Chapter 20
In Thornefield’s library, a curious little band assembled to face the question at hand.
Adrian stood by the mantle and surveyed the group.
On the settee, Dr. Ashcombe and his wife sat with untouched tea cups in their hands.
They had been sent for even before Adrian arrived at Thornefield that afternoon, and had come on the heels of Oliver and Honoria.
His sister was sitting on a chair, and Oliver stood just behind her, a notebook in hand. Mrs. Hollis was perched primly on a straight-backed chair behind a desk, taking notes as well, and Rosalind sat on the window seat. Adrian kept glancing at her, to make certain she was well.
He had seen the fear and nerves coursing through her when he first strode up to the estate, and he still did not know all that had passed between her and Drake. Whatever it was, he could see it was not pleasant.
“Here are my suspicions,” he began calmly, taking lead of the group in a way he had not since his days leading men into battle.
“I believe Mrs. Vane, Mr. Crewe, and Mr. Drake are working as one. The forged will is a lever plied against the situation, and the discovery of the school is the finishing weapon.”
“To what end?” Rosalind asked, pressing a hand to her temple. “That is what confuses me—and who is pulling the strings? Are they all working for Edmund? It seems odd to me that he would have such control.”
“I have that same question,” Adrian said gravely. “There are multiple agendas at play. Perhaps it is all about Mr. Crewe’s overtaking of the estate, or perhaps they are simply colluding to make you an easier mark for Sir Percival—”
“That will no longer be a part of their plan,” Rosalind said quietly. “I have been clear with him on that point, and he cannot think, no matter what tragedy befalls, that the situation will change in his favor now.”
Adrian thought, not for the first time, that she was one of the strongest women he had ever met. There was a simplicity about her calm, drawn from deep and carefully-tended reserves, that impressed him even now, as they faced a crisis together.
“Maybe,” Honoria interjected quietly, having finally caught up to the full story.
She and Oliver had received the bare minimum on their walk to Thornefield from Adrian, but it had taken her some time to wrap her mind around the school, the will, and the real threat beneath it all.
“Maybe Seraphina hired them both. They have their own interests, yes, but she has a strong one as well.”
“And what is that?” Mrs. Ashcombe asked.
Adrian shook his head dismissively. “That is not directly relevant—”
“She wishes to marry him, of course,” Honoria said quickly. “If you were at the assembly you would have seen it clearly. She has debts, in the city, and would very much like a handsome viscount—”
“Sister.” Adrian stopped her with a quiet word, his eyes on Rosalind.
It was not proper to discuss such a thing in mixed company anyway, but his eyes were primarily for the woman in the window seat, whose gaze was miserably fixed on her fingers in her lap.
Is it possible she thinks Seraphina has a chance with me?
It seemed ludicrous to Adrian, but then he remembered his own jealousy when Sir Percival had first entered Rosalind’s life. He cleared his throat, and redirected the conversation as gracefully as possible.
“We do not yet fully understand the motivation,” he went on quietly, “but we know the immediate aim—to use the school as a reason to wrest control of Thornefield from Miss Thorne. We are not going to let that happen.”
“And how,” Mrs. Hollis said softly, “do you intend to stop it?”
“We have three days, and more support than you imagine, Miss Thorne,” Adrian went on. “We shall begin with the house itself. The school kitchen must be entirely a kitchen again by Friday, as must be the parlor and any room the girls have ever been in.”
“We do most of our scientific discovery in the kitchens,” Mrs. Ashcombe explained, “but there are certainly books and primers in the smaller schoolroom upstairs, as well as the drawing room and even this library.”
“We will not manage it all alone,” Mrs. Hollis said quietly. “Not in such a short time, when the situation requires a fine-tooth comb to be drawn across the entire space.”
“Then we will get help,” Adrian said. “Mrs. Hollis, send word to a few of the older girls—ones you have learned to trust implicitly—to come to the kitchen yard before breakfast. They can help you, Mrs. Ashcombe, and Miss Thorne put all the supplies away. We will gather everything in a central location, and then take it by wagon to the Marwood Dairy.”
He looked at Rosalind and she nodded. “I have already spoken with Miss Thorne about this possibility, and she agrees it may be a safer location moving forward.”
“That is all very well,” Dr. Ashcombe said, “but what of the will? I have read it myself, and find it concerning in the extreme.”
“Indeed,” Adrian said. “We must address the will on two fronts. Firstly, we need to find our own character letters from the tenants, tradesmen, curate—”
“The curate will not write me a character letter if he thinks a school is involved,” Rosalind interjected quietly.
Adrian smiled for the first time since gathering the group in the library. “On that front, you are mistaken, Miss Thorne.”
“How?” she asked.
Adrian raised his eyebrows and nodded to Dr. Ashcombe. “Doctor?”
Dr. Ashcombe sighed. “I believe,” he said quietly, “that the good curate has known for some time. Two years or more. He approached me about the matter because one of the girls confessed it to him during a crisis of conscience.
He could not, at the time, be openly involved with the school. He was a newly installed curate, and fearful of losing his position. He is, however, more amenable to the matter than you would imagine. He is a progressive little man, for all his Oxfordian credentials.”
Rosalind’s face registered her shock. “Why on earth did you not tell me?”
“He asked me not to. He did not want word getting around that he knew of the school and permitted it.” Dr. Ashcombe smiled weakly. “I thought to allow him his secrecy, since he did not aim to interfere.”
“Dr. Ashcombe,” Adrian said gravely, “we may need some interference from him now, in a positive way. Will you please go with your lovely wife to anyone in the community you think would be willing to provide a character reference as to Miss Thorne’s suitability in her position?
For those that know of the school, it is imperative that they do not share that knowledge in their testimony. ”
Dr. Ashcombe nodded, and took his wife’s hand. Both looked pale, but determined.
“And what of us?” Honoria asked, nodding to Oliver.
Adrian turned to his friend. “I know it is much to ask, considering the distance, but I dearly need you to ride to London tonight with a copy of Crewe’s false will and the solicitor’s findings on Drake.
Speak with my solicitor about the will and investigate the witnesses with his assistance.
I know you will not have much time to accomplish this, but if you can find even one mistake in the proceedings, it will slow the inquiry. ”
“It will be done,” Oliver said quietly. His hand, on the back of Honoria’s chair, rested very close to her shoulder.
Adrian turned to his sister. “If you are able to remain here at Thornefield until the inspection is over, Honoria, I believe it would be of great assistance to the cause. The only thing we are missing is a pair of eyes that is new to the estate and the school. You may see things that the other women overlook because they are so used to seeing them. Habit will be our enemy in this.”
“Of course,” Honoria agreed. “I will send for my things at once.”
The group waited in silence, their eyes on Adrian. He turned to Rosalind. “What think you of this plan, Miss Thorne?”
She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips. “It is a good one,” she said. “I am grateful I did not have to fashion it myself. I will tend to Harry—explaining everything. I am certain he will wish to help in any way he can.”
“Indeed,” Adrian said gravely, “but I think his desire to help may be eclipsed by his quick temper should Mr. Crewe overstep his bounds. What think you of finding him outside occupation on the day of the inspection?” He watched her carefully.
“Perhaps he could take the cob for a quiet solo ride around the grounds?”
She looked back at him levelly, swallowing hard. “Do you think he is ready for such an excursion?”
“I do,” Adrian agreed.
She nodded but said nothing more.
As the group dispersed to their individual tasks, the room slowly emptied. In the end, it was only Adrian and Rosalind who remained. Rosalind had not moved from her place on the window seat, her face drawn and pale.
Adrian wanted to walk to her and draw her into an embrace, but he did not. Instead, he stood a proper distance away with the fire at his back. Whatever the coming days bring,” he said quietly, “you will not face it alone. Do you see it now? Your friends are legion.”
“Even the curate,” she said, with a small laugh. “How did you learn about him, by the by?”
“I had my suspicions, even when you first told me he was not safe,” Adrian said.
“Honoria seems to think him a lovely man, and if he were too arrogant and stodgy she would not like him so well. But I was certain when I asked Dr. Ashcombe, a few days back, whether anyone else knew about the school. Something flashed in his eyes for a moment, and though he said ‘no,’ I knew there was something he was concealing.”
“It is strange for me to sit here and listen to them all agreeing to help without complaint,” she murmured, looking out the window. A small tendril of pale hair moved about her face. “I am so used to making decisions alone—I do not know if I even know how to be someone who is not alone.”
He paused a moment, the weight of her words ringing true in his own heart. “Neither do I, Miss Thorne. Perhaps, with time, we can both learn.”
She smiled softly at him.
“I ought to go,” he said, but he did not move.
“You ought,” she agreed. She turned her blue eyes up to him and watched him steadily, as though she could draw the truth of his feelings from him with her gaze alone.
He felt the power of that gaze, and blinked first.
“Yes, well… good day, Miss Thorne. I shall be back with character references by tomorrow.”
She nodded and stood, curtsying as he took his leave. The last thing he saw as he walked away was her slim figure, swathed in blue muslin, standing alone in the fading evening light.