(The cheque, thought Bessie, which he had spent in getting drunk.)
"I am glad to hear that your health is better and that you are working. I hope you will continue in the same condition, living quietly and respectably and that your health will not again be affected. I have never been to Brighton but hear that the air is good except for those who have livers.
"I am, with best wishes, your aunt
For the only time in her life, Bessie felt faint. She sat down and read the letter through a second time. So the lie she told Teena Bitts had turned out to be true. Mr. Blundon was the cousin of a duke. She felt suddenly dizzy and to steady herself took a drink of what remained in Mr. Blundon's bottle. Then she stared for a time at the frail small figure sleeping on the bed with its mouth open. She thought of Mr. Winnery asking her to marry him. "It ain't true," she told herself. "It's like any blooming nightmare." It was like something she had made up. It was like a cinema. That little thing on the bed was the cousin of a duke.
Overcome with emotion she began to blubber. No, she couldn't turn Mr. Blundon out into the cold—not 'im, the cousin of a duke. He wasn't made to get on in the world. Somebody would have to look after him. Well, she'd explain to Mr. Winnery how she couldn't desert Mr. Blundon.
