Chapter 65
They found Vereker in the estate room finishing up his quarterly review of rents and expenditures with Mr. Spalding, King’s Head estate manager for seventeen years.
Graham had spent little time with him yet.
He was a square man both face and body who’d reached his fiftieth year, and had, Blakeney had told them, a brain stuffed with so many facts he spewed them on anyone within hearing.
“Many times I fear I’ve wanted to smack him, I mean, who wants to know how many children Queen Isabella of Spain produced?
Of course he keeps his trap shut when he is with his lordship. ”
Vereker looked up, smiled at them, waved them in, thanked Mr. Spalding and sent him on his way. Mr. Spalding bowed to Cam and Graham, opened his mouth, thought better of it, and left them.
Vereker stopped smiling. He rose slowly and came around his desk. “Spalding shows restraint upon occasion. Come in. You’re still feeling fit, Cam?”
“Yes, sir.” She walked to her father-in-law, hugged him, kissed his cheek. “I am ready to waltz with you, sir. Blakeney assures me you are a better dancer than your son, who perhaps, when he’s not concentrating on his steps, jumps around like an ostrich.”
“Unfair and a lie,” Graham said. “You told me I danced like a prince.”
Vereker met his son’s eyes, Madeline’s eyes, and he thought, If only you could see your son, Madeline. If he could only remember he would see himself in you—
Graham took his father’s arms in his hands. “Sir, it’s time, past time, we faced this head-on. You know as well as we do the person who took Simon and me also tried to kill me again, here and in Ventnor. Cam and I know you’ve given this endless thought as have we. Who do you think it is?”
Vereker said slowly, “I can see it in your eyes, both of you.” He sighed.
“There can be no one else, I know that in my gut but still I don’t want to accept it.
I ask myself why? How is that possible?” He turned and walked to the fireplace, stood silently, staring down into the glowing embers.
He said without turning, “But like you, I’ve examined this every way I can think of, I still cannot understand why.
Tally loved you, Graham, both you and Simon.
I remember so clearly how the only times he seemed really happy was when he was with you boys.
He taught you archery, he took you fishing, he—” His voice fell off a cliff.
Cam saw the pain in his eyes but she didn’t stop, she couldn’t.
“Sir, I’m very sorry, but Graham’s life is in the balance.
Since he cannot remember, it is you who must remember for him.
You must face this head-on.” She studied his face, stiff, his eyes pain filled.
“Sir, do you believe Tally would kill two young boys—his nephews—to become your heir?” She paused, watching him shake his head.
“Sir, would he kill any more boys if you had remarried? Would he kill you?”
Vereker looked as if she’d struck him. He started to shake his head, then he said slowly, “I’ve told you when Tally came back from fighting at Waterloo, he was changed, everyone saw it. He wanted to be alone. He built the cottage in the eastern woods. For years he only dined here once a month.
“But he loved both you and Simon, I know that to the deepest part of me. But now? After Ventnor and the falling beam at the abbey ruins that could have so easily killed you? If he did these things, and yes, I know I must accept there is simply no other choice, but listen, I would swear to you he simply never wanted my title, my birthright. That wasn’t what Tally was ever about.
He loved life, loved being a soldier, told me he was born for it—until he came back from Waterloo.
And wouldn’t that mean he’d abhor violence?
That he would protect Graham and Simon with his life? ”
Neither Graham nor Cam said a word, merely stood quietly watching him.
Vereker said finally, “So it makes no sense unless he is mad.”