Captain Ingram's Inheritance

CAPTAIN INGRAM’S INHERITANCE

Carola Dunn

Chapter 1

 “Come in, quick, and close the door.” Dropping her book, Lady Constantia straightened the faded blue Paisley shawl draped over her high-necked nightshift. It was more for propriety than warmth, for the coolness of the night air was pleasant after the heat of the day. “If Mama discovers you in my dressing-room, you will be ejected and I shall be reproached for unseemly behaviour, and I do so want to talk to you, Felix. You have been away nearly a year!”

 “I might manage to come home more often if Mama and Father were not so quick to find cause for reproach.” Her brother moved a vase of sweetpeas and perched on the corner of the dressing table opposite her chaise longue. Tall, broad-shouldered, with golden hair a few shades darker than her own ringlets, he was a handsome figure in his black evening coat and dove-coloured inexpressibles.

 Constantia regarded him with affectionate sympathy. “I suppose Papa raked you over the coals again about working for Mr Rothschild?”

 “He did.”

 “I guessed that must come next when Mama sent me out of the room as soon as you announced that he had rewarded you for an extraordinary service.”

 “Father will persist in calling him a Jew-moneylender, when he is a highly respected banker and on the friendliest terms with Wellington. He provided all the funds to pay the army and subsidize the allies, you know. The Duke told me he holds Nathan Rothschild as responsible for beating Boney as he is himself. I’m proud to have acted as liaison between them, and I’ve enjoyed it, too.”

 “Paris, Vienna, Brussels--all the gayest cities of Europe. I daresay you have enjoyed yourself! But tell me about your reward.”

 “I’ll buy you a silk dressing gown,” he said, regarding her shawl with disfavour, “and how would you like a cashmire one for winter?”

 “Did Mr Rothschild give you so much money? What did you do to earn it?”

 “This is strictly in confidence, Con. Even the parents don’t know this bit.”

 “I shan’t breathe a word.”

 “The moment I learned of the victory at Waterloo, I dashed back to London and informed Mr Rothschild, long before Wellington’s messenger arrived. We went straight to Downing Street to notify the Prime Minister, but he and Castlereagh and Bathurst refused to believe us.”

 She smiled at his indignation. “Disbelieved Lord Roworth, son and heir of the Earl of Westwood? How very undiscerning of them.”

 “Was it not?” he said with a grin. “But as a result, Mr Rothschild made a great deal of money on the Exchange. The percentage he had promised me came to a very pretty sum. Father will be able to pay off the last of the mortgage, and to make me an allowance suited to my station.”

 “Heavens, a pretty sum indeed!”

 “And you and Vickie shall have your Seasons in Town.”

 “No!” Her heart sank.

 “No? When I went up to the schoolroom just now to tell Vickie my news, she informed me that she will be seventeen next month and ready to put up her hair. While I believe her more than capable of trying to mislead me, her governess was present.”

 “Vickie will certainly enjoy a Season, but I am too old to make my come-out,” Constantia protested.

 “To be sure. I’m nine-and-twenty, so you are two-and-twenty, a veritable ape-leader. And an antidote, besides, which is why that callow puppy of a curate never took his languishing gaze off you throughout dinner.”

 “Oh dear, I simply don’t know what to do about Mr Jones.”

 “Let him languish!”

 “Miss Bannister advises me to avoid tête-à-têtes and strolls in the garden, and never to ask after his health, since he is a dreadful hypochondriac and would take it as an expression of interest.”

 “Sound advice, but forget the wretched fellow.” Felix was not to be diverted. “You will enjoy London, Con, the balls and the theatre and concerts, and you will meet gentlemen more proper than a country curate to be your husband.”

 She didn’t want to disappoint him. How was she to tell him that she did not expect ever to marry? He’d demand an explanation, and to her brother, of all people, she could never confide her secret.

 He was looking at her questioningly. He must never guess. She had to find a reason for not going to London, for not seeking a husband, that would satisfy him.

 “Felix, I don’t want to go. I have had offers from eligible gentlemen, you know, even here in the country. Mama has invited friends with suitable sons or nephews. Two or three times I was quite in disgrace for refusing splendid matches, but I could not bring myself to marry a man I did not respect, only for the sake of the family.” And that was true, too.

 He frowned. “You did not care for any of them?”

 “How could I, when they all seemed to believe they were doing me a favour by offering for my hand? Oh, they lavished praise upon my face--and stared at my dowdy gowns with horrified dismay. Mama said I must not regard it, that a daughter of the Earl of Westwood, even portionless, is a fit bride for the highest ranking peer in the land.”

 “So she is, and you, my dear, are a prize beyond compare.”

 She shook her head at him, knowing herself to be his favourite sister, though Augusta, long since wed, was closer in age. Gussie had always been priggish, whereas Constantia had followed her adored brother into many a scrape.

 “You are partial, Felix. I believe you are stunned by the transformation into a decorous young lady of the tomboy who was used--”

 “Gammon! I’m glad you were strong enough, diffident as you are, to hold out against the coxcombs who did not properly appreciate you. But now you’ll have a dowry, everything will be quite different.”

 “I don’t want to be appreciated for my dowry. I don’t want to go,” she insisted.

 “Even if you had my wife to chaperon you instead of Mama?”

 “Your wife!” Constantia sat up straight, forgetting her troubles. “Felix, are you going to marry? Tell me all about her at once!”

 “She’s known as the Goddess to her admirers, of whom she has many, alas.” Felix explained that he had not yet asked for Lady Sophia Gerrold’s hand as he had not seen her since his financial situation had changed.

 As he described Lady Sophia’s fair, graceful beauty, cool dignity, and fastidious sense of propriety, Constantia’s heart sank once more. He did not sound as if he were wildly in love. She was afraid that their parents’ disapproval of his work for Mr Rothschild had hurt him more than she realized, and he had chosen a bride more to please them than himself. Lord and Lady Westwood could not possibly find fault with Lady Sophia Gerrold, daughter of the Marquis of Daventry, as a daughter-in-law.

 “She sounds very like Mama,” she murmured, and sought for something complimentary to say. “I expect she will make a superb countess one day. Who are her other beaux?” She wished she could believe that anyone courted by her handsome brother might choose to wed another.

 “Mostly officers, with the advantage of showy uniforms. However, some may have met their end at Waterloo. Believe me, that’s not how I would wish to overcome my rivals.”

 “Those poor soldiers! I wish I could do something to help them. Did you...did you lose many friends?”

 Sombrely he named several killed and others wounded, members of Wellington’s staff some of whom he had known for years. “And Frank Ingram was blown up by one of his own shells and dashed near kicked the bucket,” he added.

 “Ingram? I remember you mentioned in one of your all too rare letters that you were sharing lodgings with a young couple called Ingram.”

 “Brother and sister, twins, not a couple. He’s an artillery officer, as was their father. Miss Ingram has followed the drum all her life.” He spoke with far more enthusiasm than Lady Sophia had aroused in him. “She’s an admirable person, Connie. Though she has been through the greatest hardships, she keeps a sense of humour, and she is always kind and hospitable. She and Frank adopted the daughter of a fellow officer who was killed in Spain, an adorable little girl. Fanny could not care for her better if she were her own child.”

 “I should like to meet Miss Ingram.”

 “Impossible, I fear. They have no connections and don’t move in the first circles. Indeed, when I brought them to England, Fanny was quite overcome by the grandeur of Miriam and Isaac’s establishment, and the Cohens live in a simple, unpretentious way, you know. That’s where I’ve been since Waterloo, as a matter of fact. I went back to Brussels to fetch them, and then I thought I’d best stay at Nettledene until Fanny felt at home there.”

 Constantia was startled and intrigued. “You brought the Ingrams to England?”

 “Frank needed Miriam’s care. I’ve told you how she saved my shoulder in France with her medical skill.”

 “Yes, of course.” She envied Miriam Cohen the opportunity of nursing a wounded soldier back to health. “And I have wanted to meet Mr and Mrs Cohen this age.”

 “You’re a dear, Con.” He crossed to the chaise longue and gave her a hug. “I’d like nothing better than to make them known to you, but it can’t be done. Mama would flay me alive with her tongue if I introduced my friends to you.”

 He bade her goodnight and took himself off, leaving her with a great deal of food for thought.

 It was all too true that Felix’s friends would never be welcome at Westwood. Though the Cohens lived like country gentry, Miriam’s father was a wealthy merchant, a Cit, and they were Jewish. Felix had met them when he worked for the Treasury. After travelling across France with them, smuggling gold to Wellington in the Peninsula, he had returned a different person, no longer an arrogant boy sulkily resentful of his lot in life. Constantia had long wished to make the acquaintance of the people who had wrought such a change.

 Before that change, he’d never have considered befriending the Ingrams, an obscure artillery officer with no connexions in Society, and his sister who had grown up in the army’s train.

 Yet he spoke of Miss Fanny Ingram with eager admiration. He had returned to Brussels to fetch them to England rather than speed to the bosom of his family with his splendid news--or to Lady Sophia with a proposal of marriage. Constantia was suddenly horridly afraid that her brother was going to marry the wrong woman, just to regain their parents’ esteem.

 Though she had summoned up the resolution to reject the suitors proposed by her mother, Constantia was diffident by nature and had not been brought up to trust her own judgement. She decided the best way to make Felix see his own mind clearly was to encourage him to talk about Fanny Ingram.

 The next morning, she put her plan into effect. Having donned her favourite rose-sprigged morning gown, with the little ruff at the high neck, she went down to the sunny breakfast parlour. Felix was already embarked upon a plateful of kidneys and bacon.

 He looked up with a grin. “It’s my belief the superiority of the British Army is due to the Englishman’s proper appreciation of breakfast. How I suffered in Paris and Vienna with nothing but coffee and a
tartine
to begin the day!”

 “But not in Brussels?” She helped herself at the sideboard to a thin slice of ham, a muffin, and a dish of raspberries, and sat down opposite him.

 “Miss Ingram taught Henriette, the cook-maid at our lodgings, to provide a decent meal.”

 “Miss Ingram sounds like a most practical person.”

 “She has had to be. Foraging for every scrap of food in the Spanish mountains must have been arduous, to say the least, though she makes an amusing tale of it.”

 “Tell me.”

 As Felix talked, prompted by occasional questions, Constantia found her interest in Miss Ingram’s brother growing. He had followed his father into the Horse Artillery as soon as he was old enough. The elder Ingram had been killed in battle while Frank was still a mere ensign, but he had cheerfully shouldered responsibility for his mother and twin sister.

 Their mother had died on the retreat to Corunna.

 “So they had only each other left?” Constantia asked. “They must have come home to England after Corunna. Had they no family here at all?”

 “None on their father’s side. It seems their mother was the daughter of a nobleman, but she was cast off when she ran away with an artilleryman. Frank and Fanny know nothing of her family, not even a name, and if they did they have too much pride to go a-begging.”

 “It sounds like a mystery out of one of Vickie’s favourite Gothic novels. But if they do, after all, have noble connexions, surely they cannot be unacceptable to Mama and Papa.”

 “Unidentified connexions. They are very much aware that such an empty claim would be received with incredulity and contempt. I learned of it quite by accident. They are modest people, Con, not given to fruitless boasting. Fanny doesn’t aspire to enter Society, only to take care of her brother and bring up Anita as best she can.”

 Constantia found herself envying Fanny for having a straightforward goal in life. All she herself had to aim at was to be a good aunt. She did hope Felix wouldn’t marry Lady Sophia and have lots of cool, haughty daughters just like Mama.