Read Online Mr Forster's Fortune by Lizzie Church - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lizzie Church
Ads: Link
an heiress exactly, my lord, no. It is true that she was an only child but her father’s estate was entailed to the male line. It has passed to a distant cousin of hers. She inherited an independence only, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh.’ Lord Barnham’s disappointment was quite evident from his tone. ‘From her mother, I suppose?’
‘Yes. She inherited just six thousand pounds from her mother.’
Mr King eyed his companion narrowly. Like his wife, he had watched the progress of Mr Forster’s interest in his niece with a good deal of alarm.
‘Six thousand, you say?’
‘Yes. Her mother left her just six thousand pounds.’
In reiterating this Mr King was fully aware that although he was being scrupulously truthful about the former Lady Cerney’s bequest – she had, indeed, left six thousand pounds to her only child – he was not being – well, not being totally open with Lord Barnham about it. He was acutely aware that he was holding back on some further information, and just as acutely aware that he could not bring himself to divulge it to him, without some further prompting, at the least. In this, he silently assured himself, he was most certainly acting in the very best interests of his much admired niece. He had the most acute suspicion that the Forsters might be fortune hunters and he did not want to give them any reason to be on the hunt for Cecily.
‘You have a son in the military, I hear, Mr King.’ His lordship had apparently determined on switching the conversation. ‘I, too, have sons in the military. My middle son is currently fighting in the Peninsula. My youngest son is just a volunteer.’
‘I do indeed, my lord. My only son, Alfred – he is a Captain in the Royal Surrey militia. He is intending to visit us here in Bath very shortly. He is most keen to come down.’
Lord Barnham fell silent, and as Mr King had sat the requisite length of time in his bath he finally excused himself from his presence, and clambered into the towel that was awaiting him on the flagstones. He dried himself vigorously and strode off out of view. Had he remained in place just a five minutes longer he would have been treated to an interesting and somewhat curious sight. It was the sight of an elderly, grizzled individual with long, tattered locks and blackened teeth, being assisted out of his sedan chair at the entrance to the bath and staggering his way painfully but determinedly to take a place in the water right at his lordship’s side.
Chapter 13
The concert, held in the tea room of the assembly rooms, could not have been more different from the riotous afternoon in Sydney Place but from Cecily’s point of view it was at least equally as enjoyable. Mr Springfield, whom it appeared that Mr Forster had persuaded to attend with them much against his inclination, obligingly acted as escort to Miss Forster, enabling her brother to give all his attention to her friend. Mr Springfield had been a little quieter of late. Perhaps a cold night spent in company with a somewhat disapproving night watchman – a night which reached its natural conclusion only on the parting of a good deal of kelter on the young gentleman’s part – had been sufficient to settle him down for a while.
To be fair, Mr Springfield’s opinion of the concert was not his alone, for most of the music sounded a little mournful even for Cecily’s taste, being mainly in the minor key, while the bench on which they were perching grew increasingly harder as the evening progressed. But the whispered comments about the music – which Mr Forster appeared to enjoy only marginally more than Cecily did herself – ‘I am not convinced as to which is actually worse, I fear – the musicians or the tunes’ – and the sensation engendered by having him squashed closely to her side, made the severity of the seating a good deal more possible to endure. The tea-time conversation was a further source of delight, with Mr Forster and
‘Oh.’ Lord Barnham’s disappointment was quite evident from his tone. ‘From her mother, I suppose?’
‘Yes. She inherited just six thousand pounds from her mother.’
Mr King eyed his companion narrowly. Like his wife, he had watched the progress of Mr Forster’s interest in his niece with a good deal of alarm.
‘Six thousand, you say?’
‘Yes. Her mother left her just six thousand pounds.’
In reiterating this Mr King was fully aware that although he was being scrupulously truthful about the former Lady Cerney’s bequest – she had, indeed, left six thousand pounds to her only child – he was not being – well, not being totally open with Lord Barnham about it. He was acutely aware that he was holding back on some further information, and just as acutely aware that he could not bring himself to divulge it to him, without some further prompting, at the least. In this, he silently assured himself, he was most certainly acting in the very best interests of his much admired niece. He had the most acute suspicion that the Forsters might be fortune hunters and he did not want to give them any reason to be on the hunt for Cecily.
‘You have a son in the military, I hear, Mr King.’ His lordship had apparently determined on switching the conversation. ‘I, too, have sons in the military. My middle son is currently fighting in the Peninsula. My youngest son is just a volunteer.’
‘I do indeed, my lord. My only son, Alfred – he is a Captain in the Royal Surrey militia. He is intending to visit us here in Bath very shortly. He is most keen to come down.’
Lord Barnham fell silent, and as Mr King had sat the requisite length of time in his bath he finally excused himself from his presence, and clambered into the towel that was awaiting him on the flagstones. He dried himself vigorously and strode off out of view. Had he remained in place just a five minutes longer he would have been treated to an interesting and somewhat curious sight. It was the sight of an elderly, grizzled individual with long, tattered locks and blackened teeth, being assisted out of his sedan chair at the entrance to the bath and staggering his way painfully but determinedly to take a place in the water right at his lordship’s side.
Chapter 13
The concert, held in the tea room of the assembly rooms, could not have been more different from the riotous afternoon in Sydney Place but from Cecily’s point of view it was at least equally as enjoyable. Mr Springfield, whom it appeared that Mr Forster had persuaded to attend with them much against his inclination, obligingly acted as escort to Miss Forster, enabling her brother to give all his attention to her friend. Mr Springfield had been a little quieter of late. Perhaps a cold night spent in company with a somewhat disapproving night watchman – a night which reached its natural conclusion only on the parting of a good deal of kelter on the young gentleman’s part – had been sufficient to settle him down for a while.
To be fair, Mr Springfield’s opinion of the concert was not his alone, for most of the music sounded a little mournful even for Cecily’s taste, being mainly in the minor key, while the bench on which they were perching grew increasingly harder as the evening progressed. But the whispered comments about the music – which Mr Forster appeared to enjoy only marginally more than Cecily did herself – ‘I am not convinced as to which is actually worse, I fear – the musicians or the tunes’ – and the sensation engendered by having him squashed closely to her side, made the severity of the seating a good deal more possible to endure. The tea-time conversation was a further source of delight, with Mr Forster and
Similar Books
