Page 20 of The Heiress's Daughter
Betty shook her head. “Just listen.”
Clarissa continued, “You’ll understand when you see my sister Izzy. You’re the living image of her—or rather the way she looked when she was your age.”
“What, so she’s got black hair and green eyes? That don’t make me her sister. Or yours, because I don’t look nothing like you, do I?”
“Neither does Izzy,” Clarissa said tranquilly, “but you both look a great deal like my father—Izzy’s and mine. We had different mothers. And your resemblance to Izzy is more—much more—than hair and eye color.”
“So where is this Izzy, then? Not that I believe you or nothing.”
“No, I understand.” Clarissa gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m having a little difficulty accepting it myself—the last thing I expected when I left the house this afternoon was to discover a long-lost sister—but the more I see of you, themore certain I am that youareIzzy’s and my sister. As for where Izzy is, she’s away on her honeymoon at the moment, so you won’t meet her for a few weeks.”
Zoë looked at Lady Scattergood. “And what do you think? You reckon this lady and me are sisters?”
Lady Scattergood nodded. “Your resemblance to Isobel is extraordinary. The material evidence is slight, but I’m sure an investigation into your past will clarify the matter.”
Zoë shook her head. “I reckon you’re all barmy. I’m abastard. I grew up in the stews and I come from an orphanage. No way am I the sister of a couple of lady toffs.”
“My sister Izzy is illegitimate, too,” Clarissa said. “And when I met her—we were both almost nine years old—she’d just lost her mother and my father was arranging to have her dumped in the nearest orphan asylum. I heard him say that myself—in those very words. He made no attempt to deny her parentage, he just refused to take any responsibility for her.” She gave a satisfied smile. “But I decided to keep her. And so I did.”
“Like a stray puppy?” Zoë said sarcastically.
“No, like a beloved sister,” Clarissa said softly.
“And you aim to keep me, too?” Said with an air of defiance, it was another challenge.
“I would certainly like to,” Clarissa assured her. She turned to Lady Scattergood. “Ma’am?”
The old lady nodded. “Yes, yes, of course we’ll give her a home here with us. She’s clearly a relative, and the dogs like her. They’re very good judges of character.”
Clarissa heaved a sigh of relief at thatwe. It was a little awkward bringing home a complete stranger when she was just a guest here herself. “Thank you, ma’am. Then, Zoë, yes, I would certainly like to keep you. But of course it’s up to you.”
Zoë didn’t say a word. She looked from Clarissa to Lady Scattergood and back, her face full of doubt and suspicion.Clarissa didn’t blame her. It was a lot to accept, especially from strangers.
“Give her the little blue room. It’s small but she won’t mind that, not after being in one of those dreadful places.” Lady Scattergood focused her lorgnette on Zoë again and added, “And get her some decent clothing, for goodness’ sake. Can’t have people mistaking her for my scullery maid—who, I might add, dresses better than that.”
“Yes, of course,” Clarissa agreed. “She can wear some of Izzy’s clothes.”
There was a short silence. At last Zoë said, “You want me to live here?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not a brothel or nothing?”
“Abrothel!” Lady Scattergood dropped her lorgnette and let out a bark of laughter. “Good gad, child, is that what you thought?”
“Well, look at all them smutty statues. I never been inside a brothel, but I reckon this is what it’d look like.” Zoë gestured to the foreign-looking statues, many of which were of naked people in all kinds of poses. Now that Clarissa looked more closely at them, some were more than suggestive.
Lady Scattergood chuckled. “Gifts from my late husband, child. He traveled the world, sending me back such items as caught his fancy. I’ve been called many things in my time, but never a brothel keeper.” She chuckled again, seeming quite pleased by the shocking accusation.
“And you don’t want me for a lady’s maid?” Zoë persisted.
“No,” Clarissa said firmly. “Not as any kind of maid at all. As my sister.”
There was a longer silence. Zoë glanced a silent question at Betty, who gave her an encouraging nod. Betty seemed almost as excited as Clarissa. Betty, too, had come from an orphan asylum, yet she didn’t apparently feel any resentment for Zoë’s luck.
Clarissa knew it was a common orphan fantasy—that there was a grand family somewhere who would come and rescue them from a life of poverty and obscurity. Betty seemed to have no trouble believing that in Zoë’s case it was true.
Zoë, on the other hand, was a skeptic. But she would come around, Clarissa was sure. It was just a matter of time. Once she saw Izzy for herself, she’d feel differently.
