Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Gentlemen,” the solicitor said as he carefully placed a tray upon his desk, “I fear tea is all I possess that is capable of reviving you.” He poured each of them an exceptionally strong cup before sliding one towards Gabriel.
The day had long since broken over the village, yet Gabriel felt as though the night had never truly ended.
He sat inside the offices of Mr. Carson, his family solicitor, with exhaustion settling heavily upon his shoulders and determination refusing to allow him even a moment’s peace.
Every passing minute brought him closer to the meeting he had arranged with Helen that evening.
If she believed she held all the cards, then she would arrive confident.
Gabriel intended to ensure she left with nothing.
Until then, waiting proved far more difficult than any battle he had ever fought.
Mr. Carson’s office occupied the upper floor of a sturdy Georgian brick building overlooking the village square.
Shelves lined every wall from floor to ceiling, groaning beneath thick leather-bound ledgers, legal volumes, bundles of parchment tied neatly with faded ribbons, and polished wooden boxes containing decades of estate records.
A broad mahogany desk dominated the center of the room, its surface covered with orderly stacks of correspondence, brass scales, sealing wax, and an inkstand that had clearly survived generations of legal disputes.
Tall windows admitted sunlight that struggled to warm the room while a coal fire crackled steadily inside a stone hearth near the rear wall.
Beyond an open doorway lay a smaller chamber containing two simple cots, reserved for clients obliged to remain overnight during complicated negotiations or lengthy legal proceedings.
Dr. John Hunt sat opposite Gabriel, looking scarcely better rested than he did, his cravat loosened and dark circles beneath his eyes betraying a sleepless night.
“In your present condition, I recommend the cots in the back room for a brief respite,” Carson said.
Gabriel took a drink of the strong tea, then another.
Mr. Carson gestured towards the adjoining chamber. “You have both been awake the entire night,” he observed, his usually composed voice carrying unmistakable concern. “Lie down for an hour or two while we still have time.”
Gabriel stared into the dark tea before lifting his eyes. “I could not sleep even if I tried,” he replied quietly, his voice rough from fatigue. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Helen standing in my house.”
John took a long swallow of tea before rubbing both hands over his tired face. “I confess,” he muttered with a weary smile, “I should happily sleep on the floor if someone promised not to wake me until Michaelmas.”
Mr. Carson chuckled faintly despite the circumstances.
“Unfortunately, the law is inconsiderate enough to continue regardless of one’s desire for a holiday.”
Gabriel managed the smallest twitch of amusement. “A regrettable flaw in the legal profession.”
The brief humor disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. John leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms upon his knees. “How much longer do you believe your investigator will require?” he asked, looking towards Mr. Carson. “Surely we ought to have heard something by now.”
The solicitor sighed thoughtfully before setting his own teacup aside. “Mr. Hatley is among the finest investigators I have ever employed,” he replied with quiet confidence.
Mr. Carson folded his hands atop the desk.
“However,” he continued, “we asked him to locate a woman who had successfully disappeared for years under the assumption that she had drowned.” He shook his head slowly.
“He only received the assignment late last night.” His expression remained calm despite the seriousness of the situation.
“Even the finest bloodhound requires time to find a scent.”
Gabriel understood the logic perfectly well. Unfortunately, logic did little to soothe impatience.
His fingers tightened around the teacup.
Time was precisely the one thing they lacked.
Helen had already demonstrated how willing she was to manipulate, threaten, and destroy anyone standing between her and her ambitions.
If she suspected Gabriel intended to outmaneuver her, there was no predicting how viciously she might respond.
The thought of David or Valerie becoming the targets of her anger made something cold settle inside his chest. Failure simply was not an option. Then there were her threats to Amelia.
“He must return soon,” Gabriel said at last, setting his tea upon the desk with deliberate care.
He rose from his chair and crossed towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared out across the village square below.
“I am expected to meet Helen at the village tavern this evening.” His reflection stared back at him from the glass, looking older than it had the previous day.
“If I fail to appear, there is no telling what she may do.”
John followed Gabriel’s gaze towards the window before glancing thoughtfully at Mr. Carson. “She is clever enough to interpret absence as resistance,” he observed quietly. “Cornered people often become dangerous.”
Gabriel nodded once. “Helen has never lacked determination.” He remembered the cold satisfaction in her smile the previous evening. “Nor imagination.” The recollection only strengthened his resolve.
Mr. Carson tapped one finger thoughtfully against the edge of his desk before leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps,” he began slowly, “there is another way.”
Gabriel turned from the window to face him once more.
The solicitor folded his hands together. “You keep your appointment exactly as arranged.” John raised an interested eyebrow. Mr. Carson continued, “Should Mr. Hatley arrive while you are at the tavern, we will simply take the evidence directly to you.”
John nodded almost immediately. “That is an excellent plan,” he agreed, sitting forward in renewed interest. “Helen will remain occupied, believing herself entirely in control.”
Mr. Carson smiled faintly. “Meanwhile, we place the truth directly before her once we have it.”
Gabriel remained silent, carefully considering the suggestion. It possessed undeniable merit. Even so, experience had taught him that plans surviving perfectly on paper often fared considerably worse when confronted by determined human beings.
“I shall think it over,” Gabriel replied at last, returning to his chair. He lifted his teacup and took a long swallow, welcoming the bitterness that accompanied the strong brew. “For now,” he added, “we possess a few more hours.”
Mr. Carson inclined his head. “Indeed, we do.” He reached into one of the leather document cases resting beside his desk and withdrew a carefully folded parchment sealed with an official crest.
“At the very least,” the solicitor said as he broke the seal and spread the document across the polished wood, “I have secured a certified copy of Helen Warring’s death certificate.”
Gabriel leaned forward while John rose from his chair to examine it more closely. Mr. Carson tapped the paper lightly with one finger. “Someone deliberately recorded her as deceased.” His expression hardened. “That alone presents serious legal difficulties.”
Gabriel studied the certificate in silence.
The official signatures appeared genuine.
The parish seal had not been forged. Some years earlier, someone had knowingly participated in an elaborate deception.
Whether through bribery, coercion, or negligence hardly mattered.
The lie had allowed Helen to vanish without consequence while leaving Gabriel to rebuild the shattered lives of two innocent children.
Rage stirred quietly beneath his carefully controlled expression.
John folded his arms as he looked over the document. “Combined with my testimony,” he said firmly, “the case becomes considerably stronger.”
Gabriel lifted his eyes. John met his gaze without hesitation. “I treated David’s injuries myself.” His voice grew quieter. “I documented everything.” He swallowed before continuing. “The bruises. The scar.” His jaw tightened. “No court will ignore that.”
Mr. Carson nodded in agreement. “A physician’s testimony carries considerable weight.” He carefully folded the death certificate once more before placing it inside a leather folder. “Particularly when accompanied by medical records.”
Gabriel appreciated John’s willingness to revisit those painful memories, knowing full well the physician cared deeply for the children himself. It could not have been easy. None of this was easy.
“It is good evidence,” Gabriel acknowledged, rubbing tiredly at the bridge of his nose before looking between the two men. “Very good evidence.” He paused, weighing each word carefully. “But I do not wish to leave anything to chance.”
His voice became firmer. “The more proof we possess against Helen, the better.” He met Mr. Carson’s eyes squarely. “When this ends, I want no loophole through which she might ever reach David or Valerie again.”
Silence settled over the office after his declaration. Outside, the village bustled with ordinary life as carts rolled across the square and merchants called greetings to passing customers. Inside, however, the atmosphere remained heavy with urgency.
Gabriel realized that everything now depended upon the coming hours.
Either they would finally free the children from Helen forever, or she would tighten her grip upon their lives once again.
As he looked at the men beside him, Gabriel silently vowed that no matter the cost, he would ensure only one of those futures ever came to pass.
“If you will excuse me, I need some air.” He headed for the door.