evidence that he thought her as venal as he.
‘My fortune is already too great, sir, and achieved by means that I detested!’
Too great a fortune was not a concept Broseley could understand. By now he was rigid with the effort of holding onto his temper in the face of his daughter’s defiance.
‘I do not believe that one can ever have too much wealth, my dear Alicia,’ he said, condescension just winning over annoyance in his tone.
‘Then that is the difference between us!’ Alicia snapped furiously. Her headache was worsening and she took a sip of the unwanted Madeira in an effort to help clear her thoughts. It had never been a favourite drink of hers and the taste of the wine was strong and cloyingly sweet. Already her head was starting to spin and the edges of the room were beginning to blur in the dark and the heat from the fire. Sweet wine, but with a slight, bitter aftertaste which was almost undetectable…She put her glass down again with such a jolt that some of the liquid splashed onto the table.
She might be mistaken, of course, but her father appeared to favour such drinks as this. He had given her a sweet, drugged wine to soften her resistance once before: when she had refused to marry George Carberry. Alicia looked at the glass pensively. There was no way of telling if this drink had been doctored, but drugged wine and an overpoweringly hot room would combine to make her feel very ill…so unwell that she would probably be unable to leave Greyrigg and would be vulnerable once again to Broseley’s machinations for her future.
Alicia shivered convulsively. The shock had helped to clear her head. She could see the gardens outside in the pale sunlight and hear the birds twittering in the gutters, but here in this dark room it was possible to believe that Bertram Broseley was capable of anything. To him it would only be a means to achieving an end. He was watching her intently.
‘I do not care much for your taste in wine, Father,’ she observed as coldly as she could. ‘And I care as little for your plans. Now let me be quite plain. I do not wish to invest in your business and I do not wish to remarry. You may tell this mysterious suitor that I have no desire to be treated as yet another commodity!’
‘Indeed, my dear, you wrong my colleague,’ Broseley murmured, with a smile Alicia neither liked nor understood. ‘You are fair and far out in thinking that he would have taken Annabella—it was always you he meant to marry!’
‘My money, you mean!’ Alicia snapped, refusing to fall for this appeal to her feminine vanity. ‘How fortunate that you broached the subject with me first, Father—I have a dislike of being rude to complete strangers!’
‘But no compunction over showing your father a most unfilial ingratitude!’ Bertram Broseley was now letting his anger get the better of him. ‘Your duty as my daughter should at least prompt you—’ He broke off as Alicia made a noise indicative of her contempt.
‘Come now, sir, that is taking it too far, even for you! You lost the right to ask for such filial respect seven years ago!’
Broseley’s nature had always been choleric, especially when crossed.He had been keeping a hold on his temper for a long time, but now his face suffused with blood and he brought his fist down on the arm of his chair with a force which made the dust rise in a choking cloud.
‘I see that you are still the same ungrateful chit you were those seven years ago, miss! To whom do you owe your pretty little title and your fine fortune? Had I not exerted myself for your benefit you would have thrown yourself away on that wastrel who was wild to a fault and spent all his money at his tailor’s or in the gambling clubs! Who was it who arranged the wedding settlements so that you would inherit all George Carberry’s wealth and property? And how did you repay me?’ He did not wait for an answer. ‘By running to your grandmother when my back was turned and
‘My fortune is already too great, sir, and achieved by means that I detested!’
Too great a fortune was not a concept Broseley could understand. By now he was rigid with the effort of holding onto his temper in the face of his daughter’s defiance.
‘I do not believe that one can ever have too much wealth, my dear Alicia,’ he said, condescension just winning over annoyance in his tone.
‘Then that is the difference between us!’ Alicia snapped furiously. Her headache was worsening and she took a sip of the unwanted Madeira in an effort to help clear her thoughts. It had never been a favourite drink of hers and the taste of the wine was strong and cloyingly sweet. Already her head was starting to spin and the edges of the room were beginning to blur in the dark and the heat from the fire. Sweet wine, but with a slight, bitter aftertaste which was almost undetectable…She put her glass down again with such a jolt that some of the liquid splashed onto the table.
She might be mistaken, of course, but her father appeared to favour such drinks as this. He had given her a sweet, drugged wine to soften her resistance once before: when she had refused to marry George Carberry. Alicia looked at the glass pensively. There was no way of telling if this drink had been doctored, but drugged wine and an overpoweringly hot room would combine to make her feel very ill…so unwell that she would probably be unable to leave Greyrigg and would be vulnerable once again to Broseley’s machinations for her future.
Alicia shivered convulsively. The shock had helped to clear her head. She could see the gardens outside in the pale sunlight and hear the birds twittering in the gutters, but here in this dark room it was possible to believe that Bertram Broseley was capable of anything. To him it would only be a means to achieving an end. He was watching her intently.
‘I do not care much for your taste in wine, Father,’ she observed as coldly as she could. ‘And I care as little for your plans. Now let me be quite plain. I do not wish to invest in your business and I do not wish to remarry. You may tell this mysterious suitor that I have no desire to be treated as yet another commodity!’
‘Indeed, my dear, you wrong my colleague,’ Broseley murmured, with a smile Alicia neither liked nor understood. ‘You are fair and far out in thinking that he would have taken Annabella—it was always you he meant to marry!’
‘My money, you mean!’ Alicia snapped, refusing to fall for this appeal to her feminine vanity. ‘How fortunate that you broached the subject with me first, Father—I have a dislike of being rude to complete strangers!’
‘But no compunction over showing your father a most unfilial ingratitude!’ Bertram Broseley was now letting his anger get the better of him. ‘Your duty as my daughter should at least prompt you—’ He broke off as Alicia made a noise indicative of her contempt.
‘Come now, sir, that is taking it too far, even for you! You lost the right to ask for such filial respect seven years ago!’
Broseley’s nature had always been choleric, especially when crossed.He had been keeping a hold on his temper for a long time, but now his face suffused with blood and he brought his fist down on the arm of his chair with a force which made the dust rise in a choking cloud.
‘I see that you are still the same ungrateful chit you were those seven years ago, miss! To whom do you owe your pretty little title and your fine fortune? Had I not exerted myself for your benefit you would have thrown yourself away on that wastrel who was wild to a fault and spent all his money at his tailor’s or in the gambling clubs! Who was it who arranged the wedding settlements so that you would inherit all George Carberry’s wealth and property? And how did you repay me?’ He did not wait for an answer. ‘By running to your grandmother when my back was turned and
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