The Third Heiress by Brenda Joyce

Author:Brenda Joyce [JOYCE, BRENDA]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781429905916
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2010-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

Apparently the name Preston was hardly unknown. Although it took twenty-five minutes to get from the hospital’s front doors into one of the hospital administrators’ offices, the moment they stepped inside, a gentleman in a suit came forward, hand extended, greeting Alex warmly.

“Mr. Preston, this is a pleasure. I do believe we met once briefly before, at a fund-raiser your uncle held in London for the hospital’s research program.” The administrator’s name was George Wharton. The name plaque outside of his office said so.

Alex shook hands and introduced Jill. “Fortunately, I have a good memory,” he said. “I attend quite a few charity events, but I do recall this one, a black tie at the Connaught.”

“Your family has always been a huge supporter of this hospital. Anything I can do for you, shall be a pleasure,” Wharton said, smiling.

Jill thought it was mildly interesting that the only hospital in York that had existed a century ago was supported by the Collinsworth family. On the other hand, it was the city’s largest hospital, so she wasn’t about to make too much of it.

Alex explained their predicament—that they were hoping to locate records from 1908.

“You are fortunate once again. We have extensive files, downstairs in the basement. I’ll have someone show you down, and you can browse as you wish.” Wharton did laugh nervously. “Being as the patient whose records you are looking for is long since dead, I don’t have to worry about violating anyone’s rights. In fact, I’ll show you down myself.”

They left the office, taking the elevator to the basement, Wharton and Alex chatting about the hospital’s research into children’s leukemia. As they stepped out into spotless corridor, Jill said, “Dr. Wharton, has the Sheldon family always supported this hospital so extensively?”

“It’s a family tradition and the earl would be the first to tell you so,” Wharton said, leading them to a stainless-steel door that was not locked. He pushed it open, revealing a cavernous basement that was filled with row upon row of wall-sized file cabinets. “His father was the one who first took a serious interest in us, contributing generously to our cause and actually lifting the hospital out of near bankruptcy. Back then, it was strictly an oversized maternity ward.” He smiled at Jill.

Jill managed a smile back, Alex thanked him again, and Wharton left.

“This is odd,” Jill blurted. “Edward was the one who started the family tradition of supporting this hospital? Edward?”

“Jill, my family is involved in dozens of philanthropic projects. Our work is cut out for us. Let’s get started.”

Jill quickly walked over to the first row of cabinets. “These are alphabetized—but there are years listed on here, too,” she said, staring at files labeled Williams—Woolverton, 1980—1995.

An hour later they found something. Alex had extracted a very old folder from a file cabinet and he said, “Bull’s-eye. Here is a patient named Katherine Gallagher, Jill. She was admitted May 9, 1908.” He paged through the contents and extended a birth certificate toward her. “Peter Gallagher, born May 10, father unknown, mother Katherine Adeline Gallagher.

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