“No need? Oh!” said Mrs Fortescue. “But I was told they were penniless.”
“You received a letter from Mr Timmins in which he informed you that the money their father had left for their education was practically exhausted, and that your services would not be required after their winter vacation.”
“I was given to understand that they were penniless girls. What do you mean?” said Mrs Fortescue.
“You will be glad to hear that they are very far from penniless. Their mother has left them a large fortune which they will come into as soon as they attain their majority. Meanwhile, Lady Marian Dixie is appointed their guardian. She wishes them to continue their education, and they are going to Girton for the purpose. It is good news—yes, it is very good news. Florence and Brenda will, I make no doubt, be fitted to bear the awful responsibility of wealth.”
“But—but,” said Mrs Fortescue, almost blue with rage; “how can you justify—”
“I justify nothing, my dear madam; I simply state a fact; you are welcome to tell it to whom you please. As far as I can make out, the girls were not told anything absolutely untrue. As far as their father’s money was concerned, they were penniless. There was no mention made of their mother’s fortune. It was, I gathered, a test to discover who were their true friends. Rich young girls are often surrounded by those who simply prey on them for the sake of what they can get. Susie, don’t you think we had better come out while the sun shines? You won’t think me rude, Mrs Fortescue, if I ask you to call at some future date.”
“Oh no; I won’t think you rude,” said Mrs Fortescue. “I—I am astonished—stunned—”
But she spoke to empty air, for Susie and her father had left the room. “They did not even show me out!” thought the furious widow. “Langdale won’t see me long!”
Perhaps very few people suffered more exquisite torture than did Mrs Fortescue after she left Colonel Arbuthnot’s house. Oh! if only she had been good to Florence during that week. Oh! if only she had done just—just what she had not done! She was like many another unfortunate man or woman in this world which contains so many failures! She had acted in the worst possible way at the crucial moment. She had missed her chance. The girls were rich after all, and yet she had given Florence a ham bone for breakfast! She walked fast, trying to cool down after the blow which, it is to be feared, Colonel Arbuthnot rather rejoiced in giving her.
Suddenly, an idea came to her. If she was suffering, why should not Major Reid share her tortures? How impertinent he had been to her that morning! But she was right after all—right, not wrong. That silly fool of a Michael—if only he had been true to his heart’s instincts—would have won an heiress, and perhaps an heiress to a far greater extent than even Mrs Fortescue’s dreams had pictured.