Chapter Twenty Nine
Tristan was reaching for the door knob when the front door was opened by Buttons, who stepped back to usher them inside. He took one look at Tristan and frowned at the sight of Tristan’s rumbled appearance, torn jacket and bloody hands.
“My lord, what happened?” Buttons asked in concern as he stepped back to let Tristan and Arabella in, closing the door gently behind them.
“A cut purse attacked us as we left the Waterhouse’s home. I sent him packing, luckily Mr. Victor saw what happened and lent us his carriage afterwards,” Tristan replied. “Could you ask Cook for a pot of Chamomile tea and some biscuits, please? We will take it in the downstairs office.”
“Oh, yes, of course, sir.” Buttons replied school his features back into their usual mask.
“And could you have a bowl of warm water, a bar of soap, and a towel as well? I need to wash Sir Tristan’s scrapes.” Arabella directed.
“Yes, ma’am at once,” Buttons nodded, and then walked quickly away as Marcus descended the steps, his happy smile at seeing Tristan and Arabella quickly turning to a frown.
“What happened Tris?” Marcus asked in concern, giving Tristan a quick look over, noting the blood on Tristan’s knuckle’s and torn jacket, and Arabella’s broken parasol.
“I will tell you in the office, how did everything go?” Tristan asked as he turned towards the office.
“We cleaned out the attic, and took everything to the furniture stores, made almost six hundred pounds.” Marcus reached into his inner jacket pocket and held out a stack of pound notes to Tristan, who took them with a nod. “And Arabella, we put the chairs, side tables, bookshelf, and vases in the room across the hall as you liked. I tried to remember where you wanted everything put, though the men will move things were ever you like.”
“Thank you, Marcus. I’ll put this in the safe for now. It will go towards Arabella’s redecorating fund.” Tristan replied, putting the money in his jacket pocket as he reached for the handle of the office door. “And the other matter?”
“The locksmith and his men changed the locks to the attic, four of the upstairs doors, and the back door, and began replacing the locks on any of the first-floor windows that were bad.” Marcus turned to look at the stairs, “And the ladies returned about five minutes ago. I asked Jimmy to take them up a tray of tea and to mention that the furniture in the attic was all sold. I was hoping you would be home before the excitement began.”
Arabella was also about to thank Marcus for setting aside the furniture she’d selected when Miriam came flying down the stairs, her eyes wide and her face flushed.
“I was told that all the furniture in the attic was gone. When I tried to go to the attic and check for myself, the attic door would not open. Is it true that the furniture was sold?” Miriam demanded confronting Marcus and Tristan, while she all but ignored Arabella.
Tristan frowned in annoyance, his arm and side were now throbbing painfully and he was in no mood to deal with Miriam now, even if it had been his plan to sell off the furniture to set her off.
“Indeed, I asked Mr. Berkley to sell off all the old furniture in the attic. It is of no use, and I need the funds to pay off debts. Also as the attic is now empty I thought it would be safer if the attic was off limit to the staff and my nephews, so I had the locks replaced. I’m also having the locks to the third floor rooms changed as a matter of safety. Is there a problem?” Tristan asked feigning boredom.
“But, you had no right to do that. I need the key to the attic,” Miriam sputtered.
“No right, no right? You once again over step your place Miriam and for the last time. This is my house, mine and Lady Arabella’s, and I own everything in it. You and my mother will be leaving for Rawlings in three days; I am tired of your attitude towards me, my wife and Mr. Berkley. As for the key to the attic that is out of the question, you have no need to enter it. Now if there is nothing else I am tired as is my lady wife,” Tristan stated and saw Miriam’s eyes widen.
“No, no, you can’t send us away, especially not to a desolate hole. And I’m sorry if I sounded impertinent, but I’d stored something in the attic,” Miriam protested, though her tone was less than apologetic.
“Well, everything is gone, and I mean everything except for a few chairs and a table in Lady Arabella’s new sitting room there,” Marcus replied with a shrug.
“If you are unhappy, Miriam, you are free to quit. I will give you two pounds severance pay, and I’m sure my mother will write you a letter of reference, now if you will excuse us.” Tristan turned again towards the office.
“But I can’t leave,” Miriam protested, turning dark red.
Tristan shrugged, “That is your problem Miriam, but you will not be staying.”
Tristan opened the door to the office and motioned for Arabella to precede him, then stepped through not bothering to look back at Miriam as he did.
Arabella stepped into the office, followed by Tristan and then Marcus, leaving a sputtering Miriam in the hall. As Arabella moved towards her normal chair, Buttons appeared, pushing a tea trolley laden with a pot of tea, three cups, two plates of biscuits, as well as a bowl of water, a bar of soap, and a clean white towel.
“I overheard what you said to Miss Miriam. I, for one sir, will be glad to see the back of her.” Buttons commented.
Marcus stifled a chortle as he nodded in agreement. “I agree, Mr. Buttons.”
“Ah, Buttons, before I forget, please let Cook know that we will have two guests for dinner, Mr. Burns and Mr. Waterhouse. Simple fair is fine as neither of them is high in the instep, just be sure it is plentiful as both gentlemen have large appetites.” Tristan stated.
“Of course, sir, anything else?” Buttons asked.
“No, that is it, and thank you, Buttons,” Tristan replied.
With a nod, Buttons stepped from the room, closing the door after him. As soon as he stepped from the room, Marcus stepped up to the secret panel and checked behind it while Tristan locked the office door.
“You should wash your hands, and then we should have tea,” Arabella said, stepping up to and motioning for him to remove his jacket.
“Aye, you are right.” Tristan, with a wince, eased out of his torn jacket and flopped it over the back of the closest chair, then rolled up his shirt sleeves as Arabella handed him the bar of soap, and then began setting the plates of biscuits on the desk.
Tristan grabbed the bar of soap and plunged his hands into the bowl of warm water, hissing in pain as the scrapes burned. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he lathered up his hands the water turning pink after a few moments. Shaking his hands, he grabbed the towel and blotted them clean. He was starting to move around his desk when there was a knock on the door, and Buttons opened it and looked in.
“I’m sorry, my lord, but Mr. Morgan is here to see you. I told him that you had just returned and were occupied, but he said that it was an urgent matter and that he needs to speak to you at once,” Buttons stated, looking decidedly uneasy.
“It must be about Rawling’s, I asked him to look into whether or not Father and Allister sold off any of the land. Please show him in,” Tristan said.
“And would you bring another teacup?” Arabella added.
“Of course,” Buttons gave them a nod and stepped away from the door as Marcus crossed to the secret passageway. Marcus opened the passageway, quickly checking to be sure it was empty, and then closed it as Mr. Morgan stepped into the office.
Mr. Morgan nodded his thanks to Buttons as he closed the door after him, and then, hat in hand, turned to nod to Marcus, Tristan, and Arabella.
“My lord, thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Mr. Morgan began, and then, seeing Tristan in his shirt sleeves with his damaged hands, he frowned. “My lord, you had an accident?”
“Lady Arabella and I were accosted by a thug a few minutes ago; our attacker suffered worse than I did.” Tristan replied with a smile, “Would you care for a seat? We were just about to have some chamomile tea.”
“Ah, yes, thank you, and I am glad you and your lady wife were not badly injured. I must apologize for coming unannounced, but it is rather an urgent matter,” Mr. Morgan replied as Marcus motioned him to take one of the chairs before the desk.
Arabella stepped up to pour tea, handing a cup to Mr. Morgan as there was a knock on the door and Jimmy stepped into the room, bearing a silver tray with a cup and saucer on it and another tray of biscuits.
“My lady,” Jimmy said, setting the cup and tray of biscuits on the desk, before turning to step up to the tea trolley. “Do you need anything else, my lady?”
“No, thank you, Jimmy,” Arabella replied, and with a nod Jimmy began wheeling away the tea trolley, pausing to shut the door behind him.
Arabella finished pouring everyone tea, then, taking her cup, moved around the desk to settle into her normal seat while Tristan eased into his desk chair. As Tristan sat, Marcus grabbed one of the plates of biscuits and settled onto the edge of his chair with his cup of tea.
Tristan gave Marcus a wry look as he began munching one of the biscuits.
“What, I’m hungry, the boys and I worked through lunch,” Marcus protested around a mouthful of ginger biscuit.
“Please, Mr. Morgan, what did you need to see me about?” Tristan asked, dropping a sugar cube into his cup.
“Ah, yes,” Mr. Morgan ignored the exchange between Tristan and Marcus and leaned forward in his chair to take his cup of tea. “The afternoon of my last visit I returned to my office and dispatched my head clerk, Mr. Madigan and a new solicitor in my office, Mr. Smithers to Rawlings to determine whether or not the sale of the property was actually done by your father or brother or not. Mr. Madigan has worked for me for twenty years and is not only familiar with your family’s account but your father and his handwriting.”
“My word, how efficient of you Mr. Morgan, I know we discussed the matter but I am impressed that you were so expeditious in taking care of the matter,” Tristan stated. He was shocked and impressed with how quickly Mr. Morgan had acted.
“Thank you, sir; I was greatly outraged with what I heard when we last spoke, and with what I learned from Mr. Burns at Scotland Yard. Your father and I worked together for a long time, and I respected him greatly. I am also an officer of the court, and as such, I regard crimes seriously.” Mr. Morgan stated. Marcus offered him the plate of ginger biscuits, and with a polite nod Mr. Morgan took one.
“Please tell us what you discovered?” Tristan stated, noticing then that Mr. Morgan was looking at Arabella. “What you have to say, you can say before my wife.”
“Yes, of course, my lord, as I was saying, I sent Mr. Smithers and Mr. Madigan to investigate. They spoke to Mr. Thornton at some length about everything we had discussed. Mr. Thornton said that a few months before the death of your father, he received a letter from Mr. Keene saying that he was now in charge of your father’s accounts and was his man of affairs. Accompanying the letter was a one-sentence note reportedly signed by your father stating that Mr. Keene now had full authority over all his holdings.” Mr. Marcus paused to finish his biscuit. “Mr. Thornton was reportedly suspicious and sent a letter to your father demanding clarity on the matter. He received another brief one-sentence response from your father saying Mr. Keene was now in charge of everything, accompanied by a letter from Mr. Keene stating that if he was troublesome again, he would be terminated.”
Tristan frowned, not liking what he heard, “But Mr. Thornton has worked for my father since I was a boy.”
“Indeed, sir, I thought it was beyond odd myself,” Mr. Morgan replied, reaching for another biscuit. “Mr. Thornton further stated that he had sent a letter to your brother about the matter and again received a letter back from Mr. Keene saying that he was in charge and that his position was again in jeopardy and to begin dismissing staff. Mr. Thornton that was odd, as most of the staff had been with the family for over a decade.”
“It sounds like Mr. Keene was trying to remove anyone and everyone who would question what he was doing,” Marcus stated.
“I concur. What else did your men learn?” Tristan asked, taking a sip of his tea.
“Mr. Madigan stated that he examined the notes that were supposed to have come from your father, as well as the signature, and while they looked similar, the writing was not a match. Mr. Madigan believes that the notes were forgeries.” Mr. Morgan stated.
“Good heavens,” Arabella gasped, looking over at Tristan.
“Indeed, please continue,” Tristan said as he pulled a sheet of paper out of his desk and began writing down what Mr. Morgan had said.
“Mr. Smithers and Mr. Madigan then began questioning the tenant farmers. Shortly after the death of your father a Mr. Mortimer Lester arrived at Rawlings. He told Mr. Thornton that he had purchased all the land belonging to the estate that was not entailed, though the only proof he presented was a letter from Mr. Keene.” Mr. Morgan stated. “In addition, Mr. Lester told the tenant farmers that he was their new lord and that he would be raising their rents.”
“Bloody hell,” Marcus exclaimed. “Sorry, Arabella.”
“It is fine, I feel the same,” Arabella replied, taking a long sip of tea to calm her nerves.
“Indeed, my lady, my sentiments as well, Mr. Lester also reportedly approached the daughters of two of the tenant farmers. According to Mr. Smithers, the young women are sixteen and seventeen and very comely. Mr. Lester apparently told the parents that he would consider reducing the amount of rent they owed if they gave him his daughters.” Mr. Morgan shuddered at the distasteful idea and reached for his tea.
“The swine,” Tristan snapped, then looked over at Arabella. “Mr. Lester was a Rawlings when I went to meet Lady Arabella. He not only attempted to kidnap Lady Arabella and force her to marry him, thinking my uncle left her a large inheritance, but tried to do bodily harm to both myself and Mr. Berkley.”
“Good heavens, the man is indeed a swine, my lord. Mr. Smithers and Mr. Madigan went and spoke to the local magistrate as well as the local sheriff and tax collector. While the sale or transfer of ownership of small properties does not have to be registered with authorities, any large-scale purchase or transfer does.” Mr. Morgan set down his empty cup. “Rawlings estate is one hundred and twenty acres. Transfer of ownership of such a large amount would have to be registered with the magistrate and the local tax agent, if it had transpired. As there is no official record of transfer then I and the magistrate of Rawlings conclude that it never happened that everything Mr. Lester claimed is false. You sir are the legal owner of Rawlings. My men told the local magistrate and the sheriff everything they believed and the sheriff of Rawlings concurred. He has issued a warrant for the arrest of Mr. Lester.”
Tristan sat back in relief as he pondered everything that Mr. Morgan had told him. It was a great weight off his shoulders to know that he would not have to buy back Rawlings, that the land was his and only his.
“Thank you, Mr. Morgan; I don’t know how to thank you. You have brought us wonderful news and taken a great weight off my mind.” Tristan stated.
“You are welcome, sir. I am happy to have provided you with the answers you sought and helped stop a crime. I’m afraid, though, that there is some bad news; the funds from the tenants’ rents were stolen by Mr. Lester with the help from Mr. Keene. The rents for decades have been deposited in the small bank in the Town of Rawlings, so that the funds were readily available for improvements to the estate. The manager of the bank said that Mr. Lester presented a letter supposedly from your father and one from Mr. Keene saying that he had access to the funds. Mr. Lester withdrew all the funds in the account, sir.” Mr. Morgan shook his head.
“Do you by chance know how much was in the account?” Tristan asked. He hoped it was not a large amount.
“One moment, sir.” Mr. Morgan pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and scanned it quickly.
“I’m afraid it was a little over twenty thousand pounds, sir. This is the exact amount that was stolen as well as the name of the head magistrate and sheriff in Rawlings. Mr. Smithers and Mr. Madigan let both gentlemen know that you are the true and sole heir of Rawlings.” Mr. Morgan leaned forward to hand the paper to Tristan.
“Thank you again, Mr. Morgan, and thank your men for me as well.” Tristan looked at the paper, then turned to hand it to Arabella. “If I might ask one final question, did Mr. Thornton by any chance tell your men why he did not inform me of any of this? It would have saved a great deal of time and anxiety if I’d been made aware of this.”
“Indeed, Mr. Smithers asked such a question of Mr. Thornton. Mr. Thornton acknowledged that he had received your missives but was under the understanding that Mr. Lester and Mr. Keene were somehow still in charge, especially as Mr. Lester repeatedly showed up at Thornton. My men informed Mr. Thornton of the situation, and he sent his apologies,” Mr. Morgan pulled out a letter from his pocket and held it out to Tristan, who took it with a nod.
“I shall have to come to your office, sir, and thank your staff personally for their proficiency. I would ask one last thing, Mr. Morgan. Would it be possible to have your men visit Scotland Yard and relate all that you have told me to Mr. Burns? It would help him build his case against Mr. Lester.” Tristan asked.
“It is already done, sir. After they conferred with me this morning, I sent them to Scotland Yard to speak to Mr. Burns. Is there anything else you need, Sir?” Mr. Morgan inquired.
“The army could use your efficiency, Mr. Morgan,” Marcus stated, then, with a frown, he looked up at Tristan. “You know, Tris that isn’t a bad idea.”
Tristan looked at Marcus for a moment as he considered his friend’s words. “That is indeed a sound idea. Mr. Morgan, would you consider working as an advisor from time to time for the War Department? Mr. Berkley and I work there analyzing dispatches, and from time to time, we encounter something that could use the expertise of a solicitor. Would you be interested in perhaps consulting from time to time?”
Mr. Morgan smiled broadly, then nodded. “Yes, sir, that would be most agreeable. I briefly served myself and would be honored to once again serve my country. If there is nothing else sir, I shall take my leave.”
Tristan rose and, leaning over the desk, held out his hand to Mr. Morgan, who rose as well and gave it a hearty shake. “I can see myself out my lord.”
Tristan watched Mr. Morgan close the office door after him, and heard the muffled sound of Buttons wish him good day, and the closing of the front door.
“That was informative and good news as well,” Marcus stated, reaching for another ginger biscuit. “What did you learn from your meeting with Mrs. Waterhouse?”
“Now that is interesting,” Tristan replied, then finished his cup of tea. Over the next few minutes, Tristan and Arabella told Marcus all they had learned earlier about Mrs. Lester and the house. When they finished relating what they had learned, everyone sat back and pondered what they had learned in the past few hours.
After a good five minutes of silence, Marcus was the first to speak, breaking the awkward silence.
“Well, that is all fascinating, and it explains a lot, but how are Mrs. Lester and her weasel of a son related to Mr. Keene and Miriam? What do they all have in common? And why would they want to murder your whole family, other than for the money, of course? ” Marcus asked.
Arabella tapped her right fingers on the desk top beside her teacup as she tried to remember something; it was something important that lingered just at the edge of her memory. It had been a conversation she had overheard between Lady Amelia and her mother, over ten years ago, something about her cousin Katherine being overly fond of her eldest son at the expense of her two younger children.
“Oh, my I suddenly remember something, a conversation I overheard between your aunt Amelia and my mother over a decade ago, it was about Katherine Lester,” Arabella exclaimed.
“What did she say?” Tristan asked, looking up from his sheet where he’d been studying his notes on both their meeting at Mrs. Waterhouse and what Mr. Morgan had said.
“They were discussing their children and Lady Amelia said she thought it was odd that her cousin, Katherine always showed such favoritism towards her eldest son Mortimer. That she had only met her cousin’s two youngest children twice and as a mother she could not imagine showing such favoritism, as it seemed cruel to the younger children.” Arabella stated.
“Mrs. Lester has other children; do you remember what they are?” Tristan asked. Pieces were starting to come together slowly but the full picture was just out of reach, just like a figure in dense fog, you knew a figure was there but you couldn’t make it out clearly. Pieces were eluding him, important pieces and it was beyond vexing.
“Yes, yes, she had another son and a daughter. But Mortimer was always her favorite; she always brought him with her when she came to Avondale.” Arabella stated, her frown deepened. “I remember overhearing Mrs. Lester arguing with Lady Amelia on more than one occasion that Avondale should be her’s. That if it could not be hers, then it would be her grandchildren’s that she wanted to form a marriage agreement between Noah and her daughter.”
“Hell, the pieces are starting to come together; do you remember their names by any chance?” Tristan asked.
Arabella shook her head, “No, I don’t remember ever meeting them. But I think I saw them once when I was about ten, it was almost Christmas, and Mrs. Lester had once again arrived unexpectedly. I was in the kitchen helping Mrs. Jenkins make biscuits. Lady Amelia had rung for tea, but she and the footmen were busy, so I offered to push the tea trolley into the sitting room. Mrs. Lester was there with her children. Now that I think about it they all had the same shade of brown hair? What shade of hair did Mr. Keene have?”
“Brown, he had brown hair, as does Miriam, what you think that Miriam and Mr. Keene could be her other children? That this is all some twisted plot to take back her lost inheritance?” Marcus asked.
“It makes sense if you think about it. Mrs. Lester could certainly tell her children about the secret passageways in the house. Mrs. Lester felt slighted and angry; she had been promised a marriage to a Sizemore, and it hadn’t happened. When her plans to trap either my uncle or father into marriage fell through, as a result, she was embarrassed, shunned, and forced to leave London. It would certainly give her cause to seek revenge. ” Tristan replied, tapping his pencil on the sheet before him.
“It does make sense, horrible sense. What do we do now? Marcus asked, leaning back in his chair and drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.
“We tell what we know to Jules tonight and compare notes, and then we set a trap with the correct bait,” Tristan replied as a plan came to him.
“A trap, what kind of a trap, and what do you mean, correct bait?” Arabella asked, though she had the sinking feeling she already knew the answer.
“Me, of course, there have been several attempts on my life already. We let some comments slip that we know my father and brothers were poisoned before Miriam, and that my friend at Scotland Yard is closing in on who did it, and see what happens.” Tristan replied.
“I don’t like it, I don’t like it one bit.” Arabella protested, though she knew what Tristan said made sense.
“It will be all right, Arabella; Tristan won’t be going to battle alone. He has us and Mr. Roberts and Jules to watch his back, and you are just as fierce a fighter as any man in our regiment. I picked up a pocket pistol for you today while I was out selling the furniture. It’s small, just one shot at a time, but it will stop a man in his tracks.” Marcus stated.
“A pistol, for me?” Arabella asked in surprise and saw Marcus nod.
“I can’t be at Tristan’s side all the time, and I learned in the army that men often underestimate women and that can be their undoing.” Marcus gave Arabella a reassuring smile.
Tristan turned to squeeze Arabella’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Bella, in a day or so this will all be over, and we can finally begin to live.” Tristan could see Arabella worry her lower lip, obviously not liking the plan he had just proposed.
After a moment, Arabella nodded her head in resignation, “Very well, and thank you for the pistol Marcus. Sir Howard showed me how to shoot so I should be able to use it, but I want my protests noted, Tristan. Now, if we have finished, I need to tend those scratches.”
Tristan leaned over to kiss Arabella on the cheek. “Aye, my lady, we need to finish our plans and what to tell Jules later.
“That is simple, we tell him everything and get his help for the fight ahead, now you go get clean and have Arabella tend your hands,” Marcus stated, jerking his head towards the door.
Tristan rose, wincing as sore muscles screamed in protest. “And what will you be doing?”
“Finishing the biscuits, and then I’ll be up to show Arabella the pistol, and Tristan, I don’t like this plan either, but I understand your reasons.” Marcus gave his friend a long, hard look as he tried to convey unsaid what he felt, that Tristan was more than his friend, more than his former superior, he was his brother in every way that mattered.
“Thank you both of you, but I’m not planning on dying any time soon; I have a great deal to live for. Now I think I will take your advice and let Arabella tend my injuries,” Tristan gave Arabella a suggestive wink, then motioned to the door. Arabella blushed as she understood Tristan’s innuendo and hurried past him towards the office door. As Arabella crossed to the door, Marcus let out a low chuckle, earning a glare from Tristan, who hurried after her.
* * * *
Tristan looked up from his book as Buttons ushered both Jules and Victor into the salon, “Mr. Victor Waterhouse and Mr. Jules Burns.”
Tristan closed his book and set it on the table beside him, and rose to greet his friends as Marcus did the same. “Welcome, Jules, Victor, please come in and have a seat. The ladies will join us shortly, Arabella knew we would want to talk before dinner and wanted to give us some privacy.”
“Of course, how are your hands?” Victor asked as Marcus walked up to the sideboard to select a decanter of brandy, then held it up, earning a nod from Victor and one from Jules.
“A bit stiff, but I’ve suffered worse,” Tristan replied as Marcus stepped up to Victor and Jules with drinks in his hands. The men took their drinks with nods of thanks, and then each took one of the empty chairs before the dark blue divan.
“I’m glad you were not hurt worse. Your attacker, after two hours in the lower cells, was rather talkative.” Jules looked over at Jules and then gave Tristan a questioning look.
“Victor is a friend and will keep quiet about anything we discuss, so you may speak freely before him,” Tristan replied as Marcus waved the decanter at him, and Tristan shook his head. Tristan wanted to keep his wits until everything had been discussed; he didn’t want to miss anything Jules said because he was drunk.
“So what did the cur say?” Marcus asked, grabbing one of the empty chairs that were placed along the wall and carrying it over to set it beside Jules.
Jules shook his head, “I will wait for Lady Arabella to join us, as I know she will want to hear what I have to say. So Tristan, share your news first.”
“Of course, let me send one of the footmen for Arabella, then I shall happily tell you what we learned today.” Tristan rose and walked over to the door. He opened it and looked into the foyer and was relieved to see Davis standing across the hall by the door to the office. Davis looked up as Tristan stepped into the foyer.
“Can I help you, my lord?” Davis asked, stepping forward.
“Yes, Davis, would you please ask Lady Arabella to join us? I believe she is in her sitting room,” Tristan asked.
“Of course, my lord,” Davis gave Tristan a nod, then hurried up the stairs to the second floor as Tristan stepped back into the sitting room. He crossed back to the chaise lounge and resumed his seat, eagerly waiting for Arabella to join them.
“Now, you want to know what Arabella and I learned,” Tristan took a deep breath as he prepared to begin.
* * * *
Arabella looked up from her stitching to stare at the small clock on the mantel for what seemed like the twentieth time. It had been her suggestion to wait to join Tristan and Marcus to allow them time to speak privately with Jules and Victor, but now she was cursing herself as her curiosity was setting her on edge and making her anxious.
“I finished the teal muslin, my lady,” Mia said, holding up a lovely teal colored gown of fine muslin. The gown was another one that had belonged to Lady Amelia and just needed a few alterations to fit Arabella’s smaller figure. The gown was perfect for informal dinners or for informal affairs such as card parties, Mia had exclaimed when they had pulled the gown out of the trunk of gowns from Avondale.
“Oh, thank you, Mia, you missed your calling as a seamstress, you did an amazing job,” Arabella said, putting her embroidery to one side to rise. She was about to work over to Mia when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Arabella called, and Davis stepped inside.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but Sir Tristan asked if you would join him now,” Davis said.
“Oh, thank you, Davis, I will be there in a moment,” Arabella replied. Davis gave him a nod and then turned to quickly walk away.
“Take the rest of the night off, Mia; I can undress myself as can Lady Penelope,” Arabella said and saw Mia smile.
“Thank you, miss. Would it be all right if I kept company with Mr. Roberts tonight? He wants to teach me how to play Draw Game. It will be proper; we will keep the door open, miss.” Mia asked.
“Oh, yes, of course, enjoy yourself. I didn’t know you liked Mr. Roberts; he is a fine gentleman,” Arabella stated as she turned towards the door.
“Yes, ma’am, he is ever so kind and respectful,” Mia replied. “Have a good evening, ma’am.”
“Thank you, you too, Mia,” Arabella replied, and picking up the hem of her elegant dark green gown, hurried down the corridor and then the steps to the foyer. When Arabella reached the last step, she saw Davis hovering by the door to the parlor. With a nod, he turned to open the door for her, then stepped to one side.
Arabella stepped into the parlor, and Tristan rose at her entrance, Victor and Jules began to stand, and she shook her head. “No, please, gentlemen, remain seated,” Arabella said and stepped up to Tristan, who held out his hand to her. Arabella took his hand, noting the scratches with displeasure; she didn’t like it that he’d been hurt. He must have sensed her feelings because he gave her hand a squeeze as he helped her to settle on the chaise beside him.
“I told them about what we learned a moment ago about the house and Mrs. Lester. Jules said he has something important to tell us and wanted to wait for you,” Tristan stated.
“I’m all ears,” Arabella stated, sitting on the edge of the chaise, looking anxiously over at Jules.
“Well, first, the man who attacked you earlier was very talkative after a bit of time in the lower cells. The cells are dark, damp and a bit unpleasant, shall I say. He told us that an older woman and a tall dark-haired gentleman paid him to attack you.” Jules stated before pausing to take a sip of brandy. “He also said that after you were dispatched he was to take the red-haired lady with him and bring her to the Fox and Hound Tavern just outside the city limits, where he would rendezvous with the lady and gentleman. That the lady was not to be harmed in any way. After the lady was brought to the tavern, she was to be taken to a ruined church some ten miles outside the city, where she would wed a gentleman.”
“What, that is outrageous?” Arabella gasped as beside her, Tristan let out a low growl and Marcus a soft curse.
“If I understand you correctly, after I was dispatched, the brute was going to drag Arabella to this tavern, then from there to some ruined church and try to force her to wed someone?” Tristan was beyond angry now; he was enraged. They could come after him, but Arabella was off limits.
“Bloody hell, and what would be the point of forcing her to wed someone?” Marcus snapped.
“Well, having studied the law, I can tell you that as Tristan’s widow, Arabella would inherit all his property. By marrying Arabella whoever this person is, he would take possession of all of Tristan’s properties.” Victor added.
“As if I would agree to that, and how would they stop me from protesting this forced marriage, even if it did go through?” Arabella was outraged at the thought of someone trying to force her to marry them.
“I’m afraid, Arabella, that it would be your word against theirs. All this person would need were some witnesses stating that you wed this man. Unfortunately, the law usually rules in favor of the man as women are believed to be flighty, emotional creatures.” Victor shook his head. “My mother had two friends forced to marry against their will when they were young, and then afterwards they were declared imbalanced and committed to insane asylums. Their husbands took all their money and happily lived with their mistresses. The unfortunate ladies both died in the asylums from so-called brain fevers. My father was so outraged at this that he began petitioning Parliament to change the laws, but as of now, all the laws are in the men’s favor.”
“That is barbaric and unfair,” Arabella protested.
“I agree completely, but nothing can be done unless the laws are changed.” Victor looked pointedly at Tristan. “Perhaps as a Member of Parliament, Tristan could try to change the laws, but it will take time.”
“I agree with Arabella that the law needs to change, now Jules what else did your men discover?” Tristan asked.
“The coroner said that your brother Richard was also poisoned, that he found a large quantity of arsenic in his body. In addition, after a great deal of searching, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that Dr. Fletcher never graduated from any university in England, Scotland, or Ireland.” Jules stated with an empathic nod.
“So a fake doctor was treating my father? A fake doctor who based on the description of him, was the man seen kissing Miriam? Miriam, who was drugging my mother and Penelope for months?” Tristan stated as the pieces began to come together.
“Yes, indeed, and there is more.” Jules pulled a small notebook out of his inner jacket pocket and flipped it open, “After you told me about Mrs. Lester coming here and making demands, I sent some men to look into her. Following her failed attempt to force your uncle to marry her, she left London and married a Mr. Donald Lester. He was about ten years older than her and a very rich industrialist. According to what my men learned Mr. Lester was madly in love with Katherine, but she barely tolerated him. When their eldest son, Mortimer was fifteen, Mr. Lester died suddenly.”
“What do you mean died suddenly?” Marcus asked with a frown.
“Well, the neighbors told my men that Mr. Lester had always been in very good health, that he didn’t drink, smoke, or use snuff. He was also a bird watcher and liked to walk to work every day and was a member of a boxing club. Yet suddenly one day, he was found dead in the forest next to his manor. Mrs. Lester had a doctor, who was a friend, declare that he had died from a heart attack. Though the neighbors happily told my men that they believed she poisoned him.” Jules stated.
“Good heavens, that is indeed suspicious,” Arabella exclaimed, earning nods of agreement from the others.
“Indeed, there is more. Apparently, you are correct that Mrs. Lester has two sons and a daughter. The daughter, Margaret, married a gentleman from Bristol who was an apothecary when she was seventeen, and a week after her father died. The late Mr. Lester did not approve of the match, though Mrs. Lester had thought the man was fine.” Jules looked down at his notes for a moment, then back up. “The apothecary, one Mr. Forester, is wanted in Edinburgh, Perth, and Bath for suspicion of poisoning numerous widows as a means to cheat them out of their funds. Mr. Forester is apparently tall, with dark hair and wide shoulders, and likes to style himself as a gentleman, as his father was a penniless baron. The sons were called Mortimer and Evan, Mortimer you met at Avondale when you caught him trying to rob you. Evan is said to have studied to be a clerk and is of average height with brown hair and a thin hatchet-like face. Despite extensive searching no one has been able to find either of them.”
Tristan shook his head; everything made sense now horrible, horrible sense. “All right, Mrs. Katherine grew up in this house and was promised to marry either my father or my uncle. When that didn’t happen, she tried to trap my father and was humiliated and forced to leave London in disgrace. She married Mr. Lester shortly afterwards and had three children, two sons and a daughter. Mr. Lester, an apparently healthy man, died suddenly, leaving Mrs. Lester and her children wealthy and allowing his daughter Margaret to marry a Mr. Forester, a murderous apothecary. Do I have everything correct so far?”
Jules and the others all nodded in agreement. “Mr. Forester then is likely the fake Dr. Fletcher who wormed his way into the lives of my father and brothers and poisoned them. I’m surmising that Margaret Lester is Miriam, who has been dosing my mother and sister with a compound containing laudanum in an effort to confuse and control them, and I’m guessing that Mr. Ebenezer Keene is the second son Evan, who was working here to destroy my family.” Tristan paused and saw the others all nodding in agreement. “Mrs. Lester and her eldest son, Mortimer, have been trying to find a way to take Avondale for years, and failing that they decided to destroy my family. After poisoning and killing my father and brothers, Mr. Forester and Miriam, pretending to be Penelope and me, went about London and began emptying out all my father’s accounts. They are now planning to murder me and abduct Arabella and force her to marry Mortimer, I’m guessing, as a means to gain all my holdings. Have I missed anything, anyone?”
Marcus looked at Arabella who nodded, then over at Tristan. “Aye that seems to be everything.”
“So if you know all of this then, why don’t you arrest them?” Arabella asked in frustration.
“I wish I could, Lady Arabella, but all I have is heresy and the word of two men from the lower class. None of it would stand up in court,” Jules shook his head as he put his notebook away. “And I don’t where Mrs. Lester, her sons, or Mr. Fletcher are hiding. And I have no proof that Miriam is, in fact, Margaret Lester the wife of suspected poisoner Mr. Forester. There is nothing I can do but wait and hope one of them makes a mistake so I can catch them.”
“I already surmised as much. We shall have to draw them all out. To do so we shall have to set a trap for them,” Tristan stated. “And use me as the bait.”
“Hell,” Marcus rumbled. “I didn’t like this plan when you suggested it earlier, and I loathe it now. But you are right, we have no other option. You can’t spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”
“I agree, I have already begun setting the trap,” Tristan stated.
“Your telling Miriam that you mean to send her and your mother away, you are hoping it will stir her up to act?” Arabella stated, and saw Tristan nod.
“Indeed, which is why I’m hoping I can ask a favor of you, Jules?” Tristan turned to look at his friend.
“You need not even ask. What do you need?” Jules asked.
“I’m expecting either her or Mr. Keene, whom I believe was living in the attic, to act either tonight or tomorrow night, especially after today’s failed attempt on my life. Miriam was enraged that we sold off the attic furniture and changed the locks. I’m hoping that it will provoke her and the others to act.” Tristan replied. “Which is why I’m asking that tonight after supper you sneak around the back of the house, and let Roberts escort you to one of the empty rooms down from Arabella and mine.”
“And then if something happens, I shall be there to make an arrest. I shall be delighted to help.” Jules replied, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“I would also like to volunteer my services. I might just be a publisher, but I know how to fight. And if I can help catch a ring of killers that is threatening my new friends, all the better, especially if you agree to let me publish a heavily edited account of what happens later.” Jules stated.
“Agreed, if you let me read the piece first,” Tristan replied, and saw Jules nod in agreement.
“Then after dinner we set the trap, and if the fates are willing, this will all be over tomorrow,” Tristan reached over to squeeze Arabella’s hand and saw her nod.
“Agreed, tonight we begin operation catch Mr. Keene,” Marcus quipped, earning smiles and head shakes from the others.
The mantel clock chimed six just as there was a knock on the door, and Penelope opened it and stepped inside.
“Oh hello everyone, Cook says dinner is ready, and mother wants to speak to you Tristan,” Penelope stated. Her eyes slid to Jules and she smiled broadly. “Mr. Burns, I’m so happy that you could join us.”
“Excellent, Arabella, Marcus, would you take the others to the dining room, and I will see what mother wants.” Tristan rose and, putting down his hand, helped Arabella up. He could sense that she wasn’t pleased with what they discussed, but he wanted the murders of his family caught, and he badly wanted to get on with his life with Arabella. And he would do whatever it took to achieve that end.