Chapter 34
When I walk into Henry Gould’s office the following afternoon, his papers hit the floor—a giant splash of important-looking documents that drop from his hands at the sight of me.
I try not to weep at the sheer joy of having one person in my corner, fighting for me with nothing to gain from it. “They won’t let me near him.”
“You’re—by jolly, you’re alive!” He crosses the strewn papers and embraces me. I stiffen at the familiarity, but no one outside his office seems to notice. He pushes me back by the shoulders, turning stern father. “You’re in heaps of trouble. Have you any idea what you’ve gone and done?”
“Yes, I’ve broken a promise to a small boy, and I’ve no idea how to fix it.
” Sabine St. Laurent won’t leave any loophole for me to pull.
But the terrible reality of it—and how I wish I can tell them this—is that Sabine doesn’t even want Cecil.
That bright and precious child with the elfin ears was a means to an end for her.
But to me, he is the end. With all the time to think on the train, I’m sure of only one thing: he is the goal worth fighting for.
Of all the people who chased my heart in the last years, he is the only one who deserves it.
The only one who has it in full, and who asks nothing in return.
Oh, to wrap him up and hold him steady. To hear his eloquent little voice, and to earn that bright boyish smile reserved for genuinely happy times.
“Merryn, you must gather your senses.” Mr. Gould shuffles together the papers on the floor. “There’s something I must tell you. Has anyone seen you? And Ansel. Has he—”
“Tried to kill me? Yes. But not recently.”
He firmly closes his mouth, which gratifies me. It’s rare.
I straighten. “That first wife…he didn’t kill her. Not all the way. Indeed, you are looking at her.”
He drops the papers onto his desk. “Mrs. Ansel Winthrop. You are—”
“The ‘late’ Mrs. Ansel Winthrop.” I’d been turning the story over in my head, piecing it together. “Yes, I am his first wife. And…well, and his second, too.”
His brow furrows deeply as he lowers into his chair. “Go on.”
I sigh, and my voice is soft. “He found me, apparently. Because I had another inheritance coming to me, and control over a sizable trust.” Tears threaten. “He charmed me all over again—he probably knew exactly how—and now he’s…he’s—”
“And this other man? What of the other marriage?”
“Rupert might have saved me, but as it turns out, our wedding never officially happened. Besides, I married AJ Winthrop before—and after—I met Rupert.” I fidget. “As it stands, I’m married to no one but AJ. I’ll simply stay clear of him, and—”
“Merryn, there’s more to the story.”
“Something good, I hope.” I sigh, collapsing into a chair, head in my hands. “I’m not certain I can handle any more bad turns.”
“The hearing is set for two days from now. They will determine your suitability to inherit. Meanwhile, Miss St. Laurent has offered to negotiate—”
“Yes. Yes, please do it. Whatever she wants, as long as I have Cecil.”
“I’m afraid the negotiations are out of your hands, Merryn. That’s the more.”
A scream catches in my throat.
“Ansel, as your legal husband, took things in hand himself. He’s met with Sabine. They’ve likely already finalized an agreement.”
I clutch the desk. “What agreement?”
“Counter negotiation.”
I swallow, and then I take the paper he holds out and scan it.
Gould summarizes what my eyes are trying to untangle.
“Sabine St. Laurent keeps the entire inheritance Lady St. Laurent left for you, free and clear. In return, she will drop the investigation into your nervous condition. The appointment of a trustee is still under negotiation, but you’d be free of the asylums.”
I laugh, giddy. “AJ has come to my rescue, then. Is that it?” That is what’s happening, isn’t it? But…for my good, or for his purposes? “What of Cecil, Mr. Gould?” I can hardly breathe as I await the answer. “What becomes of him under this new agreement?”
“I don’t know yet. After the initial discussion, Mr. Winthrop took control of his own case. I am no longer a party to this negotiation. I’ve provided my recommendation, but I have no way of knowing whether he took it or not.”
“What did you suggest?”
“That Sabine retains guardianship of the boy, and you retain management of his trust. I don’t trust that woman within ten miles of a large fortune, and her mother didn’t either.”
“No. No, no, no!” Heat drains from my face.
“Give her the fortune and give me Cecil. Please.” He is the treasure she’s not suited to manage.
Money be hanged. I’ll find a way when it comes down to it.
I picture the wistful face at the window, the brightening of his freckled face when he spots me.
“I must speak with AJ. Where might I find him?” If the man wishes to prove himself to me, there is exactly one way he can do that.
But Gould’s brow creases with some knowledge I do not yet have. “What is it now, Mr. Gould?”
“If you’re around him…You’re easily manipulated just now.”
“He wouldn’t dare hurt me now, though. Not before I’m named trustee of that estate. I’m his only link to that fortune, and I won’t inherit if I’m dead.”
“And once the dust settles? He may very well place you in an asylum himself. Forcing Sabine to drop the insanity charges doesn’t mean he won’t use them himself later. Or…”
Murder me again, once he has access to the estate. But we’re two days away from that possibility, and surely I can come up with something in that time. I rise, hands on the desk. “I’m grateful for your concern.”
“Just a moment.” He walks around and perches on the front of his desk, facing me. “Before you confront the man, you need to hear the details of his wife’s…that is, your death.”
I cling to the back of the chair. “Tell me.”
He flips open a file and reads. “Witness statement. Mrs. Buckthorn, Cornwall. Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop, on holiday in Cornwall, had taken rooms in the inn beside her shop and were heard to be arguing loudly. The matter involved Mr. Winthrop attempting to exert control over his wife, and his wife refusing. A crash was heard.”
I cringe. “Sounds like many married couples.”
He holds up a finger. “Second witness statement. Mrs. Winthrop was spotted in the couple’s hired carriage along the coastal road by one Mr. Danvers of Whitby Lane.
The conveyance came down the road at a dangerous pace, then suddenly sped up with such reckless abandon that the witness feared for his safety.
He ran out to stop it, but the vehicle flew around a cliff, tipped off the edge and rolled down the embankment into the water.
When he made his way to the cliff—it was an especially windy day, and it took him some time—he saw Mrs. Winthrop struggling in the water, and though the witness attempted a rescue, she was swept out to sea.
Mr. Winthrop was spotted above, on the coastline, looking down upon the accident.
Though he claimed later to have not been with his wife at the time. ”
I shiver uncontrollably. AJ did that to me. Wanted it to happen. “What of the woman who was…was buried? As me?”
He sighs. “The mangled remains of a woman matching your description were located by a pair of fishermen off the coast weeks later. Mr. Winthrop identified the body, dressed only in a shift, and buried her. They couldn’t prove anything concerning her cause of death, with the condition of her remains, so the matter was labeled misadventure.
“But then the witness statements came forth, citing the argument. The large fortune. Mr. Winthrop then claimed he was not even in the carriage. He maintained his innocence each time, persuading the barrister in a most compelling manner to drop the charges. Which…he did.”
Compelling. Yes, that describes AJ. “Then he spent my money.”
“I’m afraid it seems that way. It was gone very quickly, from what I can tell.” He places a hand on mine. “He’s about to lay hold of what he wants once again, Merryn. He’ll have full control of what should be Cecil’s estate. I know you care for the boy, so consider his future.”
I am dizzy. I do consider his future, and his present circumstances. My head wishes to float away and I forcefully wrangle it into place.
His hand tightens on mine. “You mustn’t try to approach him. He’s charming. Deceptive. And there’s one other complication.”
I snort. “What, another wife?”
“He’s already been cleared of your murder. Which means—”
“He’s unlikely to be charged for it again now.”
“It’d be terribly difficult. Especially attempting to prove he buried the wrong woman before if the right one—you—are also dead.
There’s a good chance he’d wheedle out of such a complicated mess.
Promise me, Merryn. Promise you’ll allow me to handle this.
Perhaps you’d consider a trip to the countryside.
I can arrange for you to stay with my sister, if that suits. ”
I frown. Tap my foot. “May I see the inquisition notes?”
He hands me the file. I skim to find what I need.
“Do I have your word, Merryn? That you’ll leave this to me?”
I back toward the door. “Mr. Gould, the surest way to convince me to do a thing is to tell me not to.”
“Merryn—”
“I have many skills, Mr. Gould. Obeying isn’t one of them. I do appreciate your concern.” I slip out the door before he can stop me. There are things more important than safety.
“Mrs. Winthrop! Merryn!”
But I stop for no one. I take to the sidewalk, moving quickly and repeating the address listed for AJ in the file—likely the one we once shared.
Sometimes going back is the only way to go forward.