Will You Love Me in September

When we were in her room she looked at me very seriously and said, "There is something you will have to know, Clarissa, and now that you are proposing to visit your Hessenfield relations I and your Uncle Jeremy think it is time to tell you. Your mother was a wealthy woman. You are her heiress. We did not tell you this before but we had many consultations in the family and we came to the conclusion that it is not good for young people to know they have money.”

I was astounded. I was rich. It was something which had never occurred to me.

"Yes," went on Damaris, "your mother inherited money through her father's family.

It has accumulated over the years, as money does. When you are eighteen years of age it will come to you. We had planned to tell you on your seventeenth birthday, but in view of what has happened we thought it best that you should know now.”

"Am I ... very rich?”

Damaris looked uneasy. "It is difficult to know exactly how much there is for you to inherit. It will be in bonds and such like. Your great-uncle was a very good businessman and a cautious one. He had arranged for everything to be well taken care of. There is something else too. When your kinsman from the north came here he told us that your father had left you money. A great deal of this was in France, for he had managed to shift some of his assets over there when he was resident at the Court of Saint-Germain and in Paris. The fact is that you are a considerable heiress.”

"How strange!" I said. "I don't feel any different.”

"My dear child, your grandmothers and I have been a little worried. You see, you are going away from us, and there are fortune hunters... . You are so young as yet. But your mother, when she was about your age, was deceived by an adventurer.

We thought you should know of this. Dear Clarissa, don't look so alarmed. It would be considered good news by most people, you know.”

"I'm surprised really. Fancy me ... an heiress!”

Damaris put her arms round me and kissed me tenderly. "It W0n't make any difference, will it ... not to us?”

"How could it?" I asked, bewildered.

"Well, now you know. You will be going away very soon. We shall have to start thinking about that. Clarissa, it was good of you to stay until Sabrina was born.”

"I had to. I should have been so desperately worried if I hadn't been with you.”

She looked at me earnestly and then she said, "Will you promise me something?”

"Of course ... if I can.”

"If anything should happen to me and Jeremy ... would you look after Sabrina?”

"Anything happen? What do you mean?”

"We live in a dangerous world. People are killed on the roads. I heard only yesterday of a family who were traveling in their coach and were set on by footpads. There was resistance and the wife was shot. There were Harriet and Gregory. ... It has set me thinking. If anything should happen to us while Sabrina needs to be cared for... . Would you look after her ... for me?”

"Oh, dearest Aunt Damaris, of course I would." I felt suddenly uplifted. For the first time since I arrived in England I had been made to feel I was not a child.

I was someone capable of accepting responsibility and they realized it.

Was that what being an heiress meant?

My great-uncle Carl, of whom I had seen very little, had come home. He had been abroad fighting during the war and had distinguished himself in the service of the Duke of Marlborough and won honors at Blenheim, Oudenarde and Malplaquet. He was something of a hero and Great-grandfather Carleton was clearly very proud of him.

I heard my grandmother Priscilla say to Damaris, "Your grandfather always loved Carl best. I can tell you that when I was a young girl I always took second place. No, not even that. He nardly noticed my existence.”

He does now," said Damaris, and Priscilla just looked thoughtful. So here was Uncle Carl-bronzed and handsome, a hero returned from the wars. He must have been in his mid-forties; he was four years or so younger than Priscilla. He was still in the army, of course, and had a great deal to think about.

He did not come alone but brought with him Sir Lance Clavering, who was much younger than he was and who had also returned from the war. Uncle Carl had been his commanding officer and clearly had some respect for him. Lance Clavering was, according to Arabella, nothing more than a boy. I suppose he seemed so to her, but he was quite mature to me. He was in fact twenty years old, nearly eight years older than I was, and that made him seem very grown up. I thought him outstandingly handsome. His clothes were exquisite. He was not in uniform like Uncle Carl, because he had merely been a soldier during the war. Uncle Carl was General Eversleigh and a regular soldier.