Chapter 23 #2
“I have a question,” Catriona said, in a calm tone that held more intelligence than chatter ever could. “Could you tell me, plainly, what sort of debts he is likely carrying and to whom?”
Eloise stared. How could Catriona know to ask that? The thought flashed so quickly it almost became laughter. “I think there is something amiss,” she said. “Debts are my best guess.”
Catriona’s gaze remained steady. “I am certain of it.”
Eloise felt a chill move along her spine. Catriona had not missed any of Lawrence’s questions. She had been listening more carefully than anyone had realized.
Eloise took a breath. Then, because the question was too specific to answer with nonsense, she gave the truth.
“London clubs,” she said slowly. “The sort where men play too long and smile too much while losing money they do not have. Moneylenders, if he is careless enough to need them. Not the respectable sort. The men who extend credit in rooms with locked drawers.” She paused.
“The kind of debts that travel through whispers. Not lawsuits, at least not yet. The kind that become ugly if the wrong people are owed too much for too long.”
Catriona gave a small, thoughtful nod.
“How did you know to ask that?” Eloise said.
“I have a cousin in Glasgow whose husband has dealings with a harder sort of business,” Catriona said, with the same calm tone as before. “Nothing that would be called respectable by people who value the appearance of neat hands.”
Eloise stared at her, unsure what to say. Was Catriona now fishing for information, as well? What if she said something she was not supposed to? Or was it possible that Catriona genuinely wanted to help, and Eloise was just becoming suspicious of everyone who asked a lot of questions?
“I will be writing to my cousin this afternoon,” Catriona continued. “If Lord Feversham is in debt to the kind of men I suspect he is, we could use all the help we can get to prove it .”
Eloise could not tell whether she was more startled or grateful. She had expected calculation from Catriona. Possibly curiosity. Not this. Not the simple, practical willingness to help.
“Thank you,” Eloise said quietly.
“As a widow,” Catriona said, “I have found myself with more time than is useful. It is good to put it to work.”
The sentence was so dry and so unselfconscious that it nearly made Eloise smile. Catriona picked up the correspondence, tucked it away in one smooth motion, and looked back toward the house. The conversation had, by mutual understanding, come to an end.
Eloise rose, made a small curtsy more from habit than need, and left the garden feeling oddly unsettled. Not because Catriona had been cruel. Because she had not. Because she had listened and been kind. Because she might know more than she had said.
***
That afternoon, a carriage arrived. Eloise saw it from the upstairs window first. The wheels rolled through the drive with the smooth certainty of a visitor expected by the Royal Court itself.
A young man climbed down from the carriage. He was well-dressed, fair-haired, and carried himself with an easy swagger that immediately suggested confidence, money, and the kind of charm men deployed when being welcomed was the only outcome he expected.
Lawrence was already at the door before the newcomer had fully straightened his coat.
The two men embraced like old friends. Not casual acquaintances.
Eloise felt immediate unease. Mrs. Maggie appeared at her side a moment later, as if summoned by instinct.
She looked out the window with a flat expression that was almost impossible to read.
“Who is that?” Eloise asked.
Mrs. Maggie squinted at the drive. “That is Lord Jonathan Macalpine.”
Eloise frowned. “Jamie’s cousin?”
Mrs. Maggie gave a faint nod, her expression sour.
Eloise looked back at the carriage. Lawrence had put one arm around the young man’s shoulders in a gesture so welcoming it looked almost affectionate. “Was Jamie expecting him?”
Mrs. Maggie did not answer for a moment. “No,” she said flatly.
The word carried just enough weight to make Eloise’s stomach drop, even though the housekeeper did not elaborate or explain her reaction to the cousin’s arrival. She looked again.
The men had begun to walk inside together, Jonathan half turned toward Lawrence as though the two of them had much to discuss. Or perhaps as though Lawrence had much to say. Mrs. Maggie’s mouth pursed.
Jonathan Macalpine was clearly uninvited. And Lawrence, who apparently knew him well enough to greet him like family, had just led him inside with an arm around his shoulders. Whatever that meant, Eloise suspected it did not bode well.
She stood at the window a moment longer. Then Mrs. Maggie sighed, not dramatically, only enough to show that she had already begun regretting the afternoon.
“Come along,” she said.
Eloise looked at her. The housekeeper glanced once toward the drive, then back. “We shall see what trouble this one brings,” she said.
And Eloise, looking down at Lawrence and Jonathan disappearing into the house together, felt a cold, sharp pull in her chest. She was suddenly concerned that the situation with Lawrence was about to get far worse.