“He is twenty-five years old,” said Mrs. Fitzhardinge. “But the history of himself and family is most extraordinary: and his father is not altogether unknown to you:—for, if I remember aright, it was you who prosecuted the celebrated highwayman, Thomas Rainford, for the robbery of the late Sir Christopher Blunt?”
“What earthly connexion can exist between Tom Rain and the young nobleman who wants to borrow money?” demanded Percival, with unfeigned astonishment.
“Grant me your patience, my dear sir,” said Mrs. Fitzhardinge, “and I will explain the matter as concisely as possible. Thomas Rainford was in reality the son of the late Earl of Ellingham—the eldest son, and legitimately born, of that nobleman, who privately married a certain Octavia Manners. The individual who at present bears the title and enjoys the estates of the Earldom of Ellingham, is the offspring of a second marriage contracted by his father. He and Rainford are consequently half-brothers. All these facts are proven by certain papers now in the possession of myself and daughter. One of the documents is the marriage-certificate of the late Earl with Octavia Manners,—another the baptismal certificate of their son,—a third the journal of Octavia Manners explaining many matters connected with the whole affair,—and then follows a variety of documents establishing the identity of Thomas Rainford with the son of the late Earl and the Countess Octavia. Thus far the rights of Thomas Rainford are clearly made out. I must now inform you that Rainford and Lady Georgiana Hatfield have long been united in matrimonial bonds, and that the husband has for a considerable time adapted his wife’s name. The offspring of this alliance is the young gentleman of whom I have already spoken to you, and who at present bears the denomination of Charles Hatfield. Now, his father being the rightful Earl of Ellingham, this Charles Hatfield is actually the Viscount Marston, and heir to the title and estates of the Earldom.”
“Your history, my dear madam, is clear and comprehensive enough,” said Percival, already calculating the enormous gains which might be derived from the fact of becoming the banker to a young noblemen having a vast fortune in the perspective, and whom he supposed to be as extravagantly inclined as youthful scions of the aristocracy in such cases generally are. “And you possess the proofs of all the singular facts which you have detailed?”
“The proofs—the positive proofs,” replied Mrs. Fitzhardinge, emphatically;—and turning towards her daughter, she said, “Show Mr. Percival the papers.”
“It is useless,” answered Perdita, in a firm but quiet manner, “unless he first agree to advance a certain sum of money, should they be satisfactory.”
“True,” said her mother, biting her lip at the thought that her daughter was more keen than herself: then, addressing herself to the miser, she observed, “You heard the remark that fell from the lips of Miss Fitzhardinge?”
“Yes—yes,” returned Mr. Percival. “We shall most likely do business together—most likely,” he repeated. “At the same time, I must see my way very clearly——”
“And we must be careful not to reveal unnecessarily any more of the important secrets of which we are the depositories,” said Perdita.
“Quite right, young lady!” exclaimed the miser, who experienced no slight degree of embarrassment: for he was afraid, on the one hand, of letting a good chance slip through his fingers—and he was fearful, on the other, of admitting that he had ample resources immediately available.