Chapter Twenty #3
“Do you say,” said Sir Mark, incredulous, “that Lady Derrydene drove away from that house, well knowing her husband lay dead inside? No, no! I cannot credit she would be so heartless.”
Gideon said thoughtfully, “We were given to understand he had gone with her. They wanted us to think that, of course.”
“I’ll wager he was alive when she left,” persisted Sir Mark. “Likely, he said he would follow her later.”
“Very probable,” said the general. “At all events, he left a letter. A full confession, my dear Rossiter! Admitting—in fact, boasting—that he planned and contrived the collapse of your financial empire; that he engineered the run on the bank, the loans that were not made good, the embezzlement. The fire at your shipyard was by his order, also!”
“Stap and split me!” gasped Sir Mark, sinking into his chair again. “How the man must have hated me!”
Thinking a great deal, Gideon frowned and was silent.
“The important thing is that you are exonerated,” said the general. “The committee will have no choice but to find you blameless!”
Overcome, Sir Mark put a hand over his eyes, and could not speak.
Underhill said, “Well? Well, Captain Rossiter? You say nothing!”
“I am delighted, of course, sir. But the complexity of it all baffles me. Is the general aware that I found one of the jewelled men at Derrydene’s home?
Are we to infer that he himself was the wealthy collector?
And that he engineered Lady Lutonville’s kidnapping?
An odd coincidence if the two affairs are not connected. ”
“An odd coincidence indeed, were it such a thing.” Underhill explained, “Your father was correct in believing this to have been a most fiendish plot, Captain Rossiter. Derrydene’s confession indicates a violent resentment of Sir Mark’s successes, and rage that he was not acknowledged as being the true genius behind the scenes. ”
“Of course he was not,” inserted Sir Mark, recovering himself. “Since that was not the case!”
“He did hint a possibly more—er, compelling motive. He appears to have believed you were—ah, engaged in an affaire de coeur with his wife.”
Glancing at his father, astonished, Gideon saw the fine face redden.
Underhill grinned. “At all events, I fancy brooding and imagination did the rest, and bred a seething hatred; a desire for revenge that built until Derrydene could no longer control it. He had evidently thought his triumph complete until Captain Rossiter began to stir things up again. He likely realized that with the passage of time heads were cooler, and another investigation could spell disaster. He tried to frighten you off, Captain, with the attack on you. When that didn’t work, your coach was tampered with. ”
Gideon said grimly, “Had that pole snapped a minute or two earlier, I would have been out of his way. And Lady Lutonville, also!”
Puzzling at it, Sir Mark muttered, “I fail to understand. Newby and I did our possible to come at the root of the business. We hired investigators, we brought in Bow Street and the Watch, and Derrydene was not disturbed. What did Gideon manage that we did not?”
‘A home question,’ thought Gideon, and waited to see what the general would offer in reply.
Underhill linked his hands on the desk and said thoughtfully, “I think, firstly, he captured the public interest. Much as your family was held in abhorrence, Sir Mark, here is a fine young officer come home from the war having been badly wounded. That he had to face such shocking news, and was at once attacked and villified, caused a stirring of sympathy—the British tendency to side with the underdog. From there ’twas a short step for people to wonder if there might be something to what you had claimed, after all. ”
Gideon stared at him. “No, really sir, you cannot think that was sufficient to cause him to—”
The general raised a hand. “He likely did not realize you actually suspected him until you broke into his house. The papers you stole may or may not have proven sufficiently damning to warrant another investigation. However, by a quirk of fate that must have infuriated him, you had no sooner set foot in England than you came into possession of a key article. An item he had to retrieve at all costs.”
“The jewelled man,” exclaimed Gideon. “That is what forced their—his hand!”
“Exactly so. In his confession, which is lengthy, Derrydene admits that he employed many men in his schemes to destroy your father, but the risk of blackmail was great, so he sent his instructions out by way of a trusted accomplice—a servant of a friend apparently, although he does not name the man. The accomplice had in turn to protect himself, so the instructions were delivered after dark, and the accomplice went masked, and always carried one of the jewelled men to prove his identity. You can imagine Derrydene’s consternation when a figure was lost. If it fell into the wrong hands no end of mischief could result. ”
“Blister it!” exclaimed Sir Mark. “Then you were right all the time, Gideon! That confounded chess piece really was connected with my troubles!”
The general said kindly, “And your troubles are over, Rossiter. I make no doubt the Lord Chancellor’s committee will exonerate you of all blame!”
* * *
General Underhill’s predictions about the meeting of the Lord Chancellor’s committee proved entirely accurate.
The meeting became chaotic when Derrydene’s suicide was made known and his confession was read aloud.
Sir Mark Rossiter was acquitted, and commended for his desperate efforts to rectify matters.
He stood up, impressive as always, even in a sober habit of brown and gold.
With the help of the Horse Guards, he announced, Samuel Davies, the embezzler, had been traced to an island off the coast of Spain and there was every hope that a large part of the funds would be recovered.
There were cheers at this, and more cheers when he declared his intention of using the money to repay his investors at seventeen shillings to the guinea, and that the remainder would go towards reopening the shipyard.
At the impromptu celebration that followed the meeting, Newby, somewhat subdued but still trying, had several suggestions by which his father might better use the funds, if they were indeed recovered.
Rossiter Court on Conduit Street must be reclaimed.
Promontory Point must be renovated and improved and the ornamental water—
Sir Mark interrupted brusquely, “I have sold Promontory Point.”
As stunned as his brother, Gideon stammered, “But—but, sir, it has been in our family for centuries!”
“Aye. And as my heir, you doubtless feel I should have consulted you.” Sir Mark clapped him on the back.
“My boy, you’ve done well, and I’ll not again make the mistake of supposing you’ve no head for business.
However, Bracksby has made a most generous offer for the Point, and with the funds we can restore the shipyard and put our people back to work.
I believe Bracksby only makes the purchase to oblige me, and the good-hearted fellow promises to sell back the estate should I feel able to take it on again—which I certainly shall do.
With the help of you two young rascals.”
He smiled kindly at his younger son. “You are agreeable, I presume?”
“Oh—as you say, sir,” said Newby, hollowly.
“Meanwhile,” Sir Mark added with a twinkle, “I am not such a dunce as to be unaware of your hopes, Gideon. You mean to wed your beautiful lady and spend as much time as possible down at Emerald Farm. Shall she object, do you fancy?”
“I sincerely hope not, sir.”
“Well,” said Sir Mark expansively, “you have my blessing. I doubt Collington can object, in view of all you’ve done for him, but you shall wish to seek him out and get his approval, of course.”
Plagued by the guilty awareness of how differently his father would react if he knew the whole story, Gideon mumbled, “Yes—er, of course, sir.”
“Only look at him,” laughed Sir Mark. “Blushing like a schoolboy!”
* * *
General Underhill looked up from the small pile of papers on his desk, then passed them to the stocky major who was his aide.
The major began to leaf through the documents.
Underhill scrutinized the young officer who stood at rigid attention before his desk, shoulders pulled back, head high and proud, eyes steady but unreadable.
“’Twas my thought,” murmured the general, “that you planned to wed Lady Lutonville.”
Gideon answered, “Such is my intention, sir.”
“And is she aware of this report you have handed me?”
“It is my hope, General, that she may never be aware of the matter in its entirety.”
The general put up his brows, but made no comment, turning his attention to the three young men who stood just behind Captain Rossiter.
Dispensing with the first two, he said, “Glendenning, I have been acquainted with your father any time these thirty years. Is Bowers-Malden party to your—suspicions?”
Lord Horatio shook his head. “Captain Rossiter has asked that we keep it as close as possible, sir.”
“He has reason, belike.” The general’s eyes flickered over Falcon and settled on Morris. “You served with distinction, Lieutenant. Are you by chance of the Cornwall Morrises?”
“My father’s cousin, sir.”
Underhill nodded, left his chair, and took a turn about the room. Three of the men exchanged grim glances; Falcon merely looked bored.
“You will permit that I make quite sure I’ve a correct understanding of Captain Rossiter’s report,” said Underhill, hands loosely clasped behind him.
“’Tis your—ah, shared belief that a group of conspirators, led by some nebulous person called the Squire, threatens England.
Unhappily, you do not know the precise nature of this alleged threat, nor when or where it is to be realised.
Nor do you know the identity of this—ah, Squire person. Am I correct thus far?”
Gideon said, “Quite correct, General.”