Chapter Four
The room was small and crowded. Felix stood, leaving the chairs for the ladies present as any gentleman should.
Archibald did as well, though that was only because Allister had beaten him to the last chair.
Miss Burnham was at the back of the room, seated on a small bench near the fireplace.
And Miss Fortune had been given a prime seat directly facing the solicitor.
Her panicked expression made it evident that she found the position telling, and she likely feared—well-foundedly—that his aunt had done something quite drastic.
Mr. Fitzsimmons cleared his throat, “If it pleases everyone, I will proceed with the particulars of Mrs. Denworthy’s will.”
Everyone murmured their assent and the solicitor began.
“In the name of our Lord, amen. Of sound mind and in full disposition of memory, herein Mrs. Edith Hayton Denworthy, widow of the right honorable Mr. Arthur Denworthy, both of London, has detailed her last requests and the allocation of her assets to those she has left behind.” Mr. Fitzsimmons paused then intoned with all the gravitas of an orator at Cambridge.
“First and foremost, I, Edith Hayton Denworthy, will my soul to the Lord Almighty, our creator, even as my earthly form is committed to the ground.”
Felix grimaced. The finality of that statement plucked at his conscience.
He should have, he thought, found a way to see her more.
But he’d allowed the presence of her stepchildren to dissuade him when she’d been in London and after she’d been banished to Hayton House, his own fear had kept him away.
“Denworthy house, at 37 Grosvenor Square, shall once more be placed in the custody of my eldest stepson, Archibald Jameson Denworthy. As per his father’s request, the home that was to be mine until the time of my death at which point it would have reverted to his care, shall be his.
I give him leave to do with it as he will.
For the upkeep and maintenance of the house, I give him the same degree of consideration he showed me when he banished me to Hayton House without so much as a by your leave, and I bequeath to him a single shilling—just enough to ensure the courts understand that I was well within my right mind and my decision was quite sound.
You were a wretched boy and grew to be a wretched man.
May the Lord have mercy on whatever wealthy woman you set your sights on.
No doubt she will live a miserable and needlessly shortened life at your hands. ”
The uproar was immediate, but Mr. Fitzsimmons shushed them. “Please remain quiet until we have reached the end. There is much more to digest from this.”
When they had quieted again, he resumed.
“To my stepdaughter Amaris Denworthy Ashton, I leave one shilling and my fondest wish that she may develop both a conscience and a more pleasing disposition.” Only silence greeted that, but it was a silence thick with anger and hostility.
“To my youngest stepson, I leave one shilling. Any more would only fund his many vices, which are far too numerous to be listed here.”
Mr. Fitzsimmons then turned to the viscount.
“To my nephew—the son of my sister’s late husband, Felix Graves, Viscount Grimsleigh—and to my companion and caregiver, Miss Caris Fortune—the illegitimate daughter of my late brother—I leave the ownership of Hayton House and the bulk of my fortune barring charitable obligations that have been seen to prior to my passing.
But there are conditions to be met prior to assumption of this bequest.” Mr. Fitzsimmons paused then, and he appeared to be sweating.
“I require that Felix and Caris must wed. If either refuses, both will forfeit their inheritance and it shall, in its entirety, be given to the Foundling Hospital.”
The silence that had reigned was shattered by the screeching of Amaris Densworthy and the bellowing of her brothers. But on the other side of the room, Miss Fortune sat silent and stunned.
After the screeching and subsequent emotional outbursts, Felix rose to his feet. “Miss Fortune, might I have a word with you privately?”
Her face was ashen, and it seemed as though she was on the verge of fainting. Was it the prospect of marrying a stranger or was it something more?
“We will retire to the drawing room,” Mr. Fitzsimmons said and proffered his arm to Miss Burnham who accepted it but cast a questioning look in their direction.
He noted that Miss Fortune offered a slight nod, which was apparently the reassurance her friend required. Then Mr. Fitzsimmons shooed the Denworthys out the door, quite literally. Like he was ridding a walking path of geese or chickens.
“This is all a bit perplexing no doubt,” Felix said, oversimplifying the matter greatly.
She let out a slightly bitter laugh. “That is certainly one way of putting it. Did you know?”
“About the marriage contingency? I was informed only yesterday in a letter that she’d left with Mr. Fitzsimmons to be provided to me upon her death.”
“No,” Miss Fortune said, her expression filled with confusion. “That she’d taken on her brother’s illegitimate child as an employee?”
The words were incredibly bitter, shocked. She spoke them almost as if they were a betrayal. He asked, “You did not know?”
She shook her head. “She gave no hint to me at all. How did she even find me?”
Was it any wonder she appeared shocked and confused?
And if what she said was true, then it was a betrayal.
To withhold such details was truly diabolical.
And now, to place such conditions on any sort of bequest was positively Machiavellian.
“I do not know what my aunt was thinking, and I am quite sorry that you have been taken off guard by these things. But we must address the other matter… her desire for us to marry.”
“I have been poor throughout my life,” she said simply. “I can go on being so.”
“I cannot,” he stated baldly. “If it were only me, then I suppose I could manage. But there are people living on my estates—farmers who have grown too old and sick to actually work the land, servants who have been pensioned off by the family… If I do not pay the death duties on the estate—duties my father left no provisions for and no ready funds either—those people will all be put off the property and I cannot say what will become of them.”
“You can’t actually propose to go through with this insanity? We are strangers to one another!”
“Many people marry without knowing one another. My aunt was obviously quite fond of you. I can only presume that she spoke well of me to you. There are worse things to base a marriage upon,” he reasoned.
“Love? Mutual affection? An actual fondness for one another?”
“Those things are not without possibility. Not being present at the outset does not conclusively eliminate the possibility of their development. And barring that, there is divorce,” he said.
“Presumably, there are laws being introduced in Parliament that would make such an undertaking more easily achievable.”
“I have no connections in society. I’m the bastard daughter of your marital uncle! It would make you an outcast in society.”
“I am already an outcast in society… My father squandered every last shilling in his possession. The entire world knows I have pockets to let. For myself, there are far more reasons to indulge her last wishes than to deny them. Regardless of any intent to go through with it, I think we should indicate to Mr. Fitzsimmons that we mean to do so. It will buy us a small amount of time to discern whether or not we can make a go of this. And it will stop the Dimworthys from breathing down our necks for the interim.”
“Dimworthys?”
“Can you think of a better or more appropriate moniker for them?” he queried.
“No. No, I really cannot,” she conceded. “How long would we have to make a decision?”
“I can assume that Mr. Fitzsimmons, with our tentative agreement, will provide us with the details.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Very well, I give my tentative acceptance of your suggestion to feign compliance for the time being.”
It did not escape him that the relief he felt was far beyond what it ought to have been, and he feared it had little to do with the terms of his aunt’s will.