Bea bounced to her feet so abruptly that the easel wobbled. “Excellent! He has come to set a date for the wedding, I imagine.”
“Gently, Beatrice,” her stepmother said. “Pray moderate your actions to move with graceful deportment.”
Lady Esther wiped her brushes without haste, then rose to proceed into the house with the graceful deportment she had tried but failed to instil into her stepdaughter. Bea sighed as she followed, as demurely as she could manage.
The library was in the new part of the house, a large and much ornamented room. Bea was not fond of excessively large rooms, although there was something breathtaking about the gallery on the floor above. Its pillared grandeur was one hundred and eighty feet from end to end, and one could never complain about a room large enough to house a ball. It was reputed to be the largest gallery in the North Riding, outranking Corland’s paltry one hundred and ten feet by a large margin. But then Mama always had to have everything bigger, and had been mortified after the plans for the new wing had been settled to discover that Highwood would not, after all, be larger or have more rooms than Corland. Only the size of the gallery and a more imposing entrance hall outclassed the castle.
Walter looked more serious than usual, and greeted her without so much as a smile. Such treatment always put her on her mettle, so she slipped one arm through his, smiling up at him.
“Why did you not join us on the terrace, Walter, instead of calling us into the stuffy library? There is a most refreshing breeze outside.”
“There is some information to impart to you, Bea,” her father said, and he was not smiling either. That was a worrying sign! “Atherton?” he said, turning to Walter expectantly.
Atherton! That was not his name, yet Papa was always so correct.
Walter said nothing, so Father went on, “Bea, there has been a change in the circumstances of your future husband. It transpires that the earl and countess were married by Mr Nicholson, who was not in fact ordained at the time. That means that their marriage is not valid, and all their children have been rendered illegitimate. This does not materially affect their standing with their friends, naturally, and the earl will continue to treat his sons and daughters exactly as before, but it means that he has no legitimate heir, and Mr Atherton is not Lord Birtwell and cannot now inherit.”
“So he will not be an earl?” Bea said, grasping the important point.
“No, but that need not affect your plans,” Mr Franklyn said. “Lord Rennington and I are of one mind on that, and you need not worry about money, Bea. Your settlement will not be any the worse for this change in Mr Atherton’s circumstances.”
“What about the castle? He will have that, surely?”
“It is entailed, Bea,” Walter said. “Almost everything is entailed. Not Langley Villa, fortunately, so we shall still have a place to live.”
“But you are still your father’s eldest son. He cannot cut you out completely.”
“Lord Rennington has no choice, my dear,” Papa said. “When property is entailed, then, like the title, it can only go to the eldest legitimate son.”
She frowned. “So… Eustace gets it?”
“He is illegitimate, too,” Walter said. “We are all illegitimate, Bea. Father has no legitimate children, no heirs. We are all disinherited. The title and estates will go to Father’s younger brother, Uncle George.”
“And then Bertram,” she cried triumphantly. “Very well, I shall marry Bertram instead.”
It was a blow, of course, for now she would have to begin all over again, but Bertram would do just as well.
“Bea!” her father said, shocked. “Surely you cannot… there is no need… were you only ever interested in Walter for his title, then?”
“Oh no, for he is much better looking than Bertram, but I should very much like to be a countess, Papa. I certainly will not marry a man who is not even a proper son and cannot inherit. I have forty thousand pounds, after all, so I am entitled to marry into the peerage, or at least a baronet. Even Sir Hubert’s wife is Lady Strong, and I want to be a proper lady, too. If Walter cannot do that for me, then I will not marry him. May I go now?”
Papa made no protest, and she made haste out of the room, for she had plans to make. She had a new betrothal to arrange, with Bertram Atherton.
3: Miss Franklyn Pays A Morning Call
‘To Mr Bertram Atherton, Westwick Heights. Sir, My daughter has ended her betrothal to Mr Walter Atherton since he is not now to become an earl. As it appears that you stand in line to inherit, she has decided to marry you instead. Please be assured that it would delight me beyond measure to have you as my son-in-law, but if the prospect appals you, as I fear may be the case, you may need to resort to a priest’s hole. Failing that, I recommend that you leave the country at once, while you still may. New Holland may possibly be far enough away to deter her. Yours in friendship, John Franklyn.’
***
The family was still gathered in Bertram’s library discussing in exhaustive detail the implications of their new circumstances when Carter brought in the letter from Mr Franklyn, so Bertram read it out loud.
“Oh, poor Walter!” Mother cried. “To lose his inheritance and his future bride in the same day — the poor boy!”
“That is hard indeed,” Father said. “But the loss of his inheritance must be the greater loss, I should think. His whole life has been spent in preparation for acceding to his father’s honours and estates, and now all that is snatched away from him and tossed into my unworthy lap. As to his attachment to Miss Franklyn, it never seemed to me to be very great, and it seems hers was no more so. It is the title she wants, it would appear, and so you are to be the man to lead her to the altar, Bertram. I congratulate you, my son. Forty thousand pounds is a very pretty dowry.”
“I shall not be marrying Miss Franklyn, Father, as you know perfectly well,” Bertram said, laughing at his father’s teasing tone.
“What a pity we have no priest’s hole,” Lucas said. “It will have to be New Holland.”
