The Heiresses

by Allison Rushby

  “The image of him? In what way?” Thalia said needlessly, though her words didn’t surprise Ro at all.

  Hestia did not grace this comment with a reply. After a few more minutes, she rose with a sigh. “I have a short meeting to attend,” she said, striding over to the other side of the room and gathering a few bits and pieces. “I won’t be long. When I return, it will be time to make our way to our meeting with Charles.”

  “But…” Clio glanced at the clock on the wall. The day was already wearing on. If they were to meet this Charles later on, there would be no hope of her returning home today.

  “Yes?” Hestia turned her full attention to Clio.

  Clio bit her lip and seemingly considered her options for a moment or two. “Nothing. It’s all right,” she finally replied.

  “I know you’re anxious to get started on this journey,” Hestia’s gaze rested on all three of the girls in turn. “But we must tread carefully and bide our time.”

  Ro watched as Clio turned her gaze to rest on the pattern of the parquetry floor. She guessed that she was willing her tears back and stretched out a sisterly hand to clasp one of Clio’s for a moment. When she pulled back again and scanned the room, her aunt was gone. Only the three girls remained.

  After a moment or two of silence, Thalia became animated. Turning, she ran to the window, standing beside the curtains in order to be able to see, but not be seen. When she had spied what she was looking for (Hestia’s retreating presence, Ro guessed), she swiveled once more, looked at both Ro and Clio, and clapped her hands. “And now,” she said, “for some fun!” She ran straight over to the gramophone and began rifling through the gramophone records lying beside it. “Hopefully…,” she said as she kept rifling, “they’re not all political speeches, Gregorian chanting, or similar. Here we are! Perfect!” She lifted one record high into the air and waved it about.

  “Thalia! Be careful!” Clio said.

  Thalia simply waved a hand at Clio while she busied herself readying the gramophone, finally placing the record carefully onto the player and gently lifting the stylus. “Ready?”

  Ro and Clio glanced at one another, both thinking the same thing, which ran along the lines of “probably not.”

  There was a crackle and music rang out through the room. Thalia raced once more—this time over to the piano. Sliding sideways onto the bench seat, she flung open the lid with a bang. Not wasting any time, her fingers flew straight to the correct keys and began to play as she sang along in a well-practiced, even voice with the record. “Five foot two, eyes of blue, but oh! what those five foot could do! Has anybody seen my gal?”

  Ro couldn’t help herself. She laughed out loud.

  “Come on then, next verse!” Thalia called out over the music.

  Ro glanced at Clio with a grin, then opened her mouth and joined in. “Turned up nose, turned down hose. Flapper, yes sir, one of those. Has anybody seen my gal?”

  Thalia abandoned the piano at this point and made her way back over to the other two girls. “Care to foxtrot?” She held out her hand to Ro. “I’m sure you’re used to leading after all those years of boarding school.”

  “Sadly, yes,” Ro called out, taking the lead as Clio watched on.

  The pair spun around the room, avoiding sofas and side tables, almost knocking over a lamp at one point, which Clio went and righted, setting it farther from the edge, away from danger. After their second turn, as Ro approached Clio once more, she held out her hand, offering Clio a spin. Clio simply shook her head, wide-eyed.

  When the song finally ended and the room was, once more, silent, Thalia dropped into an armchair. “Imagine!” she said, when her breath had returned. “Living like this!” One arm swept across the room. “Being able to come and go as you please, playing gramophone records at three in the morning if you felt like it. Having your own money, answering to no one.”

  Ro’s eyebrows raised. “I’m afraid Hestia only answers to no one because her parents both died of the Spanish flu.”

  “And she doesn’t seem terribly upset about that, does she?” Thalia said, carelessly.

  “Thalia!” Ro interjected.

  Thalia simply shrugged. “It’s not like you knew them.”

  “Still, they are your grandparents all the same,” Clio chimed in.

  “So Hestia claims.” Thalia rose again now and began to circle the room, picking up items as she went in order to inspect them more closely. After she had picked up a small brass clock, brought it to her face, grimaced slightly, then replaced it, she turned to the other two girls. “Though she really is out of her mind. Clio looks nothing like the man in that photograph and we all know it. So, do you believe all of this?” she asked them, looking first at Ro, then at Clio. “Everything Hestia’s told us, I mean?”

  Neither Ro nor Clio replied.

  “Because you didn’t, yesterday.” Thalia’s gaze honed in on Ro. “You said Clio couldn’t be one of us. What did you mean by that?”

  “I…,” Ro stammered, her heart beating faster and faster in her chest. She tried to meet Thalia’s eyes, but wasn’t successful for very long. “I thought that … oh, I don’t know. I’m probably confused. I’m sure I haven’t remembered correctly.”

  Thalia inspected her for a moment or two. “I doubt that very much. I saw your expression as you looked at that photograph. If you don’t entirely believe what she’s saying, why are you still here?”

  “I might ask you the same question. And I shall. Why are you still here?” Ro returned the question quickly, with a flash of her oh-so-similar blue eyes.

  Thalia simply laughed. “Well, I’m happy to tell you the truth about that. I plan never to return home. This, whatever it turns out to be, is my escape.”

  “You’re not going home?” Clio spoke up now.

  “Never,” Thalia said, quite firmly, her jaw set in a hard line. “Ever. I don’t care what I have to do, but I’m not going home.” Perhaps she sensed that she was giving too much away, because as Ro watched her, her demeanor then changed with a flick of one hand. “Anyway, that’s why I’m still here. I take it you’re here for the money.” She turned to eye Clio. “Seeing as you’re so desperate to return home. You must be staying for some reason, or you’d just go, wouldn’t you?”

  “I…” Clio opened her mouth, but wasn’t sure how to respond. “My mother is sick.”

  “Ill, you mean,” she said, picking up on Clio’s lower-class terminology. “And let’s not forget, if what Hestia says is true, your real mother is dead. But, if your other mother is sick, then you must need money.”

  “I do,” Clio said softly, turning away.

  “You can be as cruel as you like.” Ro felt the need to defend the obviously fragile Clio. “The effect wears off after a while.” There had been girls like Thalia at school—all false bravado. She knew her sort all too well.

  “Sorry, can’t help it,” Thalia replied. “It’s ingrained now. Still, at least Clio was honest about why she’s here—she needs money for her mother. You still haven’t told us your reason. You’re obviously not in great need of the stuff.”

  Ro flinched. “All this talk of money is incredibly distasteful.”

  “Ugh,” Thalia said. “I’ll never understand why the English can’t talk about money. Everyone else in the world does, you know! And we all use it. All need it. Why not talk about it?”

  “Because it’s vulgar,” Ro said, “that’s why. Anyway, to answer your question, I suppose I want to find out the truth.”

  “And?” Thalia pressed.

  “And what?”

  “Well, there has to be more than that, doesn’t there? It’s not enough. I mean, really, the truth. We all want to know the truth, don’t we?”

  Ro took a deep breath, surprised to find herself readily admitting to the other reason she was here and wondering if it was unwise. She knew Thalia was not the sort of person you should offer your weaknesses up to on a silver platter, but for some reason she felt compelled to con
fess. “And … welI, I suppose I’ve always wanted … a family. Siblings, I mean. Brothers and sisters. Like my friends have.”

  “Well, now you have one. Or two, as the case may be.” Thalia grinned, picking up a pair of spectacles, bringing them to her face, and squinting at Ro through them.

  “Yes,” Ro replied, uncertainly. “Lucky me.” But when Thalia took a step forward and winked at her, all goggle-eyed, she had to laugh. There was something about Thalia—she could be quite winning when she wanted to be, though, certainly, she was someone it would be wise not to cross.

  With a flourish, Thalia placed the spectacles back on the writing desk and threw herself into an armchair once more. “Personally, I think Hestia’s hiding something,” she said. “I know when people are hiding things and she’s hiding something.”

  “Hiding something?” Ro parroted.

  “Yes,” Thalia said, thoughtfully. “But then again, I can’t really blame her. I would guess that we’re all hiding something. It’s just that Hestia isn’t very good at it.”

  * * *

  As promised, Hestia returned within the hour and the foursome set off on what Thalia started to think, after taking a cab to London Bridge and then alighting onto a small steamer, seemed an oddly long journey. “I thought this Charles fellow lived in the city?” she queried her aunt, holding her hat in place with one hand and hoping her collar, which kept flying up in her face with the wind, wasn’t smudging the lipstick she had spent so long perfecting before leaving the house. She steadied herself against a railing as the gray Thames, whipped to a white-tipped frenzy by the wind, swirled beneath the boat.

  Hestia sighed. “He does. But he’s too concerned with what people might say to meet us in the city. He has both eyes firmly focused on his burgeoning career in politics. He has recently begun befriending important, influential people and taking advice as to the path his political career might follow. Any scandal at this point could mean he might never even begin.”

  It took a moment or two for Thalia to work out what her aunt was hinting at. “Oh, I see. The sins of the father and all that.”

  “And there are so many to choose from,” Hestia said, in a throwaway fashion, “so very many sins.” She turned to take in the view up to Tower Bridge. “I can’t say I blame Charles for being unhappy to hear from me and for refusing to believe a word I uttered about you all returning to the city. However, I’m hoping he will see sense and pass Demeter’s money on to you. Even if it’s only because he wants to be seen doing the right thing.”

  “I can’t say I care what his motives are,” Thalia replied. “As long as the result is my independence.”

  Hestia turned now to face her niece. She stared at her for a moment or two before speaking once more. “Your Uncle Clarence … he was rather…”

  “An old toad?” Thalia finished, without a hint of shame. She did not smile.

  Hestia’s eyebrows shot up, but then she pondered Thalia’s words. “Having met him, that sums it up rather well, I have to say.” Her expression then turned serious once more. “You know, you will always have a home with me, Thalia. Nothing would make me happier.”

  “Thank you.” Thalia nodded. “But the thing is, I’ve come to realize very quickly—I don’t want to live with you. I want to live like you.”

  * * *

  Ro placed her hand gently on Clio’s knee. For the past ten minutes, Clio had been sitting beside her on one of the four green bench seats that squatted in the Royal Observatory’s vast gravel forecourt. She had been swinging her legs back and forth in an agitated fashion, bent forward, her hands tucked beneath her thighs, scraping her shoes across the gravel. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Clio stopped immediately, with a jolt, realizing her childish behavior.

  “I don’t want you to wear your shoes out!” Ro said lightly, not wanting Clio to think she was scolding her, or telling her she was behaving in an unladylike manner. For want of conversation, she pointed out the observatory’s time ball. “Do you see the red time ball up there?” She directed Clio’s attention. “It falls every day at 1 P.M. It’s for sailors—so they can check their marine chronometers.”

  “Fascinating,” Thalia said drily, from one seat over, her legs crossed jauntily, looking altogether bored.

  “I think it’s fascinating,” Ro shot back.

  “Oh, where is that painful little man?” Hestia swiveled on the seat next to Clio and Ro. “Wait, there he is.” Her gaze honed in on someone crossing the forecourt. “I’d know that mincing step anywhere. Just like his father.” She stood up quickly and when Charles noticed her, he hurried on over, looking this way and that. As if, Ro thought, he might suddenly be recognized by several acquaintances, which was highly unlikely considering there was barely anyone around and they had traveled almost an hour from London to get here.

  Of course, Hestia had already met Charles, but as she introduced the three girls, Ro inspected Charles quietly, shocked that it was he who was controlling this apparently vast fortune of their mother’s, via their shared father. He was small, not much taller than herself, and certainly a half inch shorter than Thalia. Thalia caught Ro’s eye and Ro could see that she was absolutely gagging to tell him he seemed not much more than a child, but even she was wise enough to guard her tongue in the presence of someone she so desperately wanted something from. Still, she should have expected this—that he would be young. Hestia had mentioned their father had remarried just months after their mother’s death and that Charles was born not long after this. He must have been all of seventeen and a half years old, seeing as they were nearing eighteen.

  “And how are your political aspirations coming along?” Hestia inquired politely. “I hear you have been dining with several members of the Conservative Party lately.”

  Charles bristled at this, as if he had been found out. “My political aspirations are coming along very well, thank you,” he replied, crisply. “But let us get down to business.” He drew himself up to his full height, which wasn’t much. His eyes moved swiftly from one girl to the other, taking them in, Ro noted, from head to toe. Sizing up the competition, it seemed. “I have a proposition to make.” He paused to lick his lips and now it was Ro who glanced over at Thalia. The look Thalia gave her back confirmed her thoughts—he was nervous. Perhaps even more nervous than they were. But why? Because he had not previously been informed of their existence? Because he wanted to keep the fortune for himself? Because he knew more than they did about this situation they found themselves in? Ro was not sure.

  “As your aunt has mentioned, I may be interested in embarking on a career in politics. I am sure Lady Hestia has not failed to also mention my father’s reputation. It is a reputation I would, naturally, prefer to leave behind me.”

  “To leave behind, along with the three of us, I take it,” Thalia said with a half snort, already seeing exactly where Charles was headed.

  “Well, I must admit I did know a little something of your existence before Hestia’s initial visit to me, not that I would ever admit to this in public, of course. And it is rather a surprise to see three of you here today.” He glanced at Hestia, who started at his comment and gave him a look so fierce that Ro found herself taking a half step backward. Charles checked himself with this. “Still, it does not matter. That is all in the past now and what is done, is done. What matters now is that I am able to begin my career with a clean slate. That I am not held accountable in any way for my father’s actions.”

  “So,” Hestia nodded. “You do accept that Thalia, Erato, and Clio are your half sisters.”

  “I do no such thing,” Charles replied, quickly. “You cannot prove you are related to me, nor my father. I am here only to make you an offer.”

  Hestia’s expression turned stony. “Which is?” she asked him, as Charles paused. For effect? Ro was sure it was and that, most likely, he had rehearsed this speech more than once.

  “As you know, I am the sole heir to my father’s fortune, which was not a great sum, I must admit. Ev
en so, I need entertain no notion of passing any of it on to you, for it is legally mine in its entirety. However, as I am sure you are aware, Lady Hestia, my mother, an heiress, left me a great deal of money on her death. My guardian is very generous and allows me to control this money as I please, which I will come into full control of on my eighteenth birthday, not long from now. Because of this, I am able to make you a very generous offer—one third of the money directly inherited from my father, only on one condition. This condition is that you leave London immediately. That you return to your former lives and make no claim to the family name, or suggest that you represent the family in any way.”

  Hestia sucked her breath in, obviously appalled. As for the three girls, Ro’s eyes simply widened in awe of his gall, Clio glanced between the two of them to see what they were thinking, and Thalia … of course, Thalia spoke.

  “Why, you…!” Even she was lost for the right words.

  “I believe it to be a most generous offer. After all, I do not have to offer you anything. It is only out of the goodness of my heart…”

  “The goodness of your heart!” Hestia spoke up now. “You have no heart at all! You have just readily admitted that your father had little to no money. Anything in his name would have initially been my sister’s. To offer a third of the money that is rightfully theirs! That was entirely their mother’s, for her own children! Oh, but you are more like your father than I first thought!”

  “You are to keep quiet about this offer. I warned you,” Charles hissed, his demeanor completely changed now that he did not feel he had control of the situation. Suddenly, in Ro’s eyes, he seemed even younger than she had initially thought. A woman passing by wrapped her fur stole around her shoulders a little tighter and pretended not to notice their argument.

  “I will tell whomever I please, young man.” Hestia’s fierce look had returned. “For this is not about me, but about my nieces. My sister’s children. I think you know full well the hell your father put me through. That he also put my sister through…”

  “Oh, I know a lot of things. About you. And especially about your sainted sister and her … ways.”