Chapter Nine #2
“My theory, at this time, is that the couple residing in the house are Charlotte’s maternal grandparents, but if this is a secret, I cannot fathom what purpose it serves.
It also raises the question as to why these people are not Charlotte’s legal guardians and why they have not reached out to you.
To help with my investigation, I should be grateful if you could inform me as to whom this property was left in your brother’s will, or if there are any other specific mentions of it.
“My other queries have been more fruitful.
I found the manufacturer of the carriage in which your brother was driving when the unfortunate accident occurred.
Mr Croxford went to great pains to tell me how safe his vehicles are, which is natural, of course.
However, when I expressed some scepticism as to his bias, he went into lengthy detail, not only about the construction of the carriage but about the nature of the accident.
I believe he has wanted to discuss this with someone for some time.
As the afternoon went on, I began to see his point and if you would like me to provide more details, please write and let me know.
I transcribed our conversation and will otherwise give this to you when I submit my final report.
“Without the carriage in front of me, I cannot truly say that it was tampered with, but given the nature of the incident and the faults that are supposed to have occurred, I do not think the accident was natural. At this time, it is my belief that the deaths of your brother and his wife are a result of foul play. I am sorry for the distress that this will cause you all, but I feel sure that you were expecting something of this nature, or else you would not have involved me. I shall continue with my enquiries.”‘
Edward stopped speaking but his eyes appeared to continue to skim over some text.
Christopher cleared his throat, which felt blocked, the enormity of the contents of the letter taking its time to sink into his soul. ‘Is there more?’
Edward nodded slowly, his skin pale. ‘There is, but it is for me.’
Although Christopher was fairly sure the remains of the letter had to be about Edward’s marriage, the impulse to tease him had died as the rest of the correspondence had left a heavy ache in his chest. As brothers they had not discussed their growing suspicions over Sebastian’s death, but Christopher was fairly sure they had all thought the worst. With every letter Mr Hornel sent, the evidence became ever more damning: Sebastian had been murdered.
Even thinking the words knocked the air out of Christopher and he sank onto the nearest chair, his legs unable to hold him up any longer.
Sebastian, the only brother who had taken the time to play with him when he was a child, was dead, most likely because someone else had taken his life.
When he was small, Christopher had revered his older brother; where Sebastian went, people flocked to him.
He was a natural storyteller who made adults laugh as much as children.
It had only been a few days after his eleventh birthday, when Sebastian had come to tell him that he was moving to America.
Even now, so many years later, Christopher could still feel the echo of the pain that had ricocheted through him.
He hadn’t been able to say goodbye. Hot tears had burned the back of his eyes, but he’d refused to let them fall.
Boys didn’t cry, certainly not sons of dukes.
Sebastian had left, never knowing how much he had meant to Christopher.
He’d pushed the thought of his missing brother to the back of his mind; there was no point thinking about a man who hadn’t wanted to stay.
He’d been a foolish, arrogant young boy who should not have let his pride get in the way.
Christopher could have made the effort to write to him. In fact, he should have done so.
Now, he would never get to see Sebastian again.
Never get to hear him laugh or listen to the comforting sound of his deep voice.
Christopher’s eyes stung and for a horrifying moment, he thought tears might fall onto his cheeks, but he managed to breathe through it.
He hadn’t let grief take over all those years ago and he wasn’t going to now.
Focusing on a spot on the rug in front of him, he concentrated on his most strongly held belief – life was for living, for fun and laughter, and this large, dark pool of blackness that was threatening to swallow him would not do so.
This was all the more reason to stick to his plan.
He would stay in London until the terms of Sebastian’s will were fulfilled and then he was going on his Grand Tour.
Maybe he would go to America too. The world was large, and he was more than happy to get lost in it.
While his resolve settled on him anew, he was vaguely aware of his brothers talking in the background.
They appeared to be discussing security, especially with regards to Charlotte.
Christopher closed his eyes, the thought of something happening to his niece almost too much to bear.
No, he would not go to America. Charlotte had already lost so much; she would not lose one of her uncles.
He would travel but he would always come back to her.
Her life would be full of joy. He intended to make damned sure of that.