“You see,” I said, “that I must leave immediately.”
They all realized that. Uncle Peter said I should not travel alone. He would have come with me but for important business which he could not possibly fail to attend to. He was going to send Mrs. Eggham to travel with Eggham and me. Eggham was one of the grooms.
“It’s a pity they haven’t done better with the railways,” he said. “It’s about fifteen years since there was all that fuss about a train that went from Stockton to Darlington. Of course we were all sceptical then, and after that we began to expect wonders. And now if you go from London to Birmingham you have to break your journey and take the coach. The carriage will be comfortable and Mrs. Eggham is a pleasant woman. When do you propose to leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
So I said goodbye to them and this time, although Helena expressed her sorrow at my departure she did not beg to come with me.
I set out with the Egghams who were to stay a night or two at Cador and then return to London.
The journey was uneventful and in due course I arrived at Cador. It was always an emotional moment to catch sight of those towers—and perhaps particularly so now that they belonged to me.
It was early evening when we arrived. They had all been expecting me. Isaacs was in the hall with Mrs. Penlock and a number of the servants. Bob Carter was there also.
I was conscious of the suppressed excitement and I knew the cause. They were all aware that something momentous was happening.
“Mr. Tamblin told us you’d be coming,” said Mrs. Penlock. “We wasn’t quite sure which day but your bed is aired and everything’s ready.”
“I had a rather disturbing letter from Mr. Tamblin,” I said, looking from Isaacs to Mrs. Penlock. “Have you any idea what is wrong?”
They shook their heads. “We just know the lawyer wanted to see you, Miss Cadorson,” said Isaacs.
“I thought something was wrong with the house. The roof … or something like that.”
“The roof is in good order,” said Bob Carter. “I’d have seen to that.”
“So’s everything else as far as we do know,” added Mrs. Penlock.
“By the way, Mr. and Mrs. Eggham will want a room. They’ll want to eat, too.”
“We reckoned as you’d have someone with you, Miss Cadorson,” said Isaacs.
“And we’m prepared,” added Mrs. Penlock.
“They will probably stay for two nights.”
“I’ll have something on the table within the hour,” said Mrs. Penlock.
I retired early. Travelling was so exhausting. I decided to go along to the lawyer first thing in the morning.
I rose early, breakfasted and prepared to leave the house. I rode down to the town. I knew the Yorke, Tamblin offices well for they had once been Rolf’s father’s.
Mr. Tamblin was obviously relieved to see me.
“Come into the office, Miss Cadorson,” he said. “How glad I am that you are here. This is a most disturbing matter. Would you care for a glass of Madeira wine … or sherry?”
“No, thank you. I’d rather hear what is wrong.”
“Mind you, nothing is certain, but this woman could prove that she is right and that could mean you would be dispossessed of everything … or almost everything.”
“Please tell me the worst.”
“A woman has arrived here. She is now staying at the Anglers’ Inn. She is laying claim to Cador.”
“Laying claim? What do you mean? How can she do that?”
“Her story is that your father married her mother in Australia in 1814, and that she is his legitimate daughter and therefore heiress to his estates.”
“But that is ridiculous.”
“So I thought. But your father was in Australia at that time and she says she has proof.”
“Proof? What proof?”
“A certificate of marriage.”
“It’s nonsense. My father married my mother …”
“Her story is that he went through a form of marriage with your mother when he came back to England, but of course if as she says, he was already married to her mother, the ceremony he went through with your mother was no true marriage.”
“That is quite impossible. All those years ago! Where has she been until now? Why didn’t she come forward? Why does she wait until he is dead before she does so? What has she been doing all these years?”
“She said she did not know where he was. It was only when she read of him in the papers at the time of his death by drowning in Australia that she understood who he was. She knew nothing of his wealth and title. She says that when he was drowned with the woman who thought she was his wife and his illegitimate son, and she read about it in the Sydney Gazette, there was no doubt in her mind. She knew she was reading about her father because it gave his history, how he went out there for seven years because he had killed a man for attempting to rape a gypsy girl, how when his term was served he had heard of vast estates and a title awaiting him in England. How he had left Australia and returned to England. She was only a child when he went away and never knew him very well, but her deserted mother used to tell her about him. She says that when he came into his fortune he wanted to forget his life in Australia, so he just walked out and went to England … and there he married. But she insists that marriage was no true one.”
“She read of it in the papers. Do you think …?”
“I understand what you mean, Miss Cadorson. She read of what had happened and thought she would perpetrate this fraud. Your father had been in Australia; he had returned to England. She knew that. She had the facts. That’s what you mean. But her story is just possible.”
“I don’t believe a word of it.”
“I do not want to. But she says there is a certificate of marriage, which states clearly that there was a marriage with Jake Cadorson. It is an unusual name and this allegedly took place while your father was there.”
“Is this a real marriage certificate?”
“We shall have it examined of course. But I find this very disturbing.”
“What sort of woman is she?”
“Young. A little older than yourself. That fits of course. Her story undoubtedly has a certain plausibility.”
“And just suppose it is decided that she is telling the truth?”
“I am afraid she could claim the estate.”
“You mean … Cador would be hers.”
He looked grim. “There might be some arrangement.”
“What sort of arrangement?”
“As you have lived at Cador as your father’s legitimate daughter for the whole of your life to date, we might be able to preserve something. I cannot say. It will be a matter for the judiciary. I thought of calling in advice. You might decide to contest the case.”
“I cannot believe that my father would marry a woman and then desert her just because he had inherited his family home.”
“It is hard to believe. But people do the strangest things. He was out there. He had been a prisoner. He had lived a hard life. He may have, at some time, thought he would continue to live out there. He did acquire land and was working on it when the news came to him. It might have been that he did not think his wife—if that was what she was—would fit into the ancestral home or to life in England. It may be that he wanted to cut off all ties with the country of his captivity.”
“He would not have left her. He would not have come back and married my mother.”
Mr. Tamblin sighed. “What we shall have to consider is whether this certificate is true or false. I am of the opinion that a great deal will hang on that.”
“Where is it?”
“She guards it carefully. She knows that her case rests on it. When the time comes she will let it go but not, I fear, to me, for she knows I act for you.”