Free The Five-Minute Marriage by Joan Aiken

gray eyes to hers, laughed shortly, and took another sip of his wine. “ For a very simple reason, my dear ma ’ am. Because the real Miss Carteret has been supported and provided for by my great-uncle for the past twenty years—sixteen of them at the Queen ’ s Square Academy for Young Ladies in Bath. She was presented at Court two years ago under the sponsorship of Lady Bablock-Hythe, who was a friend of her mother ’ s. Her identity is established beyond question. And—I myself am engaged to be married to her. ”
    “ Oh! ” said Philadelphia, rather blankly.

 
    3
    After about ten minutes, Mr. Fitzjohn returned to the library. He walked in with a somewhat hasty, uncertain step and, ignoring the constraint in which the other two were sitting, ignoring Delphie altogether, said to Penistone,
    “ My uncle wishes to see you. And—and a letter has just arrived from Bath—from Cousin Elaine. ”
    “A letter — ?”
    “ —I have it here. ”
    Without another word, Mr. Penistone took the white oblong, broke the seal, and read the few lines written inside. Then he gave a brief, grim laugh, and tossed the paper over to Fitzjohn.
    “ Can ’ t see her way to leave Bath until after the Assembly— ”
    “ Oh, my God! ” With unsteady hands, Fitzjohn spread out the missive, and read it. The two men stared at one another.
    “ What now? ”
    “ You had best come to him—he has been asking for you repeatedly. ”
    They hurried out, taking no notice of Delphie, who remained absently gazing at the deplorably aged dogs huddled shivering about the fire. Was somebody fond of them? she wondered.
    During her previous silent interval alone with Mr. Penistone, she had been reviewing her situation with greater and greater amazement and indignation. On her first entrance into Chase, she had felt awkward, guilty, intrusive, embarrassed, wholly de trop; but now that she was mistress of some of the facts of the case, both her sense of outrage, and her spirit, grew rapidly.
    Some imposter had usurped her place! An imposter it must be, since she knew herself to be her mother ’ s true daughter, and had not the faintest doubt of her mother ’ s innocence and probity. But this imposter, this snake, reared and supported by Lord Bollington for so long, was without doubt the reason why her previous application had been so rudely rejected.
    But—given such a state of affairs—how would it be possible to prove her own and her mother ’ s claims? It must, Delphie supposed, mean having recourse to a lawyer—for there was plainly no help or sympathy to be obtained from any person at Chase—and lawyers cost money ... unless one could be found who considered their chances of success sufficiently good to be worth his risk.
    Moving restlessly under the anxieties aroused by these ideas, she glanced toward the window and realized with dismay that dusk was beginning to fall; consulting her mother ’ s watch (another proof of identity—as if anybody cared—for it had the Penistone crest, a hand grasping a battle-ax, engraved on its back) she discovered that the evening was well advanced. And they still had made no arrangements for the night! She decided that it was her duty to return at once and see how Jenny did.
    Not a soul did she meet as she retraced her steps to the West Wing. Either this establishment was remarkably deficient in servants, or, which was more probably, they were all assembled in a distant region, performing services for their dying master.
    Delphie had taken the precaution of counting doors along the west passageway on her previous return journey and so was spared any trouble in relocating the chamber where Jenny lay—which by now, illuminated both by the fire and a sufficiency of candles, had attained quite a cheerful aspect.
    What was Delphie ’ s surprise to discover that Miss Baggott, far from reclining in bed, was up and nearly dressed, hard at work fastening the innumerable buttons of an azure-blue brocade