Walter groaned. “Now what is afoot? Whatever have I done this time?” His mind ran quickly over his activities of the last few days, but could recall no transgression.
“I couldn’t say, my lord. All I can tell you is that rest of the family is summoned at twelve, but you are to present yourself a quarter of an hour earlier.”
That raised a prickle of alarm. He was to see his father first? Then itwassomething he had done wrong. But what could be serious enough for the whole family to hear? Even that business with Maria had been dealt with privately. “The rest of the family? Everyone?”
“Everyone, my lord. Lady Rennington, the Lady Alice and Miss Nicholson, Mr Eustace, Mr Kent and the Lady Olivia.”
“That truly is everybody.”
“And also Mr George, Mrs George, Mr Bertram and Mr Lucas.”
“Even the Westwick family. Then it must be about Nicholson. They must know who killed him.” But why was he summoned first?
“Perhaps, my lord. It is clearly a serious matter, so I took the liberty of waking you in good time to dress. You will wish to honour your father by arriving on time and looking your best.”
Walter was indifferent to looking his best, whether it honoured his father or not, but he would certainly not want to be late, so he submitted to Rashleigh’s ministrations with a good grace. He knew how long it took him to dress in the morning and it was as well not to rush the business.
He arrived in the library some ten minutes ahead of the appointed time, to find the study door wide open and his father, pocket watch in hand, awaiting him.
“I beg your pardon, Father, am I late?”
“No, no, not at all. You are early, in fact, but that is all to the good. The more time we have before the others get here, the better. Come inside.”
If the unusual nature of the summons had not alarmed him, his father’s breathless, almost nervous, manner would have done it. “Whatever has happened?” Walter said. “It must be something dreadful, I am sure. I have never seen you so agitated.”
His father drew him inside and closed the door. “Dreadful, indeed. I can barely speak of it, but it must be done. It cannot be shirked.” But immediately he lapsed into silence again.
“Is it to do with Nicholson’s death?”
“No… well, yes, in a way… but not precisely so.” He passed a hand across his brow. “Dear Lord, I am making no sense at all. Pour me a glass of something, will you, Birtwell… Walter.”
That was the moment Walter knew he was in serious trouble, for his father never called him by his Christian name unless he was excessively upset with him. Ever since Grandfather had died, Walter had been‘Birtwell’to everyone in his family. Only a few of his oldest friends still called him Walter. But he poured claret for his father, and another glass for himself, for he was sure to need it, and waited.
“It is Nicholson’s fault, that is the problem,” the earl said, then paused to fortify himself, downing half the claret at a single swallow. “You see—” He stopped again, then drained the glass, set it down and laced his fingers together. Then he went on in a low, trembling voice. “Nicholson was not ordained, therefore my marriage is invalid, therefore you… all of you are illegitimate.”
Walter could not catch his breath. He felt as if he had been pushed off a cliff and now he was falling, falling and who could tell when he would hit the ground?Illegitimate?Then—
“I cannot inherit.”
“No, and there is nothing that can be done about it. Dear God, if only there were! If only this could all be set right, but it cannot! I have been to the Archbishop at York, and he has been checking for me, to see if Nicholson had been ordained anywhere else, but an express arrived late last night confirming that he has never been ordained. I thought… hoped, perhaps, that he had remedied the situation later, so that Izzy’s marriage might be safe, but—”
“Izzy! Nicholson married her, too.”
“Precisely. Not Josie, luckily, for that would have been dreadful if those two little boys had been disinherited as well, but Izzy’s daughters — well, it is not so bad for girls. A pretty girl with a good dowry will always be able to marry well… or well enough, anyway. But you! I cannot tell you how much it grieves me.”
“So if I cannot inherit… none of us, not Eustace or Kent, either, then… Uncle George?” Walter’s voice sounded distant to his ears, as if he were under water.
The earl nodded. “He is my heir presumptive now, and then Bertram after him, and of course virtually everything is entailed. At least Eustace has his own estate and a very pretty little independence, but I do not know what is to become of Kent, truly I do not.”
“And Olivia. What of her season next year?”
“That is not to be thought of now, but she is young, still. She will find a husband in her own time. Birtwell… Walter… Miss Franklyn must be told about this change of circumstances. She will be disappointed, naturally, for I think she looked forward to being Lady Birtwell and later Lady Rennington, but it need not prevent the marriage. Her fortune is sufficient to enable you to live as a gentleman, and naturally I shall continue your allowance while you are getting settled. Langley Villa is not entailed, so you will still have that. I shall make it over to you entirely, so there is no uncertainty. You may marry as soon as you please. It is the one consolation I have, that you will not have to look for employment, or live under my roof for evermore. You will be very comfortable, I believe.”
“Do you think I should cry off?”
“And break Miss Franklyn’s heart? No, indeed. She is not marrying you for the title, Walter, not a fine, handsome young man like you, and anyone can see how strongly attached to you she is. She followed you about like a puppy for years.”
“Franklyn may cut up rough.”
