“No question about it. And frankly, his death came as something of a relief for the family, because he was just about to go on trial for fraud if he had, the company would have undoubtedly gone under.”
“I had absolutely no idea.”
“And that’s not the half of it, my darling, because Jessica’s mother then committed suicide to avoid being charged with Sir Hugo’s murder.”
“I just can’t believe it. She seemed such a respectable girl.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t get any better if you take a closer look at the Clifton side of the family. Harry Clifton’s mother was a well-known prostitute, so he’s never been quite sure who his father was. In normal circumstances I wouldn’t have mentioned any of this,” continued Virginia, “but you don’t need a scandal at this particular time.”
“At this particular time?” queried Priscilla.
“Yes. I have it on good authority that the prime minister is considering putting Robert up for a knighthood, which would of course mean you’d be Lady Bingham.”
Priscilla thought about that for a few moments before she said, “Do you think Jessica knows the truth about her parents? Clive has never so much as hinted at any suggestion of scandal.”
“Of course she knew, but she never intended to tell you or Clive. The little hussy was hoping to get a gold band on her finger before any of this became public. Haven’t you noticed how she’s been winding Robert around her little finger? Promising to paint his portrait was nothing less than a masterstroke.”
Jessica stifled a sob, turned and quickly fled back upstairs.
“What on earth’s the matter, Jess?” Clive asked as she came running into the bedroom.
“Lady Virginia’s been telling your mother that I’m the daughter of a murderer … who killed my father,” she said between sobs. “That … that my grandmother used to be a prostitute and that I’ve only ever been interested in getting my hands on your money.”
Clive took her in his arms and tried to calm her, but she was inconsolable. “Leave this to me,” he said, letting go of her and pulling on his dressing gown. “I’m going to tell my mother I don’t give a damn what Lady Virginia thinks, because nothing is going to stop me marrying you.” He held her in his arms once again, before walking out of the bedroom and marching downstairs straight into the drawing room.
“What’s this pack of lies you’ve been spreading about my fiancée?” he demanded, looking directly at Lady Virginia.
“It’s nothing more than the truth,” replied Virginia calmly. “I thought it was better that your mother found out before you were married, rather than after, when it would be too late.”
“But to suggest that Jessica’s mother was a murderer…”
“Not that difficult to check up on.”
“And her grandmother was a prostitute?”
“I’m afraid that’s common knowledge in Bristol.”
“Well, I don’t give a damn,” said Clive. “I adore Jess, and to hell with the consequences, because I can tell you, Lady Virginia, you won’t stop me marrying her.”
“Clive, darling,” said his mother calmly, “I would think about it for a moment before you make such a rash decision.”
“I don’t need to think about marrying the most perfect creature on earth.”
“But if you were to marry this woman, what would you expect to live on?”
“Fourteen hundred a year will be more than enough.”
“But a thousand pounds of that is an allowance from your father, and when he hears…”
“Then we’ll have to get by on my salary. Other people seem to manage it.”
“Has it never crossed your mind, Clive, where that four hundred pounds comes from?”
“Yes, Curtis Bell and Getty, and I earn every penny of it.”
“Do you really believe that particular agency would employ you if it didn’t have the B
ingham’s Fish Paste account?”