Chapter 1
Miss Eliza Fairleigh sat with her hands tight in her lap, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
The room was unfamiliar and forbidding, all dark panelling and the hush of a place where grave matters were settled, and she was certain she did not belong in it.
She could feel herself watched, a disinclination in the very air that she could not account for and did not know how to ease.
"Eliza, be at peace."
Glancing up at her aunt, Eliza licked her lips and did her best to settle her hands in her lap, knowing she had been twisting her fingers over and over again.
A little over a sennight ago, at the very beginning of her arrival in London, she had received a summons to attend a meeting at Braithwaite Solicitors.
That had been strange enough; but to have been subsequently informed that the matter concerned the will of the late Lady Susanna Warrington had been all the more perplexing.
Lady Warrington had been known to Eliza, yes, but she had never been more than an acquaintance — if she could be called even that!
They had been introduced some years ago, before Eliza had made her debut, and since that time, Eliza had only ever seen the lady in passing.
"I am sure there must be some mistake, Aunt," she whispered, as Lady Newark frowned. "They will soon realize that it is not I who ought to have been summoned, but some other Elizabeth. What mortification that will be!"
Her fingers found the seam of her glove and traced it, thumbnail pressing into the stitching, a thin ridge of thread that was the only solid thing in the room.
She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself against the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her.
These last few days had been a torment as she had worried over this meeting, had convinced herself that it had all been some grave mistake and that she would soon be the talk of London — but for all the wrong reasons.
She had thought, somehow, that she would be alone — she and her aunt, and the solicitor.
She was not. Two gentlemen were already seated when she was shown in, and from the cut of their coats and the ease with which they occupied the room, she understood at once that they belonged here in a way she did not.
She knew neither of them. But she could see, in the way they looked at her, that her presence was no more comprehensible to them than it was to her — and a good deal less welcome.
Lady Newark leaned slightly toward her and lowered her voice. "You are doing just as you have been instructed. To have stayed away from this would have been most unwise."
Eliza swallowed at the tightness in her throat and made herself look.
The elder of the two — though he was not so very old, she saw on a second glance; it was only the severity of his expression that aged him — was frowning in her direction, his gaze sharp and measuring, as if he had been weighing her since she sat down.
The younger man beside him leaned to murmur something, and she could read in the tilt of his head, the way his eyes flicked to her and then away, that the murmur concerned her.
She looked back down at her hands. She did not need to be told what they thought of her presence here.
She could feel it pressing at her from across the room.
Mr. Arthur Braithwaite settled himself behind his desk and drew a single sheet from the top of his papers.
"Thank you for coming so promptly, Miss Fairleigh.
" His half-moon spectacles glinted as he looked from her to the gentlemen and back.
"I have asked Lord Ashcombe and his brother to attend, as the matter I am to lay before you touches upon their family — and Lady Warrington's wishes were quite particular that it be heard by all whom it concerns. "
Eliza drew her reticule against her stomach and held it there with both hands, and prayed that he would soon bring an end to her torment — either by clarifying what it was that required her presence or by making it clear that there had been some sort of error.
Reaching over, Lady Newark set her hand on top of Eliza's tightly fisted hands, offering her both quiet support and a gentle reminder to hide her worries as best she could. Drawing in a deep breath, Eliza closed her eyes and then released it slowly, pushing out some of her tension with it.
The solicitor settled the single sheet before him and turned, at last, fully towards her. "Lady Warrington's instructions to me were particular," he continued, in a somewhat dry tone. "I shall come directly to the matter that concerns you, Miss Fairleigh."
Eliza blinked. She had almost convinced herself that her presence here had been an accident, an error on the solicitor's part. Could it be that Lady Warrington had requested her presence purposefully?
"Lady Warrington has bequeathed to you an inheritance, namely, the sum of — "
Eliza did not even hear the amount, for the younger of the two gentlemen was on his feet before the solicitor could finish.
"She is no relation to Lady Warrington!" The words cracked across the room, and Eliza gripped her aunt's hand, confused and overwhelmed. "Why should she be given such a substantial amount?"
"James." The elder said it low, a single word of warning — but the younger would not be checked.
"I know our great-aunt was wealthy indeed, but that is a good deal of money for a young lady such as she.
" His glance raked over her, and heat began to flood Eliza's cheeks.
"Her father is near a pauper, is he not?
Why waste such coin upon a family who cannot look after their own fortune with any sort of care? "
Eliza closed her eyes, blood roaring in her ears. For a breathless instant, she wondered if there had been another dreadful mistake, that there was another Eliza Fairleigh who ought to be sitting here instead of her.
But then her aunt squeezed her hand and leaned in towards her, the warmth of her breath on Eliza's cheek bringing her back to the present.
"Are you quite all right?"
With a nod, Eliza lifted her head and opened her eyes, forcing herself to look across the room.
Two faces, where she had hoped for none — the elder grave and unreadable, the younger flushed with an indignation he made no effort to hide.
The silence between them was thick with displeasure, and it pressed at her: the narrowed eyes, the set mouths, the air thinning with each passing moment.
She could hardly bear it.
The solicitor cleared his throat. "An inheritance of ten thousand pounds to go to Miss Eliza Fairleigh," he said, seeming to be aware that Eliza had not heard him the first time. "And that with — "
"There must be something we can do." The younger gentleman threw out one hand towards the solicitor as if he, somehow, were responsible for Lady Warrington's directives.
"There must be some way we can contest this.
I will not allow my great-aunt's fortune to be so divided.
" Eliza turned her head towards her aunt, whispering that she could not bear this any longer.
"Miss Fairleigh is no relation to Lady Warrington, from what we can see, and thus — "
"If you will excuse us."
With deliberate slowness, Eliza's aunt rose from her chair and stood tall, turning the full weight of her gaze upon the two gentlemen.
The younger man paused, his speech broken apart by Lady Newark's sharp interruption.
After a moment, and with poor grace, he returned to his seat, and Lady Newark, reaching out one hand to Eliza, drew her up beside her.
"As you can imagine, this is a great shock to Eliza and to myself," she said, with great dignity.
"I believe her part is completed and thus, we shall take our leave.
" She let her gaze rest upon each of the gentlemen in turn as Eliza kept her head bowed, her face still hot with the embarrassment and confusion of it all.
"You are astonished, which I can well understand.
But pray, bear in mind that my dear Eliza is all the more confused and that speaking of either herself or her family in a manner that is unkind or even cruel is not at all welcomed. It only adds to our trouble."
"There is only one thing more, but that can be spoken of in private, Lady Newark." The solicitor offered Eliza a small, sympathetic smile, which she accepted with a tiny nod, wanting nothing more than to escape the room and everyone in it. "If you step outside, I will join you shortly."
Eliza, feeling her movements stiff and ungainly, followed after her aunt and left the room, refusing to allow her gaze to lift even a little. To her very great relief, the corridor was mercifully quiet, encouraging her forward as the door closed behind her.
Even through the closed door, she caught the younger gentleman's voice taking up again, sharp and aggrieved, and she paused, her head turning back toward it, aware that she was the cause of all this upset.
"It is not your fault, Eliza." As if she knew what Eliza was thinking, her aunt came towards her again, frowning hard. "Come now, step away from all of this. It will do you no good to stand and hear their complaints."
Eliza nodded, her legs trembling as she began to walk again, fearful that all strength might leave her and she would collapse completely. Another solicitor stepped out and, after a few words with her aunt, directed them to a room at the end of the corridor, far away from the room with the will.
Sitting down heavily in a comfortable chair, Eliza willed her breathing to slow as confusion tangled with a sudden rush of hope.
That amount of money as her own inheritance would surely set her apart from the other debutantes, would it not?
It might allow the gentlemen of London to see her as she truly was, not merely as a young lady of near insignificance.
"Take a few moments, my dear." Having finished with the solicitor, Lady Newark sat down opposite her, offering a small smile which did nothing to quieten Eliza's frantic thoughts. "That was most astonishing, I must say. A good deal for you to take in, I know."
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
"The tea, my lady." A lady stepped in, someone unbeknownst to Eliza, and the cup pressed into her hands was warm and steadying against her cold fingers. Grateful, she took a sip and almost burned her tongue with it.
"Be calm, Eliza." It was more of an instruction than a request, Lady Newark watching her with careful eyes. "Despite what others might think, you have been given a great and wonderful gift! I am sure that — "
"Forgive me for the delay." Mr. Braithwaite hurried into the room, interrupting her aunt and bowing hastily toward them both. "It took me a little longer than I had anticipated to extract myself."
He turned then to the door of a small private room and held it open with a solicitor's practiced courtesy. "If you would step inside, Lady Newark. Miss Fairleigh. There is one final matter that I was instructed to explain to you both in private."
The room was narrow and plain — a writing desk, two chairs, a window that looked out on a blank wall. Lady Newark sat first. Eliza lowered herself into the other chair and folded her hands in her lap, pressing her fingers together to stop them shaking.
Mr. Braithwaite closed the door and remained standing.
"The inheritance is contingent, Miss Fairleigh," he said, without preamble.
"Lady Warrington was quite specific on this point.
Before the funds are released to you, you must establish — to my satisfaction and in accordance with a sealed letter in my keeping — the nature of the connection between yourself and Lady Warrington. The reason she chose you."
Eliza heard the words, but they arrived at a distance, as if spoken through glass. She looked at her aunt. Lady Newark's expression had not changed, but her gloved hand had moved to the arm of her chair and was gripping it.
"You are telling us," Lady Newark said, her voice level, "that the inheritance exists but cannot be claimed until Eliza can name the reason for it."
"Precisely so, madam."
"And if she cannot?"
"Then the sum reverts to the estate." Mr. Braithwaite's tone was not unkind but neither did it soften.
"There is a period of three months. And Lady Warrington was equally particular on one further point: Miss Fairleigh is granted a single opportunity to satisfy the condition.
She may present her answer to me once, and once only. "
Eliza's comprehension arrived not all at once but in stages, each one heavier than the last. The gift was real.
The gift was conditional. She was required to name a connection she could not name, to a woman she had met perhaps twice in her life, for reasons that had never been explained to her.
Even this unexpected grace came with a requirement she had no idea how to fulfill.
She pressed her reticule against her stomach and held it there.
"I thank you, Mr. Braithwaite," Lady Newark said, rising. "We shall take our leave."
Eliza stood when her aunt stood and walked when her aunt walked.
The condition sat on her shoulders alongside the shock, a second weight laid upon the first, and neither showed any sign of lifting.
She walked as if her feet were on unfamiliar, unsteady ground, clutching her reticule as if it might anchor her.
"Into the carriage, my dear."
Eliza climbed inside, sinking into the seat and leaning her head back against the squabs.
"I will not speak of all that has taken place," her aunt said gently, as the carriage rolled forward toward home. "You need some time to think of it all, I believe — to make some sense of it. You need not start your search for understanding at this very moment."
With a nod, Eliza turned to look out of the window, her reflection wavering in the glass. Behind her silence, questions gathered like a storm, threatening to overwhelm her — and to tear apart every certainty she had ever held.