Chapter Eight #2
“Ah, yes. I think that is best forgot. Is provoking to think that some uncouth rank rider, or a yokel with no appreciation of its antiquity, likely found it. But there. What use to cry over spilt milk? Adieu. Do not stay too long from Kent. We miss you.”
He patted her cheek, smiled with rare warmth, and was gone.
* * *
There was a haze in the air on this Tuesday morning, and the sunlight was diffused so that her beams fell softly upon London’s countless chimney pots, towers, and domes.
Gideon stood at the window of the book room, contemplating the scene thoughtfully.
A warm little hand crept into his own. He turned, smiling down at Gwendolyn’s bright face.
“Are you thinking how different is the prospect?” she asked. “From that of Rossiter Court, I mean? The hill gives us a fine view, Gideon.”
He bent to press a kiss on her forehead. “Which is one thing to be said for it, eh little one? No, I was thinking of my father’s—er—”
“Obsession?” Newby closed the door behind him and sauntered across the room. “I wonder you waste your time with such balderdash.” He embraced his sister and said smilingly, “Do not encourage him, my poppet.”
Gideon pulled out a chair for her, and Gwendolyn sat down and said with a sigh, “I wish I might offer some encouragement. ’Twould be passing wonderful to find we were not really responsible for so much grief and tragedy.”
“We are not, love.” Newby disposed himself languidly against the edge of the reference table.
“Our inept old gentleman is. And my heroic brother would do well to employ his mind to the avoidance of prosecution rather than try to sniff out a non-existent band of dastardly conspirators. No—use your wits do, Gideon! Why in the devil would anyone go to so much trouble and expense? ’Tis not as if there were vast fortunes to be made from this catastrophe. ”
“I would call one hundred thousand pounds a vast fortune,” interposed Gwendolyn indignantly.
“Yes, dear,” said Gideon. “But that was stolen by one rascal. Most expertly. Where was the need for all the rest of it? I think that’s what Newby means.”
“Your brilliance, dear twin, is dazzling,” sneered Newby.
“And your filial loyalty non-existent. My father is not a blockhead—”
“Just an exceeding maladroit Chairman of the Board? Oh, never give me your pious looks or pretend a devotion you do not feel. Six years ago you could scarce wait to buy yourself a pair of colours so as to get away from him.”
“From his policies, rather.”
“Time proved you right in that, at least.”
“Even so, I never held him to be a fool, and there is a deal too much of coincidence in all this for us to laugh at his suspicions.”
Newby said contemptuously, “As I do? Is that what you say? Then pray tell, dear twin, what you with your superior understanding have discovered whilst you puttered about asking questions. You must have succeeded in stirring up somebody. Papa tells me his solicitor is already imploring him to keep you from his door!”
“I called on him, certainly, and learned how much a man may say while saying nothing. I also called on many others. Hiat, for instance—”
“Ah, yes. Our worthy ex-bank manager. Who is ill, or so one is told, and can see nobody.”
“He must have improved, for he saw me. He’s a nervous wreck, poor fellow, but said he’d advised against making such large loans when there were rumours the trading company investment was shaky.”
“Upon which our revered sire undoubtedly behaved as though Hiat had spat in a cathedral, since the largest loans were made to his school mates—fine gentlemen of title et sans reproche. Unhappily, my father judges men by lineage and schooling instead of by their knowledge and ability. Did you ask the worthy Hiat what the vanishing stockholders had to say?”
“Both Lord Norberly and Sir Louis Derrydene concurred in the loans. I also asked him if he had any suspicion that the failure of the bank and the investment company, the embezzlement, the trading company swindle, and the fire at the shipyards were in some way connected.”
Newby laughed softly. “But how fascinating. We await Hiat’s answer with bated breath, do we not, my Gwen?”
“Do not be horrid, Newby,” she said, gently tapping his hand. “Gideon has been trying so hard.”
“I believe he thought I was raving mad,” said Gideon slowly.
“Sensible man. And are you now convinced, twin?”
Frowning, Gideon hesitated. “I’ll own that at first I thought Papa’s nerves were overset and he was at the brink of a breakdown. But now…” He wandered to the window again, and muttered, “Jupiter, but there’s something, I think.”
Newby covered his eyes and groaned.
Gideon turned back. “I was able to discover the direction of two of the men who had worked up at Merseyside. They both—both, Newby!—said they were convinced the fire was arson, and that the foreman was of the same mind.”
“Which the official investigators say is nonsensical and cannot be proved.”
“It could be proven were we to find the men who set the fire!”
“Dearest,” put in Gwendolyn. “Do you really believe a conspiracy?”
“Not exactly, love. Yet—I cannot but wonder why so many people I have tried to talk with are so frightened.”
“Heaven protect us all,” moaned Newby. “My dear clod, they are not frightened of you! They despise you! They do not wish to be seen conversing with you! Can you not understand yet? We are—untouchables! All of us!”
“I did not say they were frightened of me. I said they were frightened. Lady Norberly, for instance.”
“Good Gad! You called on that dragon? She did not receive you, I’ll warrant!”
“I think she would not have done, save that I chanced to arrive just as she was leaving the house. She vowed she has no least notion where his lordship may be, only that he travels in Scotland. Or perhaps Wales. She was trembling. And when I tried to speak again, she became loudly abusive. Her servants all but knocked me down.”
With an exclamation of impatience Newby sprang to his feet.
“Which has nothing to say to the purpose! Plague take it, where’s the use in raking over old coals now?
Shall we be any less ruined an you do track down that embezzling rogue, Davies?
Are we any less to blame because we had overextended ourselves on what proved fraudulent foreign investments?
’Twas my father’s responsibility, no matter how you seek to wrap it in clean linen!
Since the enquiries, I have done all in my power to quiet things down!
Now, you must come home and start stirring coals and throwing everyone into an uproar again!
The last thing we need is for the whole beastly mess to flare up once more.
Let be! ’Tis done and over with and nothing can undo it.
Let it alone, I say, else there is no telling where it may end! ”
Gideon looked into that flushed and angry face and persisted, “You were here, twin, and I was not. Is there nothing you judge to have been peculiar? Nothing that struck you as contrived or that might be worth looking into?”
Breathing hard, Newby answered, “Yes, there is something worth looking into! The conserving of what resources we have left. My father is, even now, not without some friends. We could ship our belongings quietly and be out of the country ere anyone could detain us. He and his men of the law have been able to stave off the Courts for the time, but how long can we hope to delay the inevitable? If you have any influence at all, my valiant captain, you had best exert it to convince him to emigrate. Do you yearn to see my sister living in Newgate? Well, I do not! Nor do I mean to stand idly by while you compound his blunders! Conspiracy, indeed! My God—what folly!”
He strode rapidly to the door, then turned about. “I forgot. You’ve a caller, I believe. Best see him. Such events are rare in this house.”
* * *
Viscount Horatio Glendenning was seated in Gideon’s small parlour, in close converse with Tummet. A very different Tummet this, his wig sleek, his person immaculate in a neat black habit that lent him a dignity somewhat at variance with his craggy face and discoloured eye.
“How good of you to come, Tio,” said Gideon, walking into the room and shaking hands with his friend. “What has this rogue been telling you?”
“Incidents from his extreme checkered career,” said the viscount with a grin. “If all else fails, Ross, you can write ’em down, put your sheets between marble covers, and make a fortune!”
“Oh, yes. I could entitle it, ‘Diary of a Skinner of Whales.’” And as his lordship stared uncertainly, Rossiter smiled and translated, “That’s ‘Spinner of Tales’ to you, old lad.
What, has he not favoured you with his rhyming cant yet?
Sometimes, ’tis the only way I can be sure he’s my man, and not some bishop who has chanced to wander into my rooms.”
The fledgling valet said an amused, “Garn! You staying ’ere fer a bit, Cap’n?”
“Yes. Bring cognac to the balcony if you please. One thing this house offers is a view, Tio. And ’tis a pretty day.”
“Pretty rare,” said Glendenning. “You’ll not need an umbrella do you plan to accompany me to the Dowling Soiree this evening.”
Rossiter glanced at him in surprise. “My thanks, but I’ve no least wish to do so. You cannot have thought I had been invited?”
“No, but I have, my Tulip. And you’ve been complaining that you’re unable to come up with Bracksby. I chance to know he’ll be there.”
Lowering himself into one of the wooden chairs on the small balcony, Rossiter said quizzically, “My presence would not help your standing with the ton, you know. Any more than will my attendance at your ball.”
“Very true. You’re a dirty dish if ever there was one. But I shall contrive to bear it. Yea, or nay, Ross?”
“Yea! And most gratefully. I’ve been trying to see Rudi since I came home. He and Derrydene were friends and he may be able to tell me where to find the man. But he’s elusive as a shadow in November!”