The Heiresses (12 page)

Ro threw her an exasperated look and Thalia continued. “He was an old man and Haggis McTavish just looked so
bored
. I knew exactly how he felt, so I stopped and bought him.”

“And this man simply … handed him over?”

“Well, there was a
little
bargaining.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ro said with a sigh. “Whose car is it really? Please tell me you haven’t stolen it.”

Thalia paused to smile winningly at two young men passing by.

“Lovely motor!” one of them called out, and Thalia waved one leather-driving-gloved hand back.

“Thalia!” Ro directed her attention back. “The car. Whose is it?”

Thalia turned back, crossly. “Mine, I told you. It’s not only you with rich relatives, you know. I have my … ways.”

“I’m sure you do.” Ro’s eyebrows raised. “But a car … I can’t imagine how much … or how you…” She glanced around her, at the smart, unmarked leather and the wide, empty backseat. And then Haggis McTavish licked her hand, and her eyes moved to look at him and the packet of cigarettes on the seat once more. “I’m not sure what Hestia will say about smoking…”

Thalia simply laughed. “Oh, sweetie. She will probably congratulate me!”

*   *   *

As Thalia and Ro made their way inside the town house, Ro reported all that Vincent had told her, though she still seemed uneasy about the motorcar. “Well, well, well,” Thalia said as she removed her royal blue felt cloche from her head (also new, and which she felt was really rather fetching, as it set off her eyes nicely). She patted her hair into place once more as she spoke, more than pleased with how things were turning out. Ro seemed quite capable of gathering information and, gauging by what she had learned today from both Hestia and this doctor at the university, they were sure to have enough information to be of use to them in some way or another soon. She turned to face her sister. “So, Clio isn’t such a ‘cuckoo’ after all. I’d say we know more than Charles.”

In front of her, Ro held her breath, looking worried about what Thalia might say next. “We may well know more than anybody,” Ro said. “More than Hestia. Maybe even more than our mother did. And that is the important thing to remember—we share a mother. Please do not forget that, Thalia.”

Thalia paused, considering her sister’s words. “Perhaps this is why we were shipped out to all the distant relatives? Because of Clio? Because our father knew?”

Ro seemed to think about this for a moment before replying. “It’s a possibility. It’s difficult to say. Certainly, I never knew something like this was possible, but he may have suspected. Especially if he had an idea of who her father might be.”

“Exactly what I was thinking—he may have guessed when he saw her. She does have very … distinctive looks. Still, how can we be 100 percent sure? Even if it is biologically possible, as you say, for Clio to be one of us, how do we know that it was Clio herself who was that third baby?”

“We don’t. Except”—Ro held up one finger—“Hestia said herself that she saw all three babies born. Perhaps she noticed a difference in Clio’s looks as well? I must remember to ask her. Oh, and there are the hearts, of course.” Ro’s voice was strained.

Thalia missed nothing. “Do stop fretting. I’m not going to run off telling tales to Charles.”

“Well, good,” Ro said, looking relieved.

Thalia frowned slightly. “Do you know where Hestia is, by the way?”

“The last I heard, she had—”

“A meeting to go to,” Thalia cut in, with a sigh. It seemed to be all Hestia ever did—meeting after meeting. She was certainly on quite the mission to claim her father’s seat in the House of Lords. Thalia wondered if she actually knew what she would do with it if she ever obtained it, or even if she had thought that far ahead. It seemed to be all about fighting the good fight with Hestia—with both her father’s seat and her sister’s dowry. Thalia doubted she would be happy if she achieved both of her objectives and had nothing left to squabble about. Thinking of her aunt, Thalia reached out and caught Ro’s arm. “You know, I don’t think we should tell Hestia about this. Not right away.” The truth was, Thalia still didn’t entirely trust her aunt and wanted to spend some time working out exactly what she did, and didn’t, know. This was something she was particularly good at. It would be interesting to drop little pieces of information here and there to see which ones made her squirm. She gave Ro’s arm a pat as she released it. “Anyway, darling, I must be off once more.”

“What? Where are you going?” Ro seemed surprised that Thalia was heading out so soon after returning to the town house, but, for Thalia, it was more of a surprise that she was here at all, now that she had a motorcar of her very own. She had only come back to drop off some of the money she had purloined from her “relative.” (She was very glad Ro hadn’t questioned her too closely about this yet. Of course, she could have made up some fabulous, intricate lie if she had had to, but it was always nicer not to bother, if it was possible.)

Thalia gave her sister a saucy grin. “Where am I going? I’ll tell you where I’m going—I’ve been invited to a party this evening!” She grabbed her coat once more. “And I’m planning on having a
very
good time.”

*   *   *

In the middle of the night, Ro woke to the sound of a whispering voice in her bedroom. “Pssst … Thalia!” it called out. “Thalia?”

In a dreamy daze, Ro pushed herself up in bed. “What?” she replied croakily.

There was a pause, then, “Thank God it’s you. I should have counted the doors on the way to the loo. For a moment there I thought I’d crept into your aunt’s room by mistake.” The voice came closer now. “I won’t be needing this anymore,” the person continued, and Ro heard something drop to the floor.

Waking up a little more, Ro realized the voice was, in fact, a male voice. She started and gripped her bedclothes around her. “Who’s there?” She spoke louder now, her heart beginning to beat faster as she stared at the faint outline of the body approaching her. “Who are you?”

In the middle of the room, the figure stopped dead. “Oh, Christ. You’re not Thalia, are you? Listen, don’t turn on the—”

Too late. Ro reached over and switched on her bedside lamp.

And there, illuminated in the center of the room, stood a young man with dark, tousled hair. A completely and utterly naked young man with dark, tousled hair. Ro’s head told her to scream, but instead her mouth dropped open and, for a moment, the pair simply stared at one another. Then, when they had both recovered from the shock of the suddenly lit room, at exactly the same point in time, the young man scrambled for the towel he had dropped upon the floor just seconds ago and Ro found some words. “Oh my goodness,” she said. Still sitting in her bed, the blankets clutched around her, she began to laugh, from the shock (what was Thalia thinking?) of seeing a naked male form that wasn’t fashioned from marble, and from the absurdity of the entire situation.

“I don’t see what’s so funny…,” he said, rather churlishly, as he busily wrapped the towel he had discarded around himself.

As for Ro, she rose from bed now and, avoiding his gaze, crossed the room, clearing her throat as she went. “This way,” she said as she opened the door, then walked two doors down the corridor and turned the doorknob without knocking. “I think you lost something,” she called out, into the depths of Thalia’s bedroom. And she was just about to turn and gesture for the young man to make his way inside, when Hestia’s voice boomed down the corridor.

“Girls! What on earth is going on here?”

*   *   *

The following morning, Clio paused outside the town house door, wondering whether to ring the doorbell, or to use the key Hestia had given her. She decided that she should probably use the key, having been entrusted with one, but then wavered again about entering, knowing there would be questions about her mother’s health, which she did not feel like answering right now.

Before Clio had left, Hestia had cornered her and pressed money upon her, insisting she must have at least enough to return home and come back again. To start with, Clio had refused any more than this, knowing full well her mother would be too proud to accept her aunt’s charity. However, in the end, Clio had pushed aside these concerns to ask her aunt for just a little more so that she might take her mother to see a more specialized doctor, in Oxford.

Hestia had been more than willing to give her the money and had even telephoned the doctor herself, using her name and connections to convince the doctor that he must call upon their house to visit Clio’s mother the following day. Clio had been shocked that such a thing was even possible. She had expected that her mother would have to wait months to gain an appointment to see this much-respected doctor and here he was readily offering to drive to their very village the following day. Simply because Hestia had said he should! “You know you need only ask,” Hestia had said as she kissed her cheek and waved her good-bye.

The doctor had paid his visit to Clio’s mother the following afternoon. The news was not good. It was obvious that her mother’s bronchitis was getting worse, her lungs were deteriorating steadily, and it seemed the only thing that might help her now was a move to a warmer, damp-free climate, such as Africa or Australia. The doctor had said this all quite matter-of-factly, as if all of his patients had the money to simply up and move to wherever they pleased at a moment’s notice. Which, Clio knew, they probably did, considering his clients mostly consisted of people like her aunt. As she saw him out to their front gate, he had told her something else as well, out of her mother’s hearing: if such a move was not made, her mother would most likely be dead within a year or two at best.

Now, taking a deep breath, Clio squared her shoulders and entered number 32, using her key without hesitation. This was why she had come back. For her mother. She must do what she needed to do. A move to Africa, or Australia, might not be possible, but even a small amount of money from Charles might mean she could remove her mother from the damp cottage she was living in.

“Hello?” Clio called out, after she had fully opened the door. She stood just inside the hall and placed her small case on the floor. “Hello?”

A groan came from the direction of the dining room before someone (Hestia, as it turned out) appeared. “Oh, Clio, there you are. I thought you should be arriving soon. Why don’t you leave your things and come have something to eat. I know it’s a little late for breakfast, but we are having a discussion of sorts.” With this, she retreated out of sight once more.

“I’m coming!” Clio replied, making her way up the hall. When she entered the dining room, with its clean lines and glossy wooden furniture, she was surprised to find Thalia in her dressing gown, a piece of untouched toast before her, decidedly the worse for wear. On the opposite side of the table sat a very normal-looking Ro.

“Hello!” Ro said, with a smile, spying her. As for Thalia, she only made a noise again—a similar groan to the one Clio had heard from the hall. “A party,” Ro told Clio, by way of explanation.

“I see,” Clio replied. Her eyes moved beyond Thalia’s discarded toast, to where a number of items lay strewn across the center of the table. It took her some time to work out what the items were. But when she did, she blushed furiously. “Oh!” she said, not being able to help herself.

“There was an incident last night,” Ro said, in an even voice. “Thalia had a … friend over to stay.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, don’t be such a baby.” Thalia removed her head from her hands to look up at Ro.

Ro simply shrugged. “At least I won’t be
having
a baby.”

As Clio stood quite, quite still, surveying the items on the table (what would her father have said?!), Hestia let out a long, weary sigh. It sounded as if they had been battling this out for a while. “None of us needs to be having a baby, thanks to the modern contraceptive products upon the table here. I’ll have you know that Margaret Sanger is a good friend of mine and thanks to her, and other enlightened women campaigners, we have many items here from which to choose.” Hestia, standing behind Thalia, reached forward to touch each item as she spoke. “We have Lysol douche, cervical caps, diaphragms with diaphragm introducers, and…”

“Oh, Hestia,” Thalia groaned again. “Please, don’t.”

“My dear, this is nothing to entertain silly girlish notions about. I certainly don’t wish to live in a world where women feel they must induce abortions and then die of septicemia because of an unwanted child, rather than simply preventing conception in the first place. And don’t think you need a man to take care of these things, for even if you find a decent one he is likely to take care of one thing only—his own pleasure.”

Thalia groaned a louder groan.

“Yes, anyway … I will place all these items in the upstairs bathroom, so you need not ask me for them, but will know where they are,” Hestia continued in a businesslike manner.

“Thank you, Hestia,” Ro replied for all of them, as Hestia scooped up the items and left the room. Then Ro laughed as she caught Clio’s expression. “You look as if you’d like to die!”

“
I’d
like to die,” Thalia piped up. She propped her head onto one hand and looked up at Clio. “So, you decided to come back?”

Clio frowned. “But of course. We did agree to work together…”

“I think what Thalia means is, how is your mother?” Ro asked.

“Quite well this morning, thank you,” Clio responded. It was the truth. Clio had been quite heartened on seeing her mother this morning, after spending half the night tossing and turning, prepared to see her much worse for not having already moved her to sunnier climes. Perhaps her mother was putting on a good show because it was she who had coerced Clio into returning to the city, concerned with her waning health and that Clio would not have enough money to live on after her eventual demise. Clio had not wanted to hear any of this kind of talk, of course, but still yearned for money in the hope of improving her mother’s condition.

“Excellent,” Ro said, with a decided nod. “Now, you had better sit down. We have news for you. As it turns out, I have discovered that we may be sisters after all…”