Marriage Alliance by Mira Stables

Author:Mira Stables [Stables, Mira]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2018-05-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“FIFTEEN pounds a year?” Fleur looked dazed, pinched and plain in her mourning.

Mr Willets gave the deferential little bob of his head that would have been a bow had he been standing. “That is the figure, ma’am. I was to inform you that this was the amount, together with board and lodging, that he paid his house-keeper, and that your husband could supply the board and lodging. Also that, if you wished to better your position, you knew how to set about it.” He sighed his relief for the ending of his unpleasant duty and became again a human being, kindly and concerned for the girl he had known from childhood. “Believe me, Miss Fleur, I did my utmost to persuade him. I told him that it was unjust. How could you — how could any woman — be certain that she would be blessed with children?”

Even in her stunned disbelief, Fleur found that mildly funny. Mrs Willets, at least, was numbered among the elect. At the last count the Willets progeny had numbered eight, and another ‘blessing’ was imminent.

“He would not listen to reason,” sighed the unhappy little man. “You know what he was like, Miss Fleur, when he took a notion.”

Fleur did. It was hard to believe that all that fierce determination had been stilled, laid to rest in quiet earth only yesterday.

“If he had lived I am convinced that he would have revoked this iniquitous disposition,” continued Mr Willets earnestly. “I had already persuaded him to agree that the capital should devolve upon you on your thirty-fifth birthday, if at that date you were without issue.”

“Thirty-five,” said Fleur thoughtfully. She was seventeen and a half. A whole lifetime away. Had he arrived at that figure by simple multiplication? Or had he reckoned that by then she would be past child bearing? In any case, it was of academic interest only. Save for bequests to servants and the fifteen pounds a year to his grand-daughter, the bulk of his fortune was left in trust for his first-born great-grandson, provided that the names Robert Pennington were bestowed upon the infant at his baptism. There was provision for the upkeep of High Barrows and for the retention of the services of Mr Willets. All other income from the trust was at the free use and discretion of the parents of the said infant until he attained his twenty-fifth birthday, when it would pass into his own control. Robert Pennington had certainly had the last word!

Poor Mr Willets! She spared a thought from her own problems for the poor little man’s obvious misery. He was still fidgeting with his papers, his burden not yet fully discharged. What more could there be?

“There is just one other matter, ma’am,” he said, suddenly remembering her changed status. “These letters.” He brought out a bundle of letters, many of them of some age, though one or two looked fresh and clean. And now he was looking anywhere but straight at her. “In the course of my duties I went through the contents of Mr Pennington’s safe cabinet.

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