’ he assured her. ‘It’s a cruel world we live in. One needs to know one’s way about it. All that glisters is not gold.’
Georgie thought that Sir Garth knew whereof he spoke. She wondered cynically if he had arrived in Netherton to lie low at his sister’s expense—or to recoup himself, perhaps. She did not believe that Netherton was at all the sort of place which he would choose to frequent—unless necessity drove him there.
‘It’s your good luck that I am here to inspect him, my dear. I look forward to the evening.’
So, apparently, did Caro. She arrived in the drawing room where Georgie was looking at an album of the Beauties of Britain while waiting for Mr Fitzroy to arrive. She received the full benefit of Caro’s elaborate toilette.
For once her sister-in-law did not immediately make for the sofa, but instead pirouetted in the centre of the room, waving her fan and looking coyly over the top of it.
‘How do I look, Georgie? Will I do?’
Georgie, inspecting her, had to confess that her sister-in-law had seldom looked more enchanting. Her golden hair, her blue eyes and her pink and white prettiness were undiminished
