Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [85]
‘Dearest Lily,’ Grace said, ‘for some of that time, I didn’t even know you were gone! And when I did find out, they told me that you’d run off with a groom.’
Lily pulled such a face at this notion that James and Grace both laughed.
x
When Mr Stamford came into the room some fifteen minutes later, he looked very pleased with himself.
‘Mr and Mrs Unwin, together with Miss Charlotte Unwin, are to be charged with grand fraud,’ he said. ‘It’s obvious that Sylvester Unwin was implicated in the plan but, as we know, the Lord has already meted out his sentence.’
Lily looked around at their serious faces. ‘What does all that mean?’
Grace took a deep breath. ‘I have a lot to tell you.’ She addressed Mr Stamford, ‘Does my sister know about Papa and the . . . ?’
Mr Stamford shook his head. ‘We haven’t told her everything. We thought that might be better coming from you.’
‘What?’ Lily asked, seeing everyone was looking at her.
‘I’ll tell you everything when we get to the hotel,’ Grace promised, for she was feeling tired and drained.
‘Binge and Gently now have all the relevant documents in their possession,’ said Mr Stamford, ‘including the fake adoption certificate. It only remains for you to produce an affidavit signed by someone who – at least six months ago – knew you and your sister as Grace and Lily Parkes.’
‘That will be Mrs Macready,’ Grace said. ‘I believe she’s living with her son in Connaught Gardens.’
‘Then perhaps tomorrow morning my clerk here,’ Mr Stamford said, indicating James, ‘could go with you to ask if she would kindly append her signature to the necessary papers. It will then only remain for a trust fund to be set up.’ He paused. ‘I presume you don’t have a bank account?’
Grace shook her head.
‘Then a joint one will be opened for you and your sister, and money transferred as and when you need it.’
Lily frowned, yawned and looked at Grace. ‘Are we rich? Is it Papa?’
‘It is Papa, and I rather think we are going to be quite rich, quite soon,’ said Grace.
x
Chapter Thirty
‘Will we take a hackney cab?’ Grace asked James, looking out of the hotel reception area into the damp greyness of the morning. She was wearing a dark-green velvet mantle with matching fur muff and bonnet; the colour complementing her hair and making her eyes shine with an amber light.
James laughed. ‘How quickly you’ve become used to your new-found wealth,’ he said. ‘Two nights in London’s best hotel, breakfast in bed – and now a demand that I call a hackney cab to take you to Connaught Gardens.’
‘Oh really, please don’t think . . .’
He laughed again and shook his head. ‘I’m only teasing; of course we must have a cab.’ He spoke to a porter, who went to find one. ‘Where’s your sister this morning?’
‘She’s gone back to bed,’ Grace said. ‘Or what I should really say is that she hasn’t yet risen, because we hardly slept at all last night. We stayed awake for hours, chatting and exchanging stories and talking about what we were going to do. And I’m sorry to say that Lily ate every piece of fruit in the bowl.’
He laughed, and then grew more serious. ‘Did you tell her about the unfortunate demise of . . . of that certain gentleman?’
‘I did,’ Grace said as they got in the cab. ‘And I told her that I’d discovered who he really was, too.’
It had been a memorable night for the two girls: a storytelling session to end all storytelling sessions, during which they’d both laughed and cried so much it was hard to tell which emotion had predominated. Grace smiled, remembering. ‘But anyway, Lily couldn’t come out with me today because she hasn’t any shoes.’
‘Ah,’ said James, handing over a small envelope, ‘then it’s just as well that Mr Stamford has advanced me ten pounds so that you may buy any little necessary items for yourselves.’
Grace took it and thanked him, her heart full. It was impossible to put into words, she thought, how it felt to be riding with a young gentleman in a hackney cab through London traffic