Chapter 1: A Letter Arrives
Simon Grey, Marquess of Weston, looked up as his butler entered his study.
"An express for you, my lord," said the butler gravely.
"Thank you, Chalmers," replied the marquess.
Quickly, the marquess broke the seal and began reading the letter. It was on the letterhead of a law firm headquartered in a small market town in Hertfordshire. The letter informed him of the tragic deaths of a couple and their infant daughter as the result of a collision between their carriage and a carrier wagon belonging to a furniture merchant. Due to the July heat, the deceased had been quickly interred although their identities were unknown. The reason the correspondent, a Mr. Desmond Gardiner, was contacting the marquess was that, before he died, the husband had implored the attending physician to see that the couple's three daughters, believed to be aged two, three, and four, who, fortunately suffered only minor injuries in the accident, were gotten to his brother. The man had then said, "Get my girls to the Marquess of Weston." Unfortunately, those were the man's last words. The attorney had been asked by the physician to contact the marquess for instructions related to the children, currently being cared for by a former governess who had retired to the area.
Weston was understandably confused. His own unmarried and childless brother had been killed while serving in his majesty's army in France. His sister, Ellen and her husband, the Earl of Matlock, had three children, but the only girl was almost seven; the two boys were even older. The children of the marchioness's elder brother, Viscount Sanderson, and his wife were all boys. His wife's younger sister and husband, Viscount Boyington, had only recently married. Could the man have been his wife's younger brother? Benedict Hamilton had left university for a grand tour just before the war with Napoleon had spread to Spain and not been heard from since. It was believed the young man had perished, but, perhaps, he had married and somehow found his way back to England. If so, though, why had he not contacted his parents?
Weston decided it would be prudent to discuss this matter with his father, the fourth Duke of Wyndom, before replying to the attorney. He was soon mounted on his favorite horse and headed the short distance that separated his townhouse, inherited from his paternal grandfather, to the duke's.
After greeting his parents upon his arrival and requesting a private word with his sire, Weston took his customary seat in the library and, after being offered and accepting a drink, informed his father of the letter and his speculations. The duke quickly perused the letter for himself.
"Could not the man be some friend of Matlock's or Sanderson's," asked the duke, referring to the spouses of Weston's elder sister and his wife's brother. "For that matter, it could be a friend of Boyington's," concluded the elder gentleman meaning Weston's newest brother-in-law.
"Other than Boyington who is still on his wedding trip," replied his scion, "I cannot think why anyone would want me to transport children to one of my brothers. Though I suppose it could be the brother of some other friend or acquaintance. I just cannot think of who it could be."
"The only thing you can do, my son, is arrange for the transport of these girls to a respectable home and hope some relative comes to claim them," remarked the duke.
"But, father," questioned his son, "What if they are Benedict Hamilton's children? Wouldn't Bainbridge want his granddaughters or Sanderson his nieces? With the recent loss of our own daughters, even my marchioness might want the girls."
"Though I agree that, with the loss of dear Holly and Ivy, Lady Judith is very likely to want to raise these girls, I must ask, if they are Hamilton's children, why would he not want them sent to his father or brother? Why you? And, if you were to take them in, what if you never find proof of their parentage? Or worse, what if you and Lady Judith took them in and raised them as your own nieces and six months or a year later, their real uncle came forward? Think about how difficult it would be to give them up! If no one ever claimed them, would you want the expense of raising and dowering three girls completely unconnected to you," responded the duke. "Would Bainbridge or Sanderson?"
The duke sighed, "I cannot tell you what to do, son, but, if it were up to me, I would have the girls brought to one of my minor properties and pay to have them raised by a local farmer. In a few years, she and her sisters will have forgotten their real parents, especially since, if the eldest is only four, she may not even know her last name. It is doubtful she knows her father's or mother's names either. Provide them with doweries of £100 each, and the farmer will be able to find them decent husbands of their own when the time comes."
"But, at the same time, if they are Hamilton's daughters, they deserve their share of his eventual inheritance from Bainbridge," countered the marquess. "My father-in-law has fervently stated that his will gives Hamilton or his heirs 50 years after his death to claim their inheritance. He refuses to write his younger son off until he has proof of death."
The marquess ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. "I just cannot take the chance that these girls are not family. I keep picturing Holly and Ivy. If, somehow, they had survived the accident and were found alive, I would hope that someone would care for them and try to find us, and, if they were unable, would love and raise them as their own."
"Do this," suggested the duke, "speak to Bainbridge. If it's possible they are Hamilton's children, he deserves to have a say. If he agrees, have the girls brought to my sister's old cottage outside of Ware. Let Bainbridge determine if he thinks they could be his granddaughters. Then, decide together what to do. If Bainbridge does not believe they belong to Hamilton, the caretaker and his wife would surely agree to care for the girls if you provide a nurse and a maid along with a stipend for their care. Then, put notices in the major newspapers, send out investigators, do whatever you think is necessary to uncover anyone who could be the girls' family. If, after six months or a year, you have not located any family, we can revisit what to do with them."
"Thank you, father," replied Weston gratefully. "I'll go there next."
Soon, the marquess was knocking on the door of his father-in-law's London townhouse. After being shown in and announced by the butler, Weston exchanged greetings and pleasantries with his in-laws before requesting a private interview with the Earl of Bainbridge. Producing the letter, the younger man encouraged his father-in-law to read it before hesitantly making the suggestion that the girls could be Hamilton's. Naturally, the earl was shocked at the suggestion, but, with the few details contained in the letter, he, like Weston, could only speculate. Then, Weston outlined his father's idea for meeting the girls and arranging their care. The earl agreed with the duke's plan, and, before long, a letter was dispatched to the law offices of Gardiner, Thurston, and Phillips.