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I was about seventeen when my father received a message, telling him that he had inherited a small fortune, and asked him to go to the continent (Europe) to claim it.
In a great hustle and bustle, he and my mother both headed off, taking that opertoonity to travel, and leaving me in the company of my mother's aunt, in London.

I felt that this inhertiance might finally close the gap between Henry and I. Not entirely, of course, but enough.

Sadly not a month after my parents had set out, my aunt received a message; both of my parents had died in a horrific train wreck while passing through the mountains.

There was no inhertiance worth that.

With my father dead, the said fortune did not pass to me, but instead to some other relative I had never heard of.