when you must be aware that
I have not yet spent three days in this country,” replied Kit with some
asperity.
He bowed. “I
will enlighten you. That is Brabington Court, home of the Brabington family for
generations. As you can see, the estates share a common boundary. There was a
fair amount of intercourse between the two families, but it would be too much
to expect that my Lord Debenham would recognize a man whom he last saw when he
was himself but a child.”
“My father was
part of that family?”
“Exactly. The Brabingtons
were a wild lot, but none wilder than the younger son, at that time a lad of
twenty. They did not object to his wildness so much as to his extravagance.
There were a series of scandals, culminating in the young man being cut off
without a penny and betaking himself to Europe, where he assumed the name of Clareville.”
“My father!”
He smiled, “Just
so, my dear,” he assured her.
She was
silent, considering the revelation he had made. What it meant to this homeless
waif to hear that she was, in fact, a member of an old and distinguished
family, this man could not begin to know. She raised shining eyes to his face. “Oh,
Sir, how can I thank you for telling me this, it means so much. So often I have
longed to know the truth about myself!”
He took her
hand in a fatherly manner and pressed it gently. “There is more, child, will
you hear it?”
She bowed her
head, the light dying from her eyes as she remembered his accusation against
Debenham.
“I have no
doubt that Debenham is as fervent a rebel as your father ever was; therefore,
it was not for political reasons that he betrayed your father. No, the reason
was greed, greed so overwhelming that the honour of a lifetime was not
sufficient to stand against it. Debenham discovered the truth. Clareville was no fool. He knew there might
come a time when he wished to return to England and prove his identity. When he
left, he took with him the frontispiece of the family Bible. On this page, as
is customary, there were the names of many generations of Brabingtons, and when
you were born he added your own, Katherine Brabington. Debenham has that
frontispiece, has known all along that you were hiding your true sex.”
“But why,” she
cried in agony, “I do not understand.”
“What an
innocent you are. You are the last Brabington save for a distant cousin, who has
inherited the title and the crumbling Court. The Brabington fortune was based
on their West Indian properties and was not entailed; you are, in fact, an
heiress of extraordinary wealth. Debenham’s plan was simple. He persuaded your
father to leave you in his care. He made sure of that before he betrayed him.
Now you are in his power. I daresay he expects to charm you into marriage. If
not, well, it would not be the first time a maiden has been forced to accept
marriage as the only alternative to ruin!”
Kitty thought
this over. “If that were his Lordship's intention, it seems strange that he
should have become betrothed to another woman.”
The stranger
looked rather foolish for a moment. He recovered quickly, however. “My dear, that
poor lady serves merely to lend the man respectability. Do not imagine that he
that is capable of planning such an infamous course would hesitate to jilt an
unfortunate gentlewoman.”
Kitty was bewildered
by his arguments, but half-convinced by his frank and open manner, far different
from the cool and mocking Earl. Her heart cried out against believing ill of
her guardian, but her understanding could not but admit it to be a plausible
tale. She decided that she must have proof one way or the other. She told him
so.
“I expected nothing
less. However, the only proof we need is the assurance that Debenham knows
exactly who you are, for he can have no honest reason for keeping the truth from
you. Do you agree?”
“I suppose so,”
she said, doubtfully.
“Well then, go
to him, search the house, enter into his room somehow. You