Courtship -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction; Social classes -- England -- Fiction
"I will, of course; but I have a strong idea there are none."
"Why?" asked Wilton.
"Because we should have been sure to have heard of them. The father--a
needy foreigner, by all accounts--would never have resisted the
temptation to dip his fingers into such well-filled pockets as those of
Lord St. George; and the application would have been through us, or
referred to us. No, I cannot help thinking Madame or Mrs. de Monteiro
left no children."
"And I cannot help thinking she has. When is the funeral to take
place?"
"The day after to-morrow. Meantime, had you not better take up your
residence in S---- Square? The house is yours, and probably everything
in it."
"No, Kenrick; I could not stand the house, nor could Mrs. Wilton, I am
sure. I shall remain at the hotel where we now are. After the funeral we
must examine the poor old man's letters and papers; we may find some
clue to the real heir among them."
Meantime an outline of the story began to be told at the clubs and
dinner-tables, now throbbing with the convulsive life of the season.
To the older members of society the name of Wilton had once been
familiar, but Ralph had little beyond regimental renown and a high
reputation at the Horse Guards. Now, however, that he was supposed to
have inherited the estates as well as the title of Lord St. George,
relatives and connections gathered round him "thick as leaves that fall
in Valambrosa."
Ella was at first bewildered, as well as surprised, at the numerous
cards and polite inquiries for Lord and Lady St. George, until Wilton
unfolded the whole history for her enlightenment, and expended some bad
language on the annoyance of being thus saddled with a title he could
not support. Still he was sufficiently alive to the necessity of his
position to insist on his wife's supplying herself with proper and
fashionable mourning at the most select milliner's he could find out.
The result delighted him and appalled Ella. The garments were certainly
becoming, but never in her simple life had she seen so much money paid
for clothes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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