14. The Price of Truth
Chapter fourteen
The Price of Truth
"Dr Moreland," Wilkins said, carefully adjusting papers that needed no adjustment, "I've served your family for thirty years.
Your grandfather trusted me with matters that would have ruined lesser men.
" His gaze darted to the door before returning to Everett.
"But what I've discovered..." He swallowed hard.
"Children are dying in the East End. Hundreds of them.
And these records show—" He stopped abruptly, rearranging the papers again with trembling hands.
"If the truth came to light," Everett said quietly, "anyone who helped conceal it could face charges."
"Precisely." Wilkins's shoulders sagged with relief at being understood.
"I have grandchildren of my own. When I learned about the water quality in the East End...
" He straightened suddenly, his professional mask slipping back into place.
"I seem to have left these particular documents rather visible on my desk.
Most careless of me. I trust that if anyone asks, you'll confirm I was...
most discreet about your father's affairs? "
"Of course." Everett studied the stack of financial records Wilkins had so carefully arranged. "No one will know you assisted me unless they ought."
The solicitor nodded once, then busied himself with other papers while Everett began his examination of the evidence that would destroy his family's legacy. Taking advantage of the diversions at the Lullingstone house party, he'd slipped away without his father noticing.
Wilkins’s careful emphasis on certain investment returns, his pointed comments about water company shares hadn’t been subtle. Obviously, Wilkins wanted him to understand something without directly betraying his father’s confidence.
“Lord Salisbury’s solicitor was asking about those same records.” Wilkins had mentioned casually. “Seems very interested in the timing of certain infrastructure projects. Particularly in relation to the cholera outbreak.”
Now, studying the documents more closely, Everett saw what the man had wanted him to notice.
The Moreland fortune wasn’t just tied to London Water Works; it was completely dependent on it.
Every property deed, every investment, even the mortgages on their London homes used water company shares as collateral.
His mind whirling but his heart numb with shock, Everett left Wilkins’s office in a daze. He had just returned to Lullingstone and settled in his chamber with a glass of brandy when Emma entered without knocking, her expression troubled. Everett held his breath, bracing for the worst.
“Did you know Lord Atkins’s youngest died of cholera last week?” she announced without a preamble.
“What? That’s impossible. They live in Mayfair.”
“Exactly. But according to his nurse, the child had been visiting relatives in Shadwell, one of the neighbourhoods in the East End.”
She perched on the arm of his chair, an old habit that made his chest ache with familiarity.
“The interesting part is what happened after,” she said.
“Go on.”
“Atkins started asking questions about water quality. Two days later, he received a very generous offer to buy his textile business. The buyer?” Her eyes met his. “A subsidiary of London Water Works.”
Everett’s blood ran cold. “You think they’re buying silence?”
“I think it’s worth investigating why a water company needs so many businesses existing only on paper.
” She withdrew a folded paper from her pocket.
“My solicitor found something odd when reviewing property records. Half the buildings along the new pipeline route changed hands just before construction began. All purchased by different companies, but—”
“All ultimately controlled by London Water Works,” Everett finished. The pattern was becoming clear.
“The timing seems particularly convenient. Almost as if—” She broke off, studying his face. “You know something.”
He hesitated. Trust between them had been fragile. But this was bigger than their personal issues.
“My father’s entire fortune is leveraged against water company shares. If the company fails, everything collapses.” Emma’s eyes widened. “The properties, the investments, my inheritance. The hospital donations. Everything.”
She was silent for a long moment. “That explains why he’s so desperate to stop my research.”
“Emma, I stand to lose everything.”
“We must still do the right thing.” She began pacing, her mind racing. “If the company’s been buying properties along the pipeline route, they must have known the water was contaminated. They’re actively covering up their negligence.”
Everett dropped his head into his hands. The magnitude of his father’s sins was overwhelming, and the price he’d pay as his son may ruin him.
“We need proof,” she said finally. “Not just financial records, but evidence they knew about the contamination. Worker testimony. Internal documents. Something that can’t be dismissed as coincidence.”
“It would destroy my father.” His voice was flat.
“It would save lives.” She stopped pacing to face him. “The question is, are you ready to help me find that proof? Or are you still trying to protect your inheritance?”
He shot up from his chair. “Do not presume you know me or my motives, Emma! In fact, do not presume to know me at all!”
Emma stared in surprise.
His voice came out rough from suppressed emotion. “As much as I admire your passion for justice, my life is dangling on a cliff’s edge. Give me a moment to process this without you cheering on the demise of me and my father!”
The shock and hurt in her eyes constricted his breathing further.
A muscle leapt in her throat while her lips pressed in a bloodless line.
“I am sorry. How callous of me,” she said, her voice impossibly soft.
“I may sound eager, but not for your suffering. It must be difficult, learning your father may have changed into someone you no longer recognise. And your medical practice… I am truly sorry, Everett.”
He looked down at her and forced a smile. “I am devastated and utterly disappointed, but we have a job to do.” He tapped his fingers on the fireplace mantle, trying not to spiral out of control. “There’s a foreman at the Shadwell site,” he said slowly. “I will speak to him.”
Emma’s eyes lit. “I’d like to be involved.”
“Absolutely not. You’ve done more than enough by bringing several people’s attention to this dire circumstance. Leave it to me to do the rest.”
Emma’s expression conveyed distrust.
Looking into her eyes, he spat, “You are not the only one who wants to do what is right. You may refuse to believe me, but I, too, wish to prevent deaths. I took an oath to that effect, damn it! If you could stop being so stubborn and stop charging around like a bull, I would trust you to help me!”
“Me? You don’t trust me?” Emma marched toward him, indignation flushing her face.
“No, I don’t. A toddler might be more discreet than you could ever be, Emma. You have no regard for who sees you and how you’re perceived. How are you so brilliant and yet so foolish?”
“What makes you think I couldn’t be discreet?” She stood with her hands on her hips, ready for battle.
“How else do you think my father learned about you?”
Wordlessly, she turned and walked toward the door.
“Silence for once,” he said without humour.
“I shall await your report,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s unlikely that your foreman would speak to me.”
“He’s not my foreman. He’s Father’s.”
“By extension, he’s yours,” she said, opening the door.
Everett went to her, bending over so he could look her in the eye. “Are you saying I’m to blame for my father’s crimes because we are related?” he hissed.
“Not because he’s your father but because you have just as much to lose or gain from his actions,” she whispered, closing the door.
Everett glared at her with fury. Emma, unaccustomed to being the recipient of his temper, flinched.
“I suppose everything we shared meant nothing to you if you’re judging my character based on motivation.
Just as a stranger would. I’ve had enough of this conversation,” he said with all the iciness he could muster. “Good night, Miss Brown.”
She held his gaze with steely silence before whirling around and quitting the room.
Everett returned to his chair and sat, sipping on brandy and trying to calm his fear.
Fear of losing her, fear of confirming his father orchestrated this nightmare.
When his mind spiralled into near insanity, he headed to his father’s chamber in the guest quarters.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” his valet muttered when he nearly collided with him at the door. Everett walked on without a response. “Dr Moreland, you have a ball to prepare for, sir!”
Everett sighed at the reminder. The last thing he wanted was to entertain ladies and watch Emma dance with other men.
He cursed under his breath before rapping sharply on his father’s door.
When Dr Moreland called for him to enter, he found his father already dressed for the ball and reviewing papers at a small writing desk.
“Everett, to what do I owe this pleasure?” His father barely glanced up.
“We need to discuss Miss Brown.” Everett remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back. “And your investment in the London Water Company.”
That got his father’s attention. Dr Moreland set down his papers slowly. “I see you’ve been making inquiries.”
“Was that why you sent me to investigate her? Because of her cholera research?”
His father sighed, removing his spectacles to polish them meticulously. “We weren’t certain what she knew. But reports of her gathering data, making connections… It seemed prudent to have reason to disrupt her work if necessary.”
“Who else is involved? Your business partner, Snowden?”
“Of course. We make all decisions together.”
“How cosy. Couldn’t you gentlemen pick on someone your size?”
His father chuckled. “As you know, she may be small, but she is mighty.”