Different Tides (13 page)

Alexandra Tate was less spontaneous than the woman who’d given birth to her. She had a more studied air, as if she’d spent most of her life being trained for this important incident in her life. Samuel Tate gazed at her with pride.

Zachariah knew he was clutching at straws. He didn’t want Alexandra to be Alice’s child … didn’t want Alice to be less than perfect in his eyes, even though her family had been peppered with usurers who had loaned his brother gambling money at extortionate rates of interest. They had acted like a pack of hunting dogs and had brought the family down. Then they’d picked the bones clean and moved on, taking no hostages.

Except for the less than immaculate condition of her gown, Alexandra was a study of perfection. But then, he was looking for faults in her.

As he had with the interview of Clementine, Zachariah took the role of observer rather than inquisitor. He felt at a disadvantage in the girl’s home, and would rather that the meeting had taken place in John’s office. But the old man had been too frail to travel, while the girl had refused to attend it without him.

She nibbled on her lower lip for a moment as her glance took him in. ‘My papa has not introduced us. May I ask who you are, sir, and what you have to do with this business?’

‘My name is Zachariah Fleet. It’s possible we might be related by marriage.’

She gave a faint smile. ‘Not to each other, surely.’

Zachariah was not in the mood to flirt with the girl. ‘One would hope not.’

Colour tinted her cheeks and her lips tightened. Yet her eyes were wide and filled with an artful sort of innocence. Her eyelashes dipped and trembled for a second, and then opened with the lashes glazed in tears. She gazed down at her hands again and murmured. ‘My pardon, that was in poor taste. In what way are we related?’

‘Through the woman you claim as your mother.’

He would have expected her to say her mother’s name. Instead, she waited for him to continue.

‘You do know the name of the woman I’m talking about, don’t you?’

‘Oh yes. Her name was Alicia Morris when I was born. It says so on the marriage licence.’

He exchanged a glance with John, who smiled and cleared his throat.

The girl called Alexandra Tate seemed to take it as a cue for she looked up at John and smiled. ‘What is it you want to know about me, sir?’

‘Anything you wish to tell me that will help your case.’

Her voice was light and pleasing. ‘Ah yes … my case. My foster father’s case actually. I haven’t had the time to really study it properly. Papa told me there was a legacy from a grandmother, whose existence was unknown to me until then, and I would be entitled to claim it when I was of age. So here I am, claiming it as he has bidden me.’

‘When did you learn of the legacy?’

‘Two weeks ago.’

So this girl who had been born Alexandra Morris was about the same age as Clementine. It was an interesting coincidence – too much of one perhaps.

She took some papers from a box on the sideboard. ‘These will provide proof of my identity.’

John scrutinized the papers before handing them over. Zachariah ran a glance over them. The date on the death notice of Howard Morris was different to the one on the papers he had in his possession.

‘What do you know about your immediate family, Miss Tate?’

‘I have recently learned that my father was an officer who died at the battle of Waterloo. After he died my mother married a baron. Both of them are dead.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Yes, sir. I’ve never been given reason to have an interest in others or believed that my foster father and his wife were anything less than my blood parents.’

‘How did you learn of your mother’s death?’

Zachariah leaned forward. He’d be interested in hearing the answer to that too.

She afforded a glance to Samuel Tate, who looked grey and tired, and he nodded. ‘Someone who knew them told Papa several weeks ago. The event was recorded in a news sheet and they gave him a cutting, I understand … Papa?’

‘Which news sheet?’ John said.

‘Goodness, does it matter?’ the man said, raising a handkerchief to his mouth when he coughed. ‘The report is amongst the papers.’

‘We have to make sure we have the right person. Can you leave the papers for us to check up on?’

‘Most certainly. They are copies. The originals are in the possession of … another party.’

‘Eventually we will need to examine the original documents, since the matter might need to go before the court. Can you contact this other party?’

‘I have an address somewhere. They gave me a card and I put it on the dresser, but I seem to have mislaid it. I’ll look for it.’

Zachariah’s ears pricked up. ‘Are you aware of the amount of the legacy, Miss Tate?’

She hesitated and gazed at her grandfather again. ‘We believe it to be quite a large sum; eight hundred pounds … or so the lawyer who visited us said. The copy of the will doesn’t name an amount.’

‘You have a copy of the will? Where did you obtain it from?’

‘It was offered to me for a small charge. The lawyer knew Alexandra’s mother well and he approached me with the information and proof.’

‘They charged a fee for the consultation? May I enquire how much?’

The man said gruffly, ‘Fifty pounds. A tutor doesn’t earn much and we no longer had the stipend. It was my life savings. I’d saved it for Alexandra. We were living on a small allowance from her mother, but it abruptly stopped about four years ago. From what you are saying I can only surmise that we’ve been duped. I don’t know what we’re going to do now. I have no property to sell.’

The girl placed her hand over his. ‘We’ll manage, Papa. So there’s no legacy. I thought it was too good to be true. Don’t worry. I’ll think of something. Find another job. Perhaps I could find work in a boarding house, or sew seams in the evenings.’

John said quietly, ‘Is this whole story built on lies?’

The girl drew herself up. I believe my papa. He would have no reason to lie about it.’

‘Except for the legacy.’

‘We discussed it …’ She shrugged, saying defiantly, ‘Papa said if there was a legacy, then there would be no shame in claiming it if I was entitled to have it.’

Zachariah couldn’t fault that type of reasoning. ‘Can you tell me the name of this lawyer?’

‘He called himself George Sheridan.’

He exchanged a glance with John. ‘We’ve heard of him, and believe him to be a fraudster.’ He remembered the money he’d paid to the man, and the long list of expenses they’d supposedly expended on behalf of his brother and the children, and felt angry at allowing himself to be so stupid. He could only blame himself for that. He’d been so eager to meet his wards that he’d thrown caution to the wind.

She was close to tears now, her careful poise relaxed. Her shoulders drooped with the despair she felt, though she tried to maintain her dignity. ‘I’m sorry you were involved in this. Let me see you out. We won’t bother you again.’

She stood, holding out her hand to her foster father and trying to disguise the desperation in her eyes when she said, ‘I’m afraid we’ve been duped, Papa.’

Wearily he said, ‘I’m too old to have fallen for that trick. I wonder how they knew so much about us.’

‘They were acquainted with my sister-in-law’s family. She must have confided in Mrs Sheridan.’

There was something about the old man that touched Zachariah, a droop to his shoulders that spelled out disappointment, but more than that – utter dejection. Zachariah felt sorry for him, for his eyes were more desperate than those of the girl now.

‘May we stay a little longer, Miss Tate? There is a legacy, and it needs to be discussed, otherwise we wouldn’t be here.’

Her eyes widened. ‘But you just said—’

‘Hear me out, Miss Tate. There’s also a problem. There are two possible claimants for the legacy. As it stands now, your father appears to have been a bigamist. In other words he was married to two women, and both at the same time. His wives were each left with a daughter to raise when he died, and they were born within a week or so of each other.’

Her composure crumbled slightly and there was no artifice in her now. After a moment or two of thought a faint but cautious smile flitted across her face. ‘You mean I have a sister … may I meet her?’

‘At the moment her claim is being assessed, the same as yours will be. The only difference is that she doesn’t know about it yet. I will enlighten her about that and tell her about you the next time I see her. If that’s her wish there’s no reason why you shouldn’t meet. Obviously, only one of you is eligible for the legacy – and that’s not necessarily the eldest of you, but the daughter from the first legitimate marriage Howard Morris embarked on.

‘Perhaps you would relate your details to Mr Beck. Any information you may have as to the whereabouts of the Sheridan couple will be useful if we swear a complaint out against them, though I imagine those fraudsters will be long gone. In the meantime I’ll supply you with an amount of money to temporarily support you, if you will accept it.’

Alexandra’s reserve fled and she began to weep softly. ‘Of course we’ll accept it; you are too kind, sir.’ She took her foster-father’s hand in hers. ‘Everything will be all right now, Papa.’

He was
much
too kind. Zachariah decided it wasn’t a good time to tell her about the existence of Edward and Iris … not until he was sure. He sighed as he offered her his handkerchief. His life was getting more complicated by the minute and he was in danger of running out of handkerchiefs if he met many more weeping women. In that event he would probably weep himself and need them too.

Not that Alexandra had many tears, just enough to dampen her long lashes for effect as she gazed at him over the linen. She was dainty and had managed to turn tears into an asset instead of resembling an embarrassment, as some women did.

It was later, just as they were leaving when Alexandra drew him aside and said, ‘Papa is a good man, but he’s ill. This gown was bought from a stall so I’d make a good impression on any suitors that might wish to present themselves. He has spent a great deal of money on dancing and music lessons, in the hope I might attract a naval officer. He thinks that having the legacy can only heighten my desirability in that regard. However, to men like you, the amount would be insignificant, no doubt.’

‘Indeed it is not, Miss Tate. Were it my money I’d put it to work and find some way of increasing it.’ Which was exactly what she hoped to do by attracting a worthwhile husband, he supposed.

He hoped she didn’t have him in his sights. A woman with her looks and accomplishments would be hard to resist, and the legacy, though small, would be further enticement. He was thankful he hadn’t gone to sea, so didn’t qualify as a suitor – though he’d observed that some women weren’t fussy about the health, age or occupation of a prospect, when wealth was involved. He conceded, though, that having the right wife could prove to be an asset.

He gave her the benefit of his advice. ‘You’re a lovely young woman whose desirability needs no enhancement. You should not be in too much of a hurry to wed – not until you’ve made the right social connections. The Sheridans have already relieved your father of his savings and me of a considerable amount of money.’

She gave an arch little smile. ‘I understand you are not a married man, sir?’

He sighed, and said shortly, ‘Indeed I’m not, and neither do I wish to be.’

‘I’m not telling you this to encourage a proposal, sir. I do not lack for admirers. There’s one man who expresses a desire to wed me. He is a good and worthy man and talented with artistic leanings. I’ve made it clear to him that I would rather marry a man with more status.’

‘Please address me as Mr Fleet.’

‘My papa will not live much longer and he wants to see me advantageously settled. I want you to think well of him, Mr Fleet. Although they were not wealthy, he and my foster mother always treated me with the utmost love and kindness, and I was happy with them. It was a blow to discover I was not of their blood. Worse was the fact that I’d been abandoned by my mother, as though I was not fit to be part of the family. After all, she’d been married to my father, and was a widow thereafter, so there can be no stain on my character.’

Zachariah knew how that felt. He also knew when he was being manipulated. ‘Allow me to make this very clear, Miss Tate. I’m not in the market for a wife.’

She coloured slightly. ‘I wish Papa had never heard of this legacy, for better to be left in ignorance and with your self-esteem intact.’

Zachariah doubted it. ‘Unfortunately one can’t gain any physical sustenance from self-esteem.’

‘Papa has nothing left except your charity – not even his pride.’

Ah … his charity … and to think he’d imagined her to be after securing a ball and chain on his ankle. That was pride at its worst. How kind of her to remind him she was simply after money. She didn’t miss an opportunity.

‘Your foster father has you, Miss Tate, and I have the greatest respect for him. You can contact John Beck when the need arises. In the meantime, if we have any further news I’ll send a message.’

‘You’re scheming, Zach,’ John said on the way home. ‘How did you find them?’

‘The man was genuine and the girl too plausible. Alexandra attempted to manage me, and she was good at it.’

‘Not like the lock-horns approach of Clementine, then?’

‘No, nothing like Miss Clemmie.’

He tried not to grin when John raised an eyebrow and said, ‘I do believe you’re getting fond of that young woman.’

‘Nonsense. I barely think of her at all. When I do it’s because she’s a thorn in my side. In comparison, Alexandra is twice the lady, and twice as accomplished.’

‘But a trifle calculating and self-absorbed.’

‘I can’t blame her for trying when poverty is knocking on her door. She favours my sister-in-law in looks, I fancy, but she’s a little too studied for my taste. She told me she’s on the market for a worthy husband, and that’s a role she’d been trained for.’

‘Ah … it made you feel vulnerable, did it not?’

‘No it did not. Besides, this little cuckoo has set her sights a bit higher than previously from what I gather. Now she knows her mother was married to a baron. That combined with the legacy will help her achieve her goal. She called me Sir Zachariah a couple of times. I told her to call me Mr Fleet.’