Chapter 29
The magistrate’s chamber was quieter than Eleanor had expected.
Julian’s letters lay beside the saddler’s account, Carter’s statement, and the records concerning Lord Marbury’s estate. Each piece had seemed troubling on its own. Together, they formed something far more terrible.
Eleanor sat beside Gabriel while the magistrate read through the papers. Carter stood before the table, his shoulders rigid with the knowledge that the next words would condemn the man who had once employed him.
“Begin with the saddle,” the magistrate said.
Carter swallowed. “I was in the stables before the hunt. Lord Julian came in while I was tending the horses. He told me to leave the bay ready for Lord Marbury.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.”
“What happened afterward?”
Carter looked briefly toward Gabriel before forcing himself to continue.
“Lord Marbury came back when I was alone. He dismissed me again, but I did not go far. I watched from the doorway.”
Eleanor felt her hands tighten in her lap.
“What did you see?” the magistrate asked.
“I saw him working at the saddle-girth.”
A silence followed.
“These are serious allegations,” the magistrate warned. “Are you certain it was Lord Marbury?”
“It was. I knew him well. I had served on his family’s estate for years. I saw his face clearly.”
“What did he do?”
“He altered the fastening.” Carter’s voice faltered. “I did not understand what he meant to do then. I thought perhaps he wanted the saddle changed for some reason. Later, when that late Lord Marbury fell and was injured, I understood.”
The magistrate leaned forward.
“What did you do after the accident?”
“I said nothing.”
“Why?”
“Because Julian found me afterward,” Carter looked down. “He told me I would be blamed if I spoke. He said the matter was already settled and that I would be paid to leave.”
Eleanor felt a chill move through her. The investigator placed another document before the magistrate.
“The payment Carter mentions corresponds with this.”
The saddler stepped forward.
“I can confirm that,” he said, though he looked deeply uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny of the room. “Lord Marbury came to my shop several days before the hunt. He brought the saddle himself.”
“And what did he request?”
“He wanted the girth altered.”
“Did he explain why?”
“No.”
“Did you consider the request unusual?”
The saddler hesitated.
“Yes. The alteration was not necessary for the saddle, but he insisted that it be done exactly as he described.”
“Did he pay you?”
“Yes. Handsomely.”
The magistrate glanced toward the investigator.
“Do we have evidence of that payment?”
“We do.”
A receipt was placed beside the letters. The saddler nodded, agreeing that it was indeed his receipt. Eleanor stared at the page. Julian’s name was written beneath the amount.
Gabriel’s hand found hers beneath the table. His expression was grim, but his fingers were steady around hers.
The magistrate turned toward the final evidence.
“And the letters?”
The investigator opened the first.
“They establish that Julian was corresponding with several people regarding the matter. Some are vague, but others contain references to the hunt, the payment, and what he calls the ‘settled matter.’”
The magistrate read silently for several moments. Eleanor watched his expression change from confused to resolved to haunted.
“Does any letter explicitly state that Lord Marbury was to be killed?”
“No,” the investigator replied. “He was careful.”
“Then we must establish a motive.”
“His motive was inheritance.” Gabriel explained. “He believed he would inherit a substantial portion of the Marbury estate after his uncle’s death. He had debts that were becoming increasingly difficult to conceal, and he expected Lord Marbury’s death to solve them.”
Eleanor’s stomach twisted.
“And then he discovered the will,” she continued.
“Lord Marbury had changed it so that Sophie was protected. My cousin learned that the inheritance would pass through Sophie instead. His opportunity to settle his debts had disappeared, but the murder had already been committed, so he turned his attention toward my child.”
The explanation made the entire course of events seem even more horrifying.
Julian had not simply become an enemy after Eleanor’s husband died.
He had been prepared to remove whatever stood between himself and the inheritance, and when the will prevented him from profiting directly, he had turned toward Sophie instead.
Eleanor looked down at the papers. She had spent so much time wondering whether her husband’s death had truly been an accident. She had lived beneath suspicion herself, carrying the shame of an accusation that she never should have faced.
But the truth sat before her in ink and testimony.
Lord Marbury had been murdered, but she had never been responsible.
The thought should have brought relief, yet grief moved through her just as strongly.
She had not loved her husband, and he had not been a loving husband to her, but if it were not for him she would not have had Sophie, and she would have done anything if it meant having her.
Gabriel leaned toward her. “You have nothing to fear from the truth.”
“I know.” Her voice trembled. “I only wish it had come sooner.”
His thumb moved slowly across the back of her hand. “So do I.”
The magistrate gathered the statements together.
“Taken individually, each piece might be challenged. Together, they establish a very different picture. We have the eyewitness account, the physical alteration, the payment, and the correspondence. We also have evidence of motive. Your statements will be formally recorded.”
Both men nodded. The magistrate turned back to Gabriel.
“I will issue the necessary orders.”
Eleanor finally released the breath she had been holding. The truth was no longer buried beneath rumor and suspicion. It had been spoken aloud, and this time, Julian would have to answer for it.
The truth followed Eleanor all the way home.
She had thought she would feel relief once the magistrate accepted the evidence, yet the carriage ride back to Ravenscourt left her strangely shaken.
She sat beside Gabriel with her hands folded tightly in her lap, watching the countryside pass beyond the glass while the same realization returned again and again.
Julian had murdered her husband. The man who had spent years allowing her to be suspected of poisoning Lord Marbury had known the truth from the beginning.
He had arranged the accident, and when that did not work he made a second attempt.
He then profited from the death he had intended to look like misfortune, and then watched Eleanor endure the consequences of his crime.
Worse still, when the will had prevented him from taking Sophie’s inheritance, he had turned his attention toward the child herself, and she could not bear to think what he would have done to access her inheritance once he had her.
Eleanor closed her eyes. Sophie had never been safe while Julian remained free. Gabriel seemed to know what was on her mind, and he cleared his throat gently.
“You do not need to think about him.”
“I cannot stop. He made me believe I had done something terrible for a time. I should have known better. I never should have trusted him.”
“No. You had been grieving. You were alone, and he had arranged everything so that the truth would point toward you. There was nothing foolish about believing what everyone around you appeared to believe.”
“He almost took Sophie. He—he could have killed her.”
“But he did not, because we found her.”
The carriage rolled through the gates of Ravenscourt. Eleanor looked toward the house, where Beatrice was waiting on the steps with the dowager beside her. The sight steadied something inside her.
She had once thought of Ravenscourt as a place she was borrowing until her troubles ended.
Now the sight of it made her chest ache with belonging.
Ravenscourt was her home, and there was no greater feeling.
The carriage stopped, but before Gabriel could even open the door, Beatrice hurried down the steps and toward the carriage.
“Well?”
Eleanor managed a tired smile. “The magistrate has everything.”
“Then let us hope he acts quickly.”
“He intends to.”
Gabriel stepped down and offered Eleanor his hand. They had barely reached the steps when a groom came running from the side of the house.
“Mr. Hartley, there has been a sighting.”
Eleanor’s stomach dropped. “Of Julian?”
The groom nodded. “One of the gardeners saw a man near the eastern boundary. He disappeared before anyone could reach him.”
Gabriel’s entire body changed immediately. “Where was this?”
“The rose garden.”
Eleanor went still. The rose garden, the place where Sophie had first found the little garden wall, and where their life at Ravenscourt had begun. It was a place that had become sacred to her, and the thought of her cousin going there to taunt them was too much to handle.
Gabriel caught her arm. “You stay here.”
“No.”
“Eleanor—”
“If he is there, Sophie may be near him. It is her favorite place.”
The words had barely left her mouth before a child’s laughter floated faintly from beyond the hedges. Eleanor turned.
“Sophie.”
She ran, and Gabriel followed. They reached the rose garden to find Sophie standing beside the fountain, holding a small basket. She had been picking fallen petals with Beatrice’s young maid only moments before, but the maid was nowhere in sight.
A figure stood beyond the roses. Eleanor knew it was Julian, but he looked nothing like the polished gentleman who had once entered Eleanor’s life with condolences and sympathy.
His coat was dusty, his face drawn, and his eyes carried the desperate brightness of a man who had run out of places to hide.
Sophie saw him and froze. Eleanor moved between them instinctively.
“Stay away from my daughter.”
Julian smiled faintly. “Your daughter.”
Gabriel came to stand beside Eleanor.
“Julian, do not come any closer.”