The Fortunes of the Farrells
Vaizey Mrs. George de Horne
English
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Below is a summary of The Fortunes of the Farrells
The Fortunes of the Farrells
By Mrs George de Horne Vaizey
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Old Mr Bernard Farrell is known to be immensely rich. No one in his
family has seen him for ages. Suddenly he turns up, and is invited to
stay for a few days, as he isn't very well. His proposition is, that he
would like various of his nephews and nieces to come and stay with him
for quite a long time, so that he might gauge which of them should
receive the greater part of his wealth after he dies.
The house-part duly convenes, and they don't find him a very agreeable
host, but for the most part they persevere. He has made a preliminary
will "in case of accident". He is trying to keep this will secret, and
of course the young people are all agog to know what is in it. One day
he accidentally leaves his desk open, and realises that someone has been
at his desk, and has read the will. He calls all the young people to
his bed, and asks them point-blank who it was. Of course he gets
various kinds of answer, from the offended, to the frightened and cowed.
But by chance he finds out exactly who had peeked into his desk and read
the will. We won't spoil the story for you, but would say this: that
it is as good a Horne Vaizey story as any, even the earlier Pixie books.
NH
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THE FORTUNES OF THE FARRELLS
BY MRS GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY
CHAPTER ONE.
FROM PRETENCE TO REALITY.
"Berengaria, what do you generally do with your old court trains? How
do you use them up?"
The fire had died down to a dull red glow; only one tiny flame remained,
which, flickering to and fro, showed a wide expanse of floor, and two
easy-chairs drawn up before the fender, on which reclined vague,
feminine figures. The voice which had asked the question was slow and
languid, and breathed a wearied indifference to the world in general,
which was more than equalled in the tone of the reply--
"Really, don't you know, I can't say! I put them away, meaning to use
them for cloaks or evening-dresses; but I forget, or they get mislaid,
or the maid confiscates them for her own purposes. I expect, as a
matter of fact, she makes them up into Sunday blouses."
"You spoil that woman, dear! You are so absurdly easy-going that she
robs you right and left. Do take my advice, and give her notice at
once!"
"I couldn't, darling, even to please you! It bores me so to deal with
strangers, and no one else could do my hair like Elsie. If it pleases
her to use up a few of my garments, why shouldn't the poor soul have her
pleasure like the rest? That reminds me, Lucille--are you going to the
duchess's ball to-night? I suppose it is superfluous to ask, since no
entertainment is complete without you nowadays."
"Oh, I suppose so! If I am not too fagged, that is to say. But I have
a dinner first, and two At-homes, and people make such a fuss if you
don't put in an appearance. One hardly feels up to dancing after
struggling through two of the asphyxiating mobs dignified by the name of
entertainments; still, I promised Arthur the cotillion, and he will be
desolated if I play him false; and I have a new frock for the occasion
which is really rather a dream. Silver tissue over satin, and shoulder-
straps of diamonds. I had them reset on purpose. I spend quite a
fortune on resetting jewels nowadays; but one must be original, or die!"
"My dear, you will be too bewitching! Lord Arthur will be more
desperate than ever. My poor little self will be nowhere beside you!
I'm going to be sweet and simple in chiffon and pearls. Paquin made the
gown. Don't ask what it cost! I tore up the bill and threw it in the
fire. Really, don't you know, it made me quite depressed! So
perishable, too! I expect I shall be in rags before the evening is
over. But it's quite sweet at present--all frilly-willys from top to
toe. I do love to be fluffy and feminine, and my pearls really are
unique! The princess examined them quite carefully when I met her last
winter, and said she had rarely seen finer specimens. I wouldn't wear
them at all unless they were good. I cannot endure inferior jewels!"
The speaker lolled still more luxuriously in her chair, then started
forward, as the door opened with a bang, and a harsh voice accosted her
by name--
"Miss Mollie, your mother wants to know if you have finished darning the
socks? She is putting away the clean clothes, and wants to sort them
with the rest."
The Lady Lucille--otherwise Mollie Farrell, the penniless daughter of an
impoverished house--jumped up from her chair, and clasped her hands in
dismay. In blissful contemplation of imagining chiffons and cotillions,
the prosaic duties of reality had slipped from her mind, and
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