Mr Forster's Fortune by Lizzie Church Page A

miserable nip-farthing had kept his allowance on the tightest possible rein and threatened to disown him if ever he tipped the double. And yet look at what other fellows got up to. Look at his cousin Tom – the cousin who, though three years his junior and three times less bright, was already in possession of all the wealth that he himself could ever hope for, who could spend as freely as a maharaja, yet still demanded more. So Robert had grown up resenting his father. He had never understood. And now, now that he was of age and being treated as his son at last – although he had longed to be taken into his confidence, to be party to his thoughts and fears – well, now that he had reached that particular goal, he was finding that in many ways he wished it had not happened.
    ‘And the sister – the bracket-faced sister whom you spoke of, sir – my Aunt Springfield. She got what she wished for as well?’
    His father nodded once.
    ‘Aye, your dear Aunt Springfield – a woman who’s as silly as they come. Yes, she got what she said she wanted, too – a rich husband – and she led him a very merry dance, I can tell you. I don’t know who was the more relieved when he passed away – she, so she could enjoy her wealth with her brainless son, or he, for escaping her clutches for the very last time. Why – many’s the time that he and I... well, humph! – I shall not say much of what we got up to. But we were good friends – friends in adversity, if you like – ever since our marriages. It’s a jolly good thing we were – for their brother – your uncle, Mr Franklin – didn’t like either of us above half. I didn’t have the best of credentials, after all, and Mr Springfield, though wealthy, was not the most respectable of men. Yes, Franklin would gladly have stood in our way, if he could. But his sisters were quite determined. They knew what they wanted, and they were determined to have it, whether their brother approved of their choices or not.’
    ‘So that is why you are my cousin Tom’s guardian, sir – because my aunt’s brother disliked Mr Springfield so much?’
    ‘Not his guardian, Robert – his mother, for her sins, is thankfully his guardian – but certainly he left me in charge of all the funds. And I am guarding his capital for him as if it were my own. It is my duty to do so, and it’s what his father would have wanted me to do. He’s a real scapegrace, young Springfield – no real harm in him, I daresay – but hardly a brain cell in his entire head. His father was desperate that he didn’t gamble everything away before his majority. I’ve been doing my best to protect him from himself.’
    Mr Forster looked at his father a little desperately. Though his father had not said so – although no word of it had ever passed his lips – Mr Forster could tell that he had told him his story for a purpose. And suddenly, sitting in front of him at the table, letter in hand, he realised what it was. He realised as clearly as if his father had spelled it out to him. His lordship was suggesting that his son and heir should do as he had done, should sacrifice himself and his happiness for the benefit of others - that he should marry for convenience - for money - for the good of his estate – and that it was by doing just this that he would finally earn his regard.
    ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said to him , dully. ‘Thank you for telling me all these things. It seems a shame that James should not be given his commission, though perhaps it is just as well. It would break my mother’s heart to see him go abroad. I had not appreciated quite the position in which we find ourselves. It is important for me to understand the truth.’

Chapter 16
    Captain Alfred King, proud officer in the Royal Surrey Militia and equally proud recipient of an investment income of £685 per annum, courtesy of a generous bequest from his grandpapa, was sitting stiffly with his cousin Lady Cecily in the bright drawing room