Chapter Six #2
The solicitor said, “Lord Treatley demanded that your maid produce all your jewelry after he had you whisked away. Martha told him only you knew where the key to the jewelry box was. The girl is quite clever, my lady. As you were being forcibly removed from the house, Martha went to where you kept your jewelry and hid it. When she said she had no idea where the key was, Lord Treatley grew frustrated and smashed it to the ground, breaking it open. Of course, he found nothing inside it. He dismissed Martha, without references, on the spot, blaming her for the missing jewelry.”
Lady Treatley gasped. “Oh, it is just like him.”
“Martha brought the jewels to me for safekeeping, not keeping anything for herself. She recalled accompanying you to my offices when the marriage settlements were signed. She told me how you were forcibly removed from your home. I was looking into where you had been taken when I was approached by Mr. Larkin and informed of the work His Grace does. Your jewels are safely at the bank we will visit tomorrow, my lady.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I must speak with Martha now.”
They went to the conference room, and both mistress and maid burst into tears upon seeing one another, clinging to each other. Lady Treatley thanked the servant for her quick thinking and good heart.
“I know not what household you went to, Martha, but I am leaving town, never to return. Would you come with me?”
Matthew noticed how Lady Treatley did not name where she was going. She was just as canny as her lady’s maid. What Mr. Damley did not know, he could not reveal to others.
“I haven’t found work yet, my lady. Without references, it’s almost impossible to find a decent position.
Mr. Damley here was kind enough to give me a reward for bringing your jewels to him, something to tide me over.
I knew he would keep them safe for you. You always spoke so highly of him. I knew he could be trusted.”
Lady Treatley turned to Mr. Larkin. “I must acknowledge your role in my escape from that madhouse, sir. I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me.”
“Happy to do so, my lady,” Larkin said easily.
Matthew said, “I think that concludes our business for today. Mr. Damley, meet us at the bank tomorrow morning at a quarter till nine. Larkin, keep to your current investigation and notify me when you have something to share.”
They left the offices, and Matthew said to Martha, “We will go to where you are staying now. You are to pack your things and come with us. Do not speak to anyone.”
His carriage took them to a neighborhood where ducal carriages were rarely seen. He told Lady Treatley to remain inside the carriage, and Matthew went inside with Martha, watching her pack her meager belongings.
“Go directly to the carriage. I will speak to your landlord.”
He paid the landlord a healthy amount, which covered Martha’s rent until the end of the year, adding five guineas on top of it.
“If anyone comes looking for Martha, she left for a new position. You do not know where it was, but you think it might have been in York. I am a duke—and I will know if you share what you shouldn’t.” He paused. Almost whispering now, he threatened, “I will come and find you. And make you pay.”
“Yes, my lord,” the nervous landlord said, pocketing what amounted to a bribe buying the man’s silence in case anyone came looking for the lady’s maid.
He did not think Lord Treatley would manage to hire someone to track down his wife anytime soon, much less her lady’s maid. If an investigator did find this is where Martha had stayed, Matthew felt certain the landlord would reveal nothing, leading to a dead end.
In the carriage, they explained to Martha how Lady Treatley would no longer go by that name.
He told Lady Treatley not to use her alias or share it with Martha until they were safely at their destination.
He made certain not to mention it. The less the servant knew about where they were headed, the better.
He did tell Martha that Lady Treatley would be traveling as Mary Smith tomorrow, and Martha was to refer to her employer as Mrs. Smith.
“Do I get to have a new name, too?” she asked eagerly.
“You may take one on the mail carriage, but do not share it unless specifically asked,” he cautioned. “When you reach your final destination, it is up to you whether or not you wish to remain Martha or become someone new.”
They returned to his townhouse in Mayfair. By now, his servants knew not to ask questions about sudden guests. The new arrivals shared a room and took their dinners on a tray in that room. The less contact his servants had with the two women, the better.
The next morning, Matthew escorted them to the bank, telling Martha to remain inside the carriage. Both women brought their valises with them since they would leave straight for the mail coach after this morning’s appointment.
Mr. Damley met them in front of the bank, along with Lady Treatley’s physician. Matthew wanted the doctor present in case Lady Treatley’s mental status was called into question.
They entered the bank. Matthew gave his name, and they were immediately taken into the office of the man who managed this branch. He had been made aware of the topic of discussion by Mr. Damley.
“I find this highly unusual, Your Grace,” the man began.
Staring coldly, Matthew said, “And I find it highly unusual that you would begin handing over funds to Lord Treatley which do not legally belong to him.”
“But . . . but . . .” the bank manager sputtered. “He is Lady Treatley’s husband.”
“Legally, he was never to gain access to those funds,” Matthew said. “Yet you gave him access to those funds.”
He reached out a hand, and Mr. Damley handed him a copy of the marriage settlements, which Matthew slapped onto the desk.
“This copy is for you. Read the marked passages,” he demanded.
They sat in silence while the bank officer perused the contract.
“I see,” he said when he had finished. “But Lord Treatley said that Lady Treatley had been placed in an asylum. That she no longer had her faculties and could not make decisions regarding these funds. He even brought a doctor with him, attesting to her condition. As her husband, naturally, control then fell to him.”
“You have yet to look at me,” Lady Treatley said haughtily. “Do so. Now,” she demanded.
Reluctantly, he met her gaze.
“Do I look mad to you? This was all a ruse so that my husband might get his hands on what was not his. He is a gambler and a liar. Treatley cannot be trusted. You took his word, not that of my physician.”
She looked now at her doctor, and he cleared his throat.
“I have treated Lady Treatley for several years, and I find her perfectly sane. You should have asked many more questions than you did, sir, before acting so rashly and putting those funds at Lord Treatley’s disposal.
Whoever Lord Treatley paid off to come here and tell you that his wife had gone mad is a liar and a disgrace to the medical profession.
” He sniffed. “That is, if he was even a doctor.”
Lady Treatley took command of the conversation again. “How much has my husband removed from my account?”
The bank manager consulted a document on the desk and named a figure. It was not excessively large, and Mattthew knew that was usually the case in these instances. Once access had been gained to an account, withdrawals were slow at first, testing the waters. Then they came rapidly after that.
“Lord Treatley told me he took the funds for your care. That is all,” the manager said, sounding defensive.
“What he removed is ten times what he was paying for my supposed care,” she said bitterly.
He spoke up. “I expect the bank to make good on these missing funds. Immediately. Else I shall go to the newspapers and give them the entire story, as well as take the matter to court.”
His threat hung in the air a moment.
Visibly trembling now, the bank officer said, “Of course, Your Grace.”
“We shall now remove Lady Treatley’s funds.
See to the missing money being replaced and a transfer now.
” He named a bank which had a branch in Bath, and the manager excused himself, leaving them in his office.
Matthew also told the physician his presence was no longer needed, and he, too, left the office and bank.
“The funds will be in Lady Treatley’s name.
I do not believe anyone at this bank will reveal to Lord Treatley where the funds were transferred once he returns here to dip from the account.
” Matthew looked to Mr. Damley. “When we conclude our business here, you are to go to the new bank. Meet with its chief officer, explaining this delicate situation. As we mentioned earlier, Lady Treatley will be living under an assumed name, and she will need to access her funds using it. Have the change made to the name we shared with you today so that when she arrives at her destination, she will be able to access them.”
“I will do so, Your Grace,” the solicitor promised. “I will be as discreet as possible.”
Matthew provided Damley with the new name, swearing the solicitor to secrecy. Then he said, “If you have any trouble in arranging this, make use of my name. If that is not enough, send word to my townhouse. I will stop by the bank and make certain things are accomplished to my satisfaction.”
“It would be good to have something from Lady Treatley’s hand,” Mr. Damley suggested. He went to the desk and removed a sheet of paper. “Sit here, my lady. Write just a brief note, using both names, and signing as each. I will take it with me.”
She did so, and shortly after, the bank manager returned.
“It is done,” he said, his face pale. “I used a discretionary fund to replace the missing monies from Lady Treatley’s account. Her account here is now closed, and her banknotes have been transferred to her new bank.” He swallowed. “Is there anything else I can assist you with, Your Grace?”
“No,” Matthew said flatly, not bothering to thank the man.
They left the offices, dropping Mr. Damley at the new bank. Lady Treatley insisted on going in with the solicitor, afraid the letter she had penned would not be enough. Matthew joined them. Their business was quickly handled, and they parted from Mr. Damley.
“Write to me, my lady,” the solicitor said. “I wish to know you are safe.”
“I will do so, Mr. Damley. Thank you for all your assistance.”
Matthew’s coachman took them to the nearest location, and he had the driver purchase the pair of mail coach tickets to Bath. It would be too noticeable for a duke to do this. The coachman returned, handing the tickets over to him through the window.
“The next coach leaves in half an hour, Your Grace.”
“Very good.”
He gave the tickets to the new Mrs. Hall, saying, “Here you are, Mrs. Smith. I also request that you write to me once you are settled.”
“I will do so, Your Grace,” she promised, leaning over and brushing a kiss upon his cheek. “You are an angel.”
Mrs. Hall and her servant left the carriage, carrying their valises and joining the line his coachman directed them to.
The gown Miss Vines had sewed for Lady Treatley was plain and serviceable.
She would not stand out in the crowd. Matthew waited until he saw them board the vehicle before he tapped on the roof, signaling his driver they could now leave.
He returned to his townhouse, telling the coachman they would head for Redfield in the morning. As he closed his eyes that night, Matthew fell into a deep, satisfying sleep, knowing he had helped another damaged dove.