Chapter 15 #2
Blythe heard movement behind her and saw Will whizz by and fly down the stairs. He wore trousers and a shirt, but otherwise, he was barefoot and in deshabille.
“Captain Lynford.” Lord Vernon laughed. “Done in by your labors last night, I see.”
“My labors, my arse,” Will said with a laugh that she knew was forced.
“You’ll be lucky I don’t spew on you, Lord Vernon.
Heard you speaking to Adwick and thought I’d come down and let you know I’m alive.
No thanks to your company last night. What’s your message for my sister? I’ll relay it to her.”
“Will you, Lynford? Oh, I fear it might be too personal for her brother’s eyes.”
Blythe held her breath, praying that Will would see that the weasel was baiting him.
“Oh well, that’s all right,” Will said. “Adwick, fetch a pencil and paper for his lordship and he can write it right here.”
“The hall table—”
“Right where you’re standing, there’s a good lad. I’ll turn around and you can use my back for a desk. It’s alright, Adwick, he won’t stab me with the pencil. You, come here, please,” Will said. “This here’s Chilcombe’s new, er, porter. No livery yet. What’s your name, fellow?”
A low voice grumbled out a name.
“Blythe did need more servants.” She heard the sneer in Lord Vernon’s voice and wondered if he had worked out the Runner’s true role.
“Here’s another new man,” Will said cheerfully. “And here’s Adwick with paper and pencil. Now go ahead and scribble that note and maybe save the long love verses for later. Oh, I said I’d turn around.”
“On second thought,” Lord Vernon said, “I’ll call again when her ladyship finds herself at home.”
“Where are you off to?” Will asked, masking his impertinence with that same cheerful elan. How was he managing it?
She heard the sound of the heavy door closing.
“Bring that chair for the Captain,” Adwick said.
Blythe came out onto the landing and watched her brother plop down. Two of the Runners lingered nearby.
“Keep that bastard away from here,” Will said. “Keep him away from my sister. If he sends a note, I want to see it.”
“Let me see it first, if you please,” Blythe called.
“Where is that weasel off to?” Will grunted. “Demme if I could only follow him.”
“We’ve got someone onto him,” one of the Runners said.
Mr. Fleming—indeed, the man who’d been talking to Morley and Jarrow was the Chilcombe solicitor—had brought news to the meeting.
As soon as Diddenton had filed a challenge to the will, Fleming had begun an investigation into the property dispute.
He’d searched the deeds and documents that had been transferred to Risley Manor from Bluebelle Lodge upon Mr. Davies’ death, as well as tax records at Somerset House and those kept by county offices and the local land tax collectors.
He’d also commissioned another survey of the disputed land.
Diddenton’s claims were at best mistaken, and at worst, utterly fraudulent.
“Reckless of him,” the Lord Lieutenant said before leaving the meeting early with Sir William. “And a grave injustice to Chilcombe’s widow. Can’t have peers dispossessing widows. I suppose he thought that you would be off in another country and uninterested in Lady Chilcombe’s disinheritance.”
“He does not know me,” Graeme said. “This is a matter of honor.”
Wellington nodded. “You’ll have our backing on this, Chilcombe.”
The young earl’s heir who’d organized the meeting took over when the more senior men left.
Lord Ashley was not more than one and twenty but he had a serious mien that brooked no nonsense.
It was in the public’s interest, and the government’s, he said, to take Diddenton down a peg.
More than a peg. To Lord Ashley’s way of thinking, Diddenton ought to be driven from England.
His heir was equally pernicious, as well as son number two.
The only son of Diddenton’s worth anything had been number three, who’d died at Cambridge many years earlier.
And of course, his youngest son, Lord Vernon, everyone knew to be a detestable blot on society.
“Now the question becomes, what step to take next,” Ashley said.
Fleming cleared his throat. “With your permission, Lord Chilcombe, we may present the results of our searches to the court. Although, it might complicate matters if it’s found that the late Lord Chilcombe did indeed execute a new will.”
“If he was in his right mind,” Ashley said. “Pardon me, Chilcombe, but was your late cousin not profoundly addicted to opium and subject to coercion?”
“Given the lack of witnesses, coercion will be hard to prove,” Jarrow said.
“As is the existence of the new will,” Morley said. “Perhaps, Mr. Fleming, Chilcombe, we should wait until we find the nurse who was attending the late earl when he died.”
“Surely she won’t have the will,” Ashley said. “What of Lady Chilcombe? Did she see it?”
Before Graeme could formulate a response that would not be an outright lie, Jarrow spoke up.
“My father was both coroner and magistrate when Sir Morris Pierpont died on the day the new will was supposedly signed, and then later when Lord Chilcombe died. His illness prevents him from speaking, but his notes make no reference to her being questioned about the existence of the will.”
And she would never be questioned if Graeme had any say. It was time to play his last chip. A niggle of guilt told him he should wait until Blythe was present. But on the other hand, as fragile as her emotions had been lately, perhaps he’d best do this without her.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “as it happens, I have come into possession of a letter that sheds more light on this matter. The letter is dated one day before the new will was supposedly executed and was addressed to Diddenton and signed by Lord Vernon. In his letter to his father, Lord Vernon writes that he’d supplied the late Lord Chilcombe with a potent Indian opium and had tasked Sir Morris with adding to this persuasion to get Chilcombe to sign the new will.
He said he anticipated my cousin’s demise soon, after which he, Lord Vernon would take possession of Bluebelle Lodge. ”
Morley let out a long breath. “He’s the youngest son and greatest ne’er do well of the bunch. Diddenton has refused to keep funding him and won’t give him a property. Maybe this is his way of accomplishing that. The plan for the lime pit was all a hum.”
Jarrow’s level frown had Graeme holding his breath, awaiting the question about the provenance of the letter.
“That doesn’t stand up,” Jarrow said, finally. “At least not entirely. There’s got to be another reason for targeting Chilcombe.”
“Consolidating his domain?” Morley mused. “The properties run alongside each other, now that Diddenton’s bought Wickworth Hall.”
“The late Lord Chilcombe was at Cambridge,” Ashley said. “Diddenton’s third son died there in an accident. Chilcombe’s name came up giving testimony at the inquest. Might that be the connection?”
Graeme searched through his memories. “Our families weren’t close,” he said. “I recall some whispering about my cousin being sent down for bad behavior. The grandparents were livid.”
“I’ll look into it,” Jarrow said.
Morley cleared his throat. “I’ll see what I can learn about that also.
However, there may be another motivation.
I beg your pardon, Chilcombe, but it always seemed to me that Lord Vernon had an unnatural interest in your cousin’s wife.
Not speaking ill of the lady, you understand, but of him.
There must have been a reason for her to take herself off to Bluebelle Lodge so often. ”
Graeme thought of the boldness of Lord Vernon’s statements the day he met him, first at White’s and then at the rout that evening.
She won’t be troubling you for support much longer.
Suppose I ought to tell you. Archie felt bad about leaving Blythe nothing.
He asked me to take care of her. Good friends for years, you know. I promised him I’d marry her.
“You may have a point,” Graeme said. “He told me he promised my cousin he would marry her.”
“Thus giving him a backup plan if the new will doesn’t hold,” Morley said.
“Yes, that was my thought also, though you may be right that there’s more to it than merely obtaining the property.”
“Is the lady willing?” Ashley asked.
“Not at all.” Graeme shook his head. “She loathes him, and I’ve assured her that she will always have a home. She is under my protection.”
And right now, he needed to see her, needed to know she was still safe and not haring off trying to pursue the copy of that will on her own.
He stood. “Gentlemen, I must return to Chilcombe House. Lord Ashley, I know that Lady Chilcombe will be grateful for your support. Mr. Fleming, Morley’s recommendation is a wise one. We will wait a few days before approaching the court again.”
He pulled Morley and Jarrow aside as the others were leaving. “Will you ride with me back to Chilcombe House? Lady Chilcombe will want to hear our progress.”
When they had settled into the Chilcombe town carriage, Jarrow turned an assessing gaze on him. “I noted that you didn’t say where you obtained that letter from Lord Vernon to his father.”
“Yes, I did not. I have it in safekeeping.”
“I should like to see it,” he said.
“As would I,” Morley said.
“I also didn’t mention that Lady Chilcombe and I paid a visit to an address in Soho this morning. We did not find Lunetta Casale, but we did speak with another woman whom Blythe recognized as someone who’d visited Risley Manor to attend to her husband. Blythe found the encounter quite unsettling.”
“Attend to her husband…” Morley shook his head. “What did she say about the woman?”
“I did not press her,” Graeme said.
“Well, that will save me some time searching.”
“How did it come about that you knew to look there for her?” Jarrow asked. “You have only just arrived in England.”
He could outright lie, but he’d just as soon save the untruths for more damning issues. “In fact, since her return to London, Lady Chilcombe has been looking for the woman.”
“Why?”
“You can imagine why. To see if she has the signed copy of the will.”
Morley chuckled and shook his head. “No one could blame her if the will—if it exists—disappears.”
“Has the woman sent a demand for money?” Jarrow asked.
As the carriage stopped in front of Chilcombe House, Graeme put on his best diplomatic mask. “None that I’ve seen.”
The answering look Jarrow sent was keen, but he said nothing and climbed out.
While a footman took their hats, Graeme asked Morley and Jarrow to wait for him in the library, then he pulled Adwick aside and asked him to have Lady Chilcombe meet him in his private sitting room.
Blythe watched the arrival of Graeme, the magistrate, and the inquiry agent from the drawing room window.
“They’re back, finally.” Coralie had edged close to her.
She’d remained with Blythe while Lady Hermione and a newly designated nursery maid escorted Nicholas upstairs for tea and some play time with Roddy. Lady Hermione had begged leave to retire to her room and write letters.
“Is that Mr. Morley?” Coralie whispered. “He’s rather handsome.”
Blythe noticed the sly grin on her ward’s face. “What?”
“I do like Mr. Jarrow’s looks, but…” She grimaced. “I don’t appreciate being talked to as if I am a child.”
She gave Coralie a one-armed hug. “You are not a child, and you are not yet a woman. You are a very young lady. And it is one thing for you to think about which gentlemen are handsome, but—”
“But I must behave properly. I know, Godmama. Do not worry, I am not mooning over any gentlemen at present.” The sly smile appeared again. “Do you not wonder why I didn’t mention whether Lord Chilcombe is handsome?”
“I would assume because you are being the sensible, level-headed girl… that is, young lady, I’ve always known you to be.”
Coralie hugged her back. “Yes. Sensible and very observant. Lord Chilcombe is, in strict terms, the least handsome of the three men. Not as wide-shouldered as Mr. Jarrow, or as square-jawed as Mr. Morley. But aside from that, there would be no sense in me mooning over Lord Chilcombe because he only has eyes for you.”
“Coralie.”
“He looks at you the way I sometimes catch Samuel looking at Louisa. I noticed it the first day he came to Bluebelle Lodge. That is why I told him about finding you burning those papers. Because I could see that he cares for you.”
“My lady.” Adwick stood in the doorway. “Lord Chilcombe asked that you join him in his private sitting room.”
Too astonished by Coralie to find words, Blythe nodded to her butler and waved him away. Now was the moment to tell her she was merely burning those nonexistent love letters. But she hated to lie.
“It’s all right, Godmama. May I stay here and read?” Coralie asked. “Nicholas and his new friend found some old tin soldiers and will be setting up a battle.”
She looked long and hard at this girl she’d loved and raised and decided to take the coward’s way out.
Besides, Graeme was waiting for her.
“Of course,” she said.
Coralie’s patience with Nicholas in the carriage the day before had been heroic. Blythe could trust the girl’s common sense.
Mostly, that is. This business of how Graeme looked at her… She would have to, one day, explain to Coralie the difference between admiration and lust.
“Best not to wander around too much just yet. If you need anything, ring for a servant.”
She passed Clive in the corridor just outside Graeme’s suite.
“His lordship is waiting for you, my lady,” the servant said without any sign that he was scandalized by her visit to Graeme’s private domain. He turned back and held the door for her.
How quickly would the word of her visits to Graeme’s bedchamber spread among their servants and those of their neighbors?
“Blythe.” Graeme cast down the letter he was reading and rose from his desk.
The door snicked shut behind her, and he came and took both of her hands. “Morley and Jarrow are in the library. I asked them to come along and meet with you.”
“I see. I thought your meeting was with the Foreign Office. Where did you—”
“Let me explain before we go to them.”
He told her about the private club, the presence of the Lord Lieutenant and the reformer, Lord Ashley, and his surprise at finding both Jarrow and Morley in attendance, as well as Mr. Fleming and his clerk. He briefly summarized their ensuing discussion.
“We are not alone in this battle,” he said. “Diddenton’s claim to Bluebelle Lodge is certainly fraudulent and the will, if there is one, was coerced to cover this fraud. I told them about the letter, and they’d like to see it.”
“Did you tell them how you obtained it?”
“I told them I could not reveal that information. And I don’t intend to.”
She looked down at their joined hands. She had managed, so far, to not lie, at least never under oath.