Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“Three other things you need to know,” Graeme said.
“Later, in the carriage, I mentioned to Morley and Jarrow the call we paid this morning. And I told them you’ve been searching for Lunetta since you returned to London to see if she had the new will.
And when Jarrow asked me if Lunetta had made a demand for money, I told him, none that I’ve seen. ”
Anger rose in her and an overwhelming sense of betrayal.
She managed a nod. “I’ll go and get that letter.”
When she tried to pull away, he gripped her hands more firmly.
“Show me again how to open the panel, please.” He freed a hand and stroked her cheek. “Morley will not be a problem, my love. Jarrow, though, is a magistrate and may feel honor-bound. If he asks any difficult questions, I will answer for you, if you will allow it.”
Tears pricked her eyes and she squeezed them shut against the unwanted moisture.
“I won’t have you lie for me, Graeme. I will answer for myself. Just promise me...” She struggled for words, choking. “The children.”
“Blythe.” She found herself pressed against his shoulder, the uncontrollable shaking she’d experienced that morning threatening.
“I’ll take care of the children. I’ll take care of you.
No matter if you refuse to marry me. No matter if I never have you in my bed.
You have my love and my loyalty. Always. Forever.”
As the astonishing words poured over her, she held very still, soaking in the warmth of him, the solidness of him until her heart and body stopped quaking.
Love and loyalty. Love was precious, often short-lived, and easy enough to be counterfeited. But loyalty—oh, that was a priceless treasure. That was something she yearned for.
She stiffened her spine. Graeme barely knew her. Time would tell if he would give her his loyalty, and if love could last.
She pulled away and patted his chest. “I’ll only hold you to the promise to take care of the children. Now, let me show you again how to operate the panel, and then I’ll go and fetch that other letter.”
Graeme insisted on following her to her bedchamber so that he could escort her into the meeting.
Morley and Jarrow rose when she entered and offered her one of the more comfortable overstuffed wing chairs. She declined and took a seat on a straight-backed chair that Graeme brought over for her. He pulled another chair close to hers, offering her a support she dearly appreciated.
She wouldn’t lie today, though she firmly intended to dance around the truth until she had to drop from exhaustion. She’d had so much practice at that in her marriage.
Graeme nodded to her and began the meeting. “I told Lady Chilcombe what I learned at our gathering this morning, though it was a mere summary. What I didn’t discover was how you, Jarrow and Morley, came to both be in attendance with Mr. Fleming, my solicitor.”
“I wasn’t being deceptive when I left here this morning,” Jarrow said.
“I paid an early call at White’s to see who might have recommendations for physicians.
As it happens, I ran into Ashley and Wellington and Sir William.
The meeting this morning was hastily arranged.
Morley happened along and joined us. We all agreed it was advisable to move the matter to another locale where Lord Vernon had fewer—or no—acquaintances.
Morley also thought to invite Fleming, who he’d spoken with just that morning.
And of course you needed to be included, Chilcombe.
Sir William knew you would respond to an urgent request on his letterhead. ”
“Which just proves,” Morley said, “that even when it comes to government matters things can be done quickly at times.”
“Lord Ashley is keen to go after Diddenton,” Jarrow said. “Word is he’ll find a pocket borough and take a seat in the Commons at the next election. Woe betide Diddenton and others of his ilk when Ashley inherits the earldom.”
The three men recounted the discussion from the meeting while Blythe held her tongue and listened silently.
In truth, she was glad she hadn’t been present and subject to their scrutiny. This was bad enough.
When they were finished, she glanced at Graeme and nodded. “You will want to see this letter,” she said, handing over the money demand she’d received from Lunetta. Graeme had read it before leaving her bedchamber, a frown on his face.
Now, he adjusted his face to conceal his emotions, but he watched Mr. Morley and Mr. Jarrow carefully as they took turns reading.
“Who is Maddy?” Mr. Morley asked.
“A maid molested while in service at Wickworth Hall after it was purchased by Diddenton, and cast out after she was found to be increasing.”
“Ah.”
“She died in childbirth at Bluebelle Lodge. Nicholas is her son.”
“Miss Casale knew you were looking for her,” Mr. Jarrow observed. “Had you made contact before?”
“No. I had a boy ask around about her at the sort of establishments where one might expect to find her, places that I myself could not risk visiting. He was, of course, unsuccessful. I suppose word was passed on to her.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“The day my late husband, died. The servants summoned me to Risley Manor because his time was near. Your father, Mr. Jarrow, was in attendance, along with the doctor. They removed Lunetta from the room and allowed me to stay.”
She’d been allowed that bit of propriety.
Watching him die had been almost as painful as observing the way he’d lived in the years since she’d departed Risley Manor.
He’d escaped the wretched mess he’d created, and though she’d felt some relief at his passing, she knew he’d left a bigger wretched mess that she needed to untangle.
“How did you come to find the house in Soho that Lord Chilcombe said you visited this morning?” Jarrow asked, bringing her back to the matter at hand.
“Through my brother. I haven’t had a chance to discuss the matter with Will, Captain Lynford.
I asked him to make inquiries for me. As a military officer home on leave he would have access to the sort of haunts where one might look for her.
He’d prepared a letter to be sent to me in Hampshire which I read when we arrived in London last night, and I have not yet had a chance to speak at length with him.
He…” She glanced at Graeme. “He was out and about last night, following Lord Vernon and even drinking with him at one of his hells. Will was deathly ill this morning and unable to join us in the drawing room.”
Graeme’s mouth tightened. “I helped him into bed last night and he mentioned Vernon’s name. Did he tamper with Will’s drink?”
“So I believe. It would not be out of character.” She suppressed a shudder.
She’d experienced what Lord Vernon was capable of.
“In his letter, my brother referenced a house in Soho, and I remembered the mention some years ago of a Soho address for Lunetta. Number 13, Bridie Lane. The steward had occasion to send correspondence to that address for her.”
“You have an excellent memory, Lady Chilcombe,” Mr. Jarrow said.
“You are skeptical?” She pushed down a rising panic. Mr. Jarrow might now begin to interrogate her more forcefully. “It was to me a distinctive address.”
Graeme stepped in and told them about the woman they’d met and what she’d said, giving her time to calm herself, as if he sensed her disquiet.
“Was it your intention to pay money for the will, Lady Chilcombe, if that is in fact what she had?” Jarrow asked.
Blythe released a slow breath. Time to dance.
“Five hundred pounds is a great deal of money,” she said. “I couldn’t easily obtain that much. Perhaps not at all. But a smaller amount? Yes, it would be tempting to lay hands on that will.”
“And do what?”
She chewed her lip, thinking. Give them what they would expect.
“It would be tempting to destroy it, if I am being honest. However, if she sold it to Diddenton and he presented it to the court… well…” She tapped her chin, thinking.
“Might such a sale be an illegal act on her part? Might she be questioned, and might her testimony cast scandal on the marquess that would persuade the court to dismiss his claim? Perhaps, in the end, the suit I will have to file against Lord Chilcombe for his predecessor’s violation of the marriage contract would not be required. ”
Graeme reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You know, my dear, whatever happens you will not have to take me to court.”
Mr. Morley’s lips quirked and Mr. Jarrow studied his cup of tea until the embarrassing moment passed.
Graeme, however, still had hold of her hand. She stopped resisting and left it there.
“I believe Lunetta might be dead,” she continued. “The letter might have been written by the other woman at Bridie Lane. Whether she has the will, I don’t know.”
“Have you read the will, Lady Chilcombe?” Mr. Jarrow asked.
“I have read the copy Lord Diddenton submitted to the court.”
That was true.
“And the day your late husband signed it. Did you see it then?”
Ah, now she must dance with a bit more vigor. Though she wasn’t such an actress that she could readily call up tears, she was chagrined to sense moisture welling.
She closed her eyes a moment, reliving the horrible memories of that morning.
“I received an urgent summons to Risley Manor and I went. Archie—Lord Chilcombe—announced to me that he had changed his will. He apologized and told me that Bluebelle Lodge would go to Lord Diddenton to settle a land dispute.”
She’d been both livid with anger and terrified.
“He was so… so intoxicated or drugged, he rambled. He’d simplified things, I remember him saying that.
There’d be no dribs and drabs of money going to various retainers was how he said it.
Imagine? Loyal servants who’d been with the family for years, who might expect to be remembered with a few pounds upon the earl’s death, and who had been provided for in the will Archie signed at the time of our marriage. ”