Chapter Twenty Seven
Tristan helped Arabella into her seat at the breakfast table, earning a smile of gratitude in return. At the end of the room, Marcus entered, looking a bit tired, but then again, he hadn’t returned till nearly two in the morning. He nodded to Arabella and Tristan as he made his way to the sideboard to grab breakfast. Tristan and Arabella preferred to eat breakfast in peace without servants hovering about to serve them.
Tristan nodded in return as he stepped up to the sideboard.
“What do you want to eat, Bella?” Tristan asked as Penelope swept into the breakfast room, followed a moment later by Miriam, who was dressed in her normal dark grey gown.
“Just toast and eggs, thank you,” Arabella replied, placing her linen napkin on her lap. She was burning to know what had happened after they had left the ball. Both Marcus and Mr. Waterhouse had looked murderous when Arabella had last seen them in the garden. Arabella completely understood the feeling of rage at what had happened to Clara, a young lady should be safe at a ton ball and not need a chaperone every moment. When Tristan had carried Clara into her home, Mrs. Waterhouse had thanked both Tristan and Arabella for coming to Clara’s aid and said they should not worry about what had happened, as Mr. Waterhouse would take care of the nefarious gentlemen.
Tristan obligingly placed several spoonfuls of scrambled eggs and three slices of golden toast on her plate as Marcus began filling his plate beside him.
“Morning, Marcus, all good?” Tristan asked as he placed eggs and sausage on his own plate.
“Taken care of, I’ll brief you and Arabella after breakfast,” Marcus replied as he filled his plate to overflowing, while Penelope and Miriam stepped up to the sideboard.
“Good Morning, Lady Penelope. How are the young masters this morning?,” Marcus asked as he took a seat on Tristan’s left, then looked across the table to nod to Arabella.
“Good, thank you, and full of energy. They wished to join us for breakfast but, I told them that you had all been out late and might prefer a quiet breakfast. And don’t think I won’t ask you all about what happened last night, I’m burning with curiosity,” Penelope replied, filling her plate before settling into a seat two down from Marcus and then reaching for one of the newspapers set neatly on the table.
“That was considerate of you, but Arabella and I had an early, night and the boys are always welcome,” Tristan replied before digging into his food.
“Indeed, some youthful vigor is much needed I think, and while I returned from the ball later than Tristan and Arabella, I enjoy their company,” Marcus added while he also attacked his food with gusto.
“Children should be seen and not heard. And what ball are you talking about? I did not know you went to a ball,” Miriam commented sullenly from the other end of the table.
Tristan just ignored Miriam as he shook his head, then poured Arabella a steaming cup of tea, then waved the pot at Marcus, who pointed to the pot of coffee near Tristan’s elbow.
Arabella looked down the table at Miriam and forced a smile. “I’m sorry, Miriam, but I did not think our social schedule was your concern, as you and her ladyship prefer your own company. A friend secured us all invitations to the first ball of the season so that Tristan and I could begin to make our way among the ton.”
At her reply, Miriam seemed to turn grey, and her stone-like visage turned to one of anger, which made Arabella wonder why she should care if they attended social functions and made new friends.
“It simply isn’t done; Lord Sizemore and his sons have all been dead for less than a year. Society requires that you all remain at home, and in morning, your marriage to Lord Tristan is scandalous enough, but to go out and attend social functions is outrageous. She shall upset her ladyship with your crude behavior. She will demand that you stay home from now on, and in addition, you must stop receiving callers. The house should be in morning,” Miriam intoned, glaring at Arabella.
“As I was not close to my father and brothers, I do not care what the ton thinks, nor did I ask for nor need your approval, Miriam. If I choose to attend social functions with my wife and friend, then I shall, and I don’t need your approval or my mother’s. Once again, you have overstepped your bounds.” Tristan stated, giving Arabella a hard look before returning to his food.
Miriam made a loud hump and leveled a hateful look at Tristan, “You shall regret your scandalous behavior you shall see.”
Penelope rustled the paper loudly as if to break the tension, “You are in the paper, Tristan,” Penelope stated, looking down the table to her brother.
“Indeed, and what does it say?” Tristan asked half in dread and half in curiosity.
“It says Lord Tristan Sizemore, the new Earl of Banbury, set hearts a flutter by not only dancing the first two dances with his lovely bride but also kissed her in the middle of the dance floor. His actions dispelling the rumors that his marriage to his lovely bride was arranged,” Penelope put the paper down and looked at Tristan.
“Did you really kiss Arabella in public?” Penelope asked, setting the paper down and reaching for another one.
“I did, she looked so fetching in her new gown that I couldn’t resist,” Tristan replied as he laid his hand over Arabella’s for a heartbeat. “Are we in the other papers as well?”
“Let me see what the society page says,” Penelope flipped through the paper for several moments. “Umm, yes, you are in the Herald as well. It says that the new Earl of Banbury, Lord Tristan Sizemore, a decorated war hero, broke many debutantes’ hearts last night by not only dancing with his lovely bride twice but by kissing her on the dance floor. We cannot find fault with his actions as his bride looked stunning in an emerald gown.”
“Oh, my, would you bring the society section to my office later, Penelope? I would love to clip those notices. Perhaps I shall start a scrapbook to bring home and show my friend Elizabeth.” Arabella stated.
“What, you made a spectacle of yourself, no, no, no, this will never do,” Miriam snapped her eyes flashing in anger.
“And again, what business is it of yours?” Tristan demanded, setting down his fork to glare at Miriam.
“Her ladyship will be greatly distressed at this news, bringing scandal on the family name, and while she has not been herself of late,” Miriam retorted. “Have you no care for the family name and reputation? You must stop all this scandalous activity at once and not attend any more gatherings. If you won’t listen to me, then perhaps you will listen to your mother.” Miriam threw down her napkin and, violently pushing back her chair, stormed from the breakfast room, slamming the door after her with enough force that it rattled the plates.
“I really must do something about her,” Tristan commented, shaking his head in annoyance. “Well, now that we are alone, I was wondering if you would all like a trip to the Botanical garden this afternoon. Marcus and I have work to finish this morning, but after lunch, we should be free. I think we could all do with some sunshine.”
Arabella’s face lit up with delight, “Oh yes that would be wonderful, there are at least twenty more sketches I need to make for Victor.”
“Excellent, I am behind myself on my half of the sketches. After the garden, I thought we could stop at the confectioners and then a book shop, I know Marcus probably needs a new novel,” Tristan proposed.
“Sounds good, after last night, a little quiet time at home sounds delightful,” Marcus stated.
“What do you think Miriam meant by the statement that your mother has not been herself of late?” Arabella asked suddenly as she finished her plate.
“I have no idea, except for the other day when she came to our defense; she rarely speaks to me. And I refuse to go to her; she ignored me for most of my life, and I will not seek her out now.” Tristan stated, finishing his food with angry stabs of his fork.
“I think I might know,” Penelope said softly. “After Arabella told me about her belief that the tonics were mixed with laudanum and that Miriam was using it to control us, I not only stopped taking it but I started diluting mother’s tonic with chamomile tea.”
“That is genius, Pen, pure genius,” Tristan laughed. He liked his liberated older sister and the fact that she finally was acting independently and no longer under the control of their mother.
“Well, I was afraid to throw it all out lest I make mother ill, so I had the boys distract Miriam and mother one day and diluted all her bottles,” Penelope stated with a shrug.
“We could have used you in India, Lady Penelope,” Marcus laughed as he polished off his plate.
“Indeed, now if you ladies will excuse us, Marcus and I must get to work. I don’t want to anger the War Office. Will you be in the conservatory or your office if I need you?” Tristan asked, as he rose to kiss Arabella on the cheek.
“I shall be in my office, working on my drawings. My hand is a bit stiff this morning, and drawing will be easier than lugging about pots I believe,” Arabella replied.
“Will we be receiving today? After having your name in the paper, we are sure to have callers,” Penelope stated, daintily finishing off her toast.
“I suppose so, let Buttons know to put out the knocker. I will be drawing unless we have visitors,” Arabella said. She didn’t really want callers but, it was important for Tristan and her to take their place in the ton.
“Then if I need you, I shall find you in your office,” Tristan stated. He was moving about the table when there was a brisk knock on the breakfast room door, and Roberts stepped inside to nod to everyone.
“Excuse me, my lord, might I have a word with you and Mr. Berkley?” Roberts asked.
“Well, I’m off to take the boys for a walk in the park. I’ll see if I can get Mother to join us.” Penelope rose, nodded to everyone, and swept from the room with the newspapers in her hand.
“Roberts, what do you need?” Tristan asked, frowning in confusion.
“Last night, while I was waiting for Master Berkley to return, I got a bit tired and left the hall to go to the kitchen and fetch some tea. When I returned, I found Miss Miriam in the process of opening the front door.” Roberts stated.
“What time as that Roberts?” Tristan asked in concern.
“It was a bit after one, sir. I had heard the church bell ring just as I stepped back into the foyer. When I called out to her to ask her what she was about, she got angry at me and told me to leave. It was then I heard a man calling out to her,” Roberts stated.
“Hell, what happened then?” Tristan demanded.
“I told her she had no business opening the door without permission from his Lordship or Mr. Buttons in the middle of the night. She told me that if I didn’t leave, she’d not only have my position but also tell the bailey I was a thief. I told her she could try but I still wasn’t going to let her let a stranger into the house. She ran off then, and I went to the door and peered out through the window beside it. I saw a tall man dressed all in black with a pistol in his hand. He began beating on the door, and I yelled for him to leave, and after a moment he did,” Roberts stated.
“Thank you, Roberts, you did right. Why didn’t you tell Mr. Berkley when he came home, if I might ask?” Tristan inquired.
“Well, it was late, sir, and Mr. Marcus looked done in when he returned, but after he went to bed, I stayed in a chair in the foyer right before the door so I knew there would be no more funny business,” Roberts replied. “I’ve been on night watch before Sir.”
“We owe you our thanks and more, Mr. Roberts. I shudder to think what would have happened if that man had gained entry,” Arabella said, rising to stand beside Tristan. After the previous attack on Tristan, it was not a wild leap of the imagination to think that someone wished him harm.
“Indeed, you did well. Please take the rest of the day off, Roberts, and get some rest.” Tristan said, and Roberts nodded.
“Aye, sir, and thank you, if I might say that woman is up to mischief,” Roberts shook his head.
“We agree with you, but at the moment she can’t be discharged, for a variety of reasons,” Tristan wanted to go upstairs, drag Miriam out of his mother’s room, and demand an accounting, but if he did it would tip their hand. All he could do was wait and watch for the right time to move.
“Aye, I understand, so we wait and watch, like in India. We’ll, I’ll go have a lie down then, and thank you, sir.” Roberts gave a nod to Tristan and Marcus. “My lady.” Then he turned and slipped quickly from the room.
“Hell, Tris, we need to do something with that woman,” Marcus stated, his fists balling in range.
“Indeed, but you were there when we spoke to Jules. We need to watch her. But I’ll send a word to Jules and let him know what happened.” Tristan replied. “I think things shall be coming to a head soon. While kissing Arabella was done out of love, the fact that it garnered so much attention is only a plus.”
“And how is it going to be helpful?” Marcus shook his head.
“Tristan is correct, if someone has been running around London pretending to be Tristan for some unknown reason, then Tristan calling attention to himself and thereby establishing to the ton that he is the true Lord Sizemore, it shall only benefit him,” Arabella stated, earning a nod from Tristan.
“Aye, your logic is flawless if I wasn’t so damn tired I’d have seen it myself. Follow me to the office, and I’ll tell you what happened after you left,” Marcus stated. He grabbed two rolls from off the table and stuffing one in his mouth headed for the door.
“Shall we?” Tristan asked earning a nod of agreement from Arabella.
“Indeed I am eager to find out what happened,” Arabella replied letting Tristan escort her from the room.
* * * *
Tristan closed and locked the office door behind him while Marcus checked that there was no one hiding in the secret passageway.
“Well, what happened?” Arabella asked, eager to learn what had happened to Clara’s attackers.
“Let me say first that I would not like to make Mr. Waterhouse angry.” Marcus shook his head. “The man is also built like a mountain, and clever as a fox. After you left, he had me watch those two buggers and went in search of a footman. He came back with two fellows who helped us bundle up the blighters in blankets and ropes, then we heaved them over the wall where it overlooked a back lane.”
“You threw them over the wall?” Arabella asked incredulously. She knew Marcus was strong, but Mr. Waterhouse must be a great deal stronger than he looked. “Good heavens, they might have been injured. Not that they wouldn’t deserve it.”
“Aye, well, we couldn’t just carry them through the house. Mr. Waterhouse gave the footmen his card and a large tip, told them that if they lost their position because of helping him, that he would give them jobs. He paid them enough, though, that they should keep quiet, but I don’t think anyone would believe them if they did talk about what happened.” Marcus replied, motioning for Arabella to sit.
“What happened next?” Tristan asked, easing into his office chair.
“Mr. Waterhouse had his carriage drive down the alley, and with the help of the driver, we loaded them into the carriage. We drove to the docks, and Mr. Waterhouse and stopped at one of the piers, which one I don’t know. He told me to wait in the coach and watch the two rogues, and went on board one of the ships. About five minutes later, he returned with six sailors. They dragged the two bundle lords out of the carriage and onto the ship.” Marcus stated.
“Good heavens,” Arabella replied. “Mrs. Waterhouse stated that her husband would see to the matter; he wasn’t jesting.”
“Aye, Mr. Waterhouse asked me to continue waiting in the carriage for my own protection, so that if there were any repercussions from the lords disappearing I could rightly say I didn’t know anything. Let me say the docks at midnight are not a good place.” Marcus shook his head. “About fifteen minutes later, Mr. Waterhouse stepped back into the carriage and we left without the two rakes. Mr. Waterhouse told me that the ship was due to sail for China. That the captain of the ship was not only his friend but Godfather to Clara, a family man and a Quaker. The captain was going to take the two lords with him and would not be back in London for at least a year.”
“That is one way to deal with rogues and reprobates,” Tristan commented.
“But won’t their family wonder where they went?” Arabella asked.
“Mr. Waterhouse thought of that; he had a stack of letters in his hand. Mr. Waterhouse said he and the captain had convinced the gentlemen in question to write letters to their friends and family that they were going away to try and improve their fortunes.” Marcus replied. “Mr. Waterhouse also had them write letters to their creditors that he will have Victor print in the newspaper they own. By tomorrow, all of London will think that the two gentlemen voluntarily left England.”
“My word, what a clever plan, headquarters could use Mr. Waterhouse next time they planned an assault,” Tristan remarked.
“Indeed, on the ride back, he thanked me for my help, said I was a good man and a good friend, and not to tell anyone but you about what happened.” Marcus shrugged. “Those two should be safely on their way to China now, and Clara and her reputation safe.”
“Much better than my idea of simply tossing them both in the Thames,” Tristan remarked.
“Well, I for one am glad that Clara is safe and that no one was killed,” Arabella stated, rising to brush out her light blue day gown. “I will leave you two to work.”
“I don’t know how much work we shall achieve before we are inundated with visitors. Do you think you and Penelope can handle most of them?” Tristan asked. He needed to review the dispatches from the War Department that had arrived, update the accounts to show the latest payments made on the back debts, and work on the drawings he had promised Victor.
“I think Penelope and I can manage. I will see you both at lunch,” Arabella turned and was reaching for the doorknob when there was a loud knock from the front door. Arabella turned to frown at Marcus and Tristan.
“Lord, who could that be? It isn’t even nine yet,” Tristan groaned, looking over at the mantel clock.
There was the sound of footsteps, and a moment later they could hear the front door opening, and a few heartbeats later the door closing. Arabella opened the office door and discovered Buttons standing there, his hand upraised in the act of knocking.
“Excuse me, my lord, my lady, but Mister Victor Waterhouse is wondering if you are free? He says he knows it is early, but wishes to speak to you,” Buttons stated with what appeared to be a hint of annoyance.
“Maybe he is here about Clara. Please have him come in,” Arabella stated, stepping back into Tristan’s office as Tristan and Marcus nodded in agreement.
“Yes, Buttons, please have him come in,” Tristan added and saw Buttons nod.
Buttons turned to walk back to the front door and opened it wide. Victor stepped in, nodded to Buttons in thanks as Buttons closed the front door behind him.
“This way, sir,” Buttons motioned for Victor to follow him to the office. When they reached the door, Buttons stepped aside, and let Victor step into the office.
“Thank you Buttons. Please put the knocker up at ten, lady Penelope and I will be receiving then.” Arabella directed.
“Of course, my lady. My lord, are you home to any callers this morning?” Buttons asked from the open door.
“Only if it is related to business, Buttons, and thank you,” Tristan replied, then with a nod, Buttons shut the office door.
“Victor, please have a seat and tell me how we can help you,” Tristan said, motioning to one of the empty chairs before the desk.
“No, no that won’t be necessary. I won’t be staying long, and thank you for seeing me so early. First, I wished to return your jacket, Marcus. Clara told me you lent it to her for the ride home.” Victor extended a jacket to Marcus; “My valet brushed it out and pressed it for you.”
“Thank you. How is Miss Clara this morning?” Marcus asked, taking the jacket from Victor to flop it over the back of one of the chairs before the desk.
“Oh yes, how is she? I have been so worried since last night.” Arabella asked; she was burning to know how her friend was doing.
“Well, for the most part. She is a bit bruised, and her ankle is swollen and tender, and she can’t put much weight on it. A physician examined it last night and agreed with your assessment that it is only badly sprained. Clara wanted me to thank you all again for coming to her aid last night. She hopes you will all come for a visit tomorrow morning.” Victor stated, giving the others all a thin-lipped smile.
“Oh, yes, of course, I would be delighted to visit her. I should have some more sketches finished for you by then, too,” Arabella replied.
“Capital, Clara, and mother will be delighted at the visit. Father has forbidden Clara to leave the house for the next few days and the physician has said that she is not allowed to put weight on it for at least a day.” Victor gave Arabella a warm smile. “Clara hates being confined to her bed and the house, even if she understands why.”
“I completely understand. I, too, hated being laid up after I was wounded. Please tell Miss Clara that I look forward to seeing her and hope she gets well soon,” Marcus added.
“Very good, Father also wanted to extend his thanks to you all for your help and discretion in the matter. He wants to invite you all to dinner in two days’ time,” Victor stated, absentmindedly tapping his elegant top hat against his thigh as if keeping time.
“Tell him we would be delighted to,” Tristan replied, earning nods of agreement from Arabella and Marcus.
“And how is your father? He seemed rather put out; shall we say, when he brought me home last night?” Earning a chagrined look from Victor, who paused in the tapping of his hat and raked his finger through his elegantly styled hair.
“Yes, that is to put it mildly. Edgar and I earned an earful from Father this morning for leaving the ball early, as is our habit. We usually arrive with mother and Clara say a few hellos and then leave to avoid match-making mothers and desperate misses.” Victor sighed dejectedly. “Clara came to our defense most vigorously but father would have none of it.”
Arabella frowned; she liked both Victor and Edgar and thought it was unfair that they were being blamed for something that wasn’t their fault. “But Clara was grabbed leaving the ladies’ retiring room. You can’t be with her constantly.” Arabella stated.
“That is what Clara said, but Father is correct; we should have stayed at the ball. Now I had best be off, I have to see my editor before we go to press this morning. And before I forget father said he will be reaching out to his business contacts about whether any of them knew your father or did business with him. Father said he will send a message around as soon as he knows anything.” Victor stated.
“Thank you, Victor, and thank your father for me, tell him I am grateful for his assistance,” Tristan replied. He was again grateful for the older man’s assistance; he wasn’t foolish enough to let pride get in the way of solving the mystery he was living in.
“I shall. Come at six, that way we can talk before supper. Mother and father prefer country hours, so we eat at seven,” Victor stated, “Well, I’d better go, have a good day all, and I will let mother and Clara know you plan to visit tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Marcus said and motioned to the door.
“Oh yes, thank you. And I would also like to thank you all for helping Clara. She drives me mad some days with her stubbornness, but she is my little sister.” With a nod, Victor turned and walked to the office door, followed by Marcus.
“I had best go to,” Arabella gave Tristan a smile and headed for the door, though she would have preferred to stay. Tristan looked far too handsome this morning, with his long dark hair lightly tousled and his cravat loose enough to show a hint of his neck. He also filled out his jacket to perfection, reminding her of the hard muscles beneath his jacket. Something in her expression must have given away her wayward thoughts because Tristan smiled in return.
“How about an early night to night, Bella, and we can try out a new page?” Tristan said softly, earning a furious blush from Arabella.
“Oh yes,” Arabella ducked her head and then hurried from the office. In the foyer, she saw Marcus saying goodbye to Victor just as an older gentleman stepped up to the door. Arabella resisted the urge to eavesdrop and hurried for the stairs. She really did need to work on her sketches.
* * * *
Tristan forced down his wayward thoughts and the urge to run after Arabella and drag her to their bedchamber. He needed to get work done, and it couldn’t be put off much longer. He opened the ledger book and was just starting to enter the new numbers when he heard Marcus clear his throat loudly. Tristan looked up from the ledger to see Marcus in the office door.
“Tris, we have a visitor, a Mr. Morgan. He said he was your father’s solicitor and needs to speak to you about a matter of some urgency,” Marcus stated before stepping into the office, followed by a middle-aged man with graying hair, brown eyes, a hooked nose, and a suit of gray superfine.
Tristan rose and leaned over the desk as Marcus handed him a calling card. “Mr. Morgan, if you are indeed my father’s solicitor, you are an answer to a prayer. Please sit, I have questions for you, and I’m sure you must have questions for me.” Tristan examined the card in his hands. The paper of the cream colored calling card was thick and spoke of quality; even the ink used spoke of expense and quality. Mr. Morgan was obviously a very successful solicitor and the fact he had come to see Tristan, instead of asking Tristan to come to his office, spoke volumes.
“Indeed, my lord, let me first explain what brought me here. I was sent a message last night by Sir Augustus. He sent me an urgent message last night saying that he had met Lord Tristan Sizemore, the late earl Sizemore’s son, and that he’d been told someone was impersonating him. Sir Augustus told me that I needed to come and speak to you with all due hast as you had questions about your late father’s holdings.” Mr. Morgan paused as he took a seat before Tristan’s desk.
“Can I offer you refreshments, Sir?” Tristan asked, and Mr. Morgan shook his head.
“No, thank you, sir. Is it safe to speak?” Mr. Morgan looked questioningly over at Marcus.
“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say before my friend and associate, Mr. Berkley. He was my aide in the army, and he is my associate and knows all my business.” Tristan replied as Marcus took the other empty chair before Tristan’s desk.
Mr. Morgan eased back in the chair, setting a large brown leather attaché on his lap. “Yes, of course, my lord, as I was saying, Mr. Augustus contacted me last night. He wrote that he believed a serious crime was taking place, that there was an imposter running about London pretending to be Lord Tristan Sizemore and tarnishing his name.” Mr. Morgan undid the buckle on his attaché. “He further instructed me that you know nothing about either your father or brother’s accounts, holding or dealings with me, and that I must come and brief you at once.”
“That is amazingly helpful of Mr. Augustus. We met him last night at an event.” Tristan replied. “How would you like to begin?”
“If you will forgive me, while I believe that you are indeed the true lord Tristan Sizemore, as this is the Sizemore home, do you have proof of your identity? I do not wish to be rude, but a man claiming to be Lord Tristan Sizemore came to my office twice seeking not only information about Lord Sizemore’s accounts but the shares I hold in trust for the Sizemore family as well as the title ship papers on Hastings’ House and the house in Bath.”
“No, no, I completely understand your caution and thank you for it. I have been having to prove my identity for weeks,” Tristan reached into his inner jacket pocket to withdraw his War Department identification as well as his army pay card with his name and rank on it. Leaning over the desk, he held them out to Mr. Morgan, who looked at them for a moment before returning them to Tristan with a nod of satisfaction.
“My apologies, my Lord, but after the note I received from Sir Augustus and having previously met this imposter myself, I wished to be cautious,” Mr. Morgan stated.
“No need to apologize, we appreciate your caution,” Marcus stated.
“Indeed, perhaps it would be best if you start at the beginning. You said you are the solicitor for both my late father and Sir Augusts? In what capacity did you serve him? I know nothing about any of his holdings or my family holdings.” Tristan pulled out a stack of paper from his desk and set it before him. He jotted down the date and Mr. Morgan’s name.
“I handled some of your father’s investments, mainly a tin mine in Cornwall, a plush mill in Wales, as well as a wool mill in Scotland. I worked for your father for over sixteen years, and in that time, we became well acquainted, not exactly friends, but he would often talk about his sons. Including his youngest son, who was in the army, and whom he was very proud of.” Mr. Morgan stated.
Tristan sat back frowning, Sir Augustus had said the like, but again he found it hard to believe.
“I find that hard to believe, sir, as he never wrote to me once, but please continue,” Tristan stated.
“He did mention that as well, but I digress. I have with me a list of the holdings I managed for your father and your family.” Mr. Morgan slid a piece of paper across Tristan’s desk to him, and Tristan picked it up to read what was written and saw that it contained a list of five investments and the relative value of each. “Last year, your father began to look how shall I say it, he did not look well. He had always been a very healthy man and full of life and vigor, I thought it odd that he looked so sickly. When I asked him, he replied that he had suffered some form of attack while at a new gaming hall but was being treated by a new physician.”
“That was what I learned as well. Please continue,” Tristan prompted, leaning forward on his desk in interest. Any new information that he learned about his father was welcome, not only to help solve the mystery he was living in but to learn about the man he’d never known.
“A week later, he came to my office and was most distressed. He told me that both his valet and his man of business, Mr. Vickers, had disappeared and were presumed dead. He looked rather grey, but I thought it was because of his distress over the matter. A week after latter, I called here and met a Mr. Keene, who your father said, was helping him with his accounts.” Mr. Morgan paused to be sure that Tristan was listening.
“Yes, we encountered Mr. Keene when I returned home a few months ago. He was very unpleasant, and we locked him in his chambers before he escaped.” Tristan added.
“Good heavens, perhaps if your father had done the same things, it would have gone better. A short time later, he learned that he had died; when I was told that he had died in the presence of a woman, I doubted it highly. While your father and mother’s marriage was acrimonious, at times he never kept a mistress in the time I knew him, nor did he act in such a fashion.” Mr. Morgan shook his head.
“Interesting, I discovered that my father did business with the firm of Ball and Canon. But when I stopped in to inquire about what they did for my father, they said that they had been broken into and the file pertaining to my family’s accounts had been stolen,” Tristan stated, and Marcus nodded in agreement. “Would you know perhaps what they did for my father or my family?”
Mr. Morgan frowned, tapping his fingers on his attaché. “Ball and Canon, yes, I heard him mention them. I believe they handled investments related to shares he owned in a shipping company, perhaps two. Your father did not trust easily and had four different solicitors, including myself, which I am aware of.”
“Four solicitors, do you know who they might be by any chance?” Marcus asked.
“No, as I said, your father did not trust any single solicitor or man of business with all his business and finances. He kept such matters private, but I can make inquiries for you.” Mr. Morgan replied.
“That would be very helpful, sir. Now I have another question, and I’m hoping you know the answer. I was told that my father began to lose money, lots of money, because he drank and gambled. That he sold off almost all the furniture from our ancestral home, Rawlings, and he also sold off almost all the land. Do you know anything about that?” Tristan was eager to know the answer to one of the questions that had been haunting him for weeks.
“I heard that rumor too and did not believe it. Your father told me that he was indeed planning to sell off the old furniture and then buy new, as he was planning to move back to Rawlings with your mother. He told me that he had been ignoring the estate for too long and that he wanted your brothers to take more interest in the investments and give up their wild ways He also wanted to make amends with your mother for not being the best of husbands.” Mr. Morgan looked very angry. “I do not believe that he sold off the lands when he told me that he wished to bring the estate back to its former glory. If the land was sold it was not done by your father.”
“That is indeed most odd. Now you said you met my brothers.” Tristan asked and saw Mr. Morgan nod.
“Yes, sir, on several occasions, as well as your eldest sister Rebecca, here in this house in this very room, in fact. Your father had me prepare her marriage contract.” Mr. Morgan replied looking about the office.
“Please continue. What else can you tell me about my brothers I am eager to learn about them?” Tristan asked.
“I met both your brothers several times over the years. Once a year, your father would have me brief him and your brothers on how the accounts were doing. After your father died, I spoke to your brother, Allister, perhaps twice, and after that, Mr. Keene would come to my office claiming he was acting on behalf of your brother as your brother was too busy to see to business. He even brought a letter that he claimed to have been written by your brother, stating that Mr. Keene was to handle the accounts from now on. After that, I didn’t speak to your brother’s again until your brother Allister’s funeral, where I spoke to your brother Richard for the first time in months.” Mr. Morgan shook his head as if to express either annoyance or disbelief. “It was very odd he did not look well, his skin was very sallow, and he began to ask me questions about the accounts when Mr. Keene interrupted and insisted that your brother needed to leave as he was ill.”
Tristan exchanged a look with Marcus as he pondered what he’d been told. Jules had suggested that his family had been poisoned, and Arabella had suggested that Miriam was controlling his mother with her special tonic. Was it true, had either Mr. Keene or Miriam poisoned his family? And if so, why? What had his family done to warrant such hatred?
Marcus cleared his throat loudly, drawing Mr. Morgan’s attention. “If I might ask a question? You said that you met the imposter and a fake Lady Rebecca. Can you tell us when and what they looked like?” Marcus asked, turning in his chair to more fully see Mr. Morgan as he questioned him.
“As for the exact date, I would have to check my files, but it was only a few days after the death of Lord Richard. It was another reason I knew that the man had to be an imposter; I’d been told by Lord Richard at his brother’s funeral that Sir Tristan was still in the army somewhere on the continent. I’m not a foolish man; there would have been no way for the real Sir Tristan to have received a message that his brother had passed and returned to England. And for someone who presumably had been stationed in India for a decade, he was too pale.” Mr. Morgan frowned as he shook his head. “You, sir, and Lord Tristan are both rather dark, speaking of the fact you were both overseas. No, this fellow was tall, and pale with dark hair and a rather large nose and dark eyes.”
“The description sounds like Dr. Fletcher. What did the woman look like, sir, if you can remember?” Tristan asked.
“Yes, indeed, she was thin, tall for a woman with dark hair and eyes, a long nose, and an expression that looked like she ate something sour.” Mr. Morgan replied.
“It sounds like Miriam; do you have a copy of the sketch we gave to Jules?” Marcus asked, looking over at Tristan.
“Yes, Jules sent me one. If you will bear with me a moment, sir, I have a picture of a woman, I’d like you to look at and tell me if this is the woman.” Tristan pulled the key to the top drawer of the desk from his vest and used it to unlock the drawer. He rooted through the papers in it, digging through a stack of blank paper, hidden underneath was a copy of a sketch of Miriam. Tristan pulled it out and, leading across the desk, held it out to Mr. Morgan.
“Oh, yes, that is the woman.” Mr. Morgan nodded after studying the image for only a minute.
“Thank you, sir,” Tristan put the picture back in his desk and once again hid it, before shutting the drawer and then again locking it.
“Please continue, you were saying that you did not believe this man was me. What else made you suspect that he was an imposter?” Tristan inquired.
“He did not look like a Sizemore, nor did the woman. Your brothers and you all have the same color eyes as your late father and the same nose. My mother was a rather excellent portrait artist and would tell me how important it was to pay attention to faces, and so I have. You and your brothers all looked like your father; neither of these people did. In addition, I met your sister, Lady Rebecca, and this woman did not look like her.” Mr. Morgan studied Tristan closely for several minutes, then nodded in satisfaction. “I asked this person several times about his time in the army but he could not answer any of my questions; he kept trying to put me off. I myself served in the army for five years. In addition, your father had often spoken of your career, yet this man could not answer any of my questions. He became angry and insistent that I turn over the documents to him at once. I managed to put him off by saying that the documents were not in my office but in the safe of the Royal Bank, and I needed time to fetch them. A few days later, Mr. Keene came to my office with a letter claiming it was from Lord Tristan, that demanded I turn the documents over to him at once. I again managed to put him off though; he became almost violent about it.”
“Thank you for your diligence, sir, and I am very glad you did. Would you be able to provide me with information about these investments?” Tristan asked, exchanging looks with Marcus.
“Very easily, sir, I brought all the particulars with me, as well as three bank drafts from your holdings.” Mr. Morgan pulled a stack of papers from inside his leather attaché and, leaning forward, handed them to Tristan. He then handed three bank drafts to Tristan.
“You will receive another set of dividends in three months, after that, as the investments are paid quarterly.” Mr. Morgan stated. “I have already taken out my fees, sir.”
Tristan looked at the bank drafts in his hand and felt his heart skip a beat. The first bank was for nearly ten thousand pounds, the second from the mill was for a bit over three thousand pounds and the last was for two thousand piunds. Tristan swallowed hard in disbelief at what he saw. Fifteen thousand pounds would clear al the remaining debts and leave him several thousand pounds to begin buying back the land that once belonged to Rawlings.
“Mr. Morgan, you have proved yourself to be not only shrewd but also loyal to the Sizemore family. Would you consider continuing to work for me as my primary solicitor? And to not only continue overseeing these accounts but in time others?” Tristan asked, hoping the astute solicitor agreed, as he seemed not only capable but decidedly loyal.
Mr. Morgan smiled broadly, then nodded. “Why, yes sir, I would be honored too. I will work up a new agreement and have my clerk, Mr. Watson, bring it by tomorrow. I shall also personally call on the offices of other solicitors I know that serve the ton.” Mr. Morgan pulled a notebook from out of his case and jotted down notes.
“Thank you, that would be not only appreciated but helpful. Would you be able to make inquiries for me about the sale of the land belonging to Rawlings and help me begin to buy it back? I would like to make the estate profitable again. I am married now and God willing if I have an heir, I would like to leave it to him.” Tristan asked.
“I would be happy to, sir; it would be my pleasure to assist you and bring about your late father’s wishes. I shall begin making inquiries this afternoon. In addition, a new law was recently passed stating that if property was sold by an imposter, the original or true owner can reclaim it by proving that an imposter sold it. Perhaps if we can prove that your father did not sell the land, you can reclaim it in court, in matters such as this sir the law is on your side.” Mr. Morgan stated leaning forward in his chair.
“That is excellent news,” Marcus stated.
“Indeed, you don’t know how relieved you have made me. Your visit has been most illuminating. May I ask one last question without appearing rude, but why didn’t you come to visit me sooner?” Tristan asked.
“I was not in London till a few days ago and did not know of your return till I received the note from Sir Augustus. After my last visit from the imposter, I was approached by several ruffians, and they attempted to rough me up. I was able to fight them off, but I suffered several bruises and a sizeable lump to the head. My wife insisted I take some time off to regain my health, and I was away in Bath taking the waters.” Mr. Morgan frowned. “In addition someone that same night broke into my office and ransacked my office. I however keep most of my files in locked metal cabinets. The would be thieves found nothing of importance but caused enough damage that my clerks had to spend several days putting things to rights.”
“Thank you, one last thing, Mr. Morgan, would you be willing to tell everything you have told me and Mr. Berkley to the law. We are working with Mr. Jules Burns, an inspector at Scotland Yard, on what has been happening to my family. He believes that my father and brothers might have been murdered.” Tristan asked and saw Mr. Morgan’s eyes widen, then he nodded his head.
“Of course, My Lord, I would be happy to,” Mr. Morgan replied.
“Wonderful, I was hoping you would say that.” Tristan pulled one of Jules’ calling cards off his desk and, leaning forward, handed it to Mr. Morgan.
“Well, if there is nothing else, I had best be going then,” Mr. Morgan rose and extended his hand to first Tristan and then Marcus, giving them each a hearty shake.
“I will walk you out, sir,” Marcus said, rising and motioning to the door.
“Yes, yes of course. I will send my clerk round tomorrow with the new contract as well as any information I might find.” Mr. Morgan gave Tristan a nod, then followed Marcus to the door.
Tristan watched them go, when the door shut behind Mr. Morgan he lifted the bank drafts to study them in lingering disbelief. If this was just a fraction of the amount of the investments his father held, then there was ample reason for someone to murder his family.
* * * *
Arabella paused as she climbed the stairs to watch as Marcus admitted an elegantly dressed gentleman in his fifties. She burned to know who the man was and what he wanted, but she knew Tristan would tell her later. With a shake of her head, she climbed the steps and walked slowly down the corridor. As she rounded the corner, she froze mid-step as she saw Miriam trying to open the door to the room containing the entrance to the secret passage. Arabella frowned, wondering what the irritating woman would want in there; the door was at least locked. As she watched, Miriam tried the handle again then when the door didn’t open, she reached into a secret pocket in the fold of her gown and pulled out a key. Using the key, she opened the door and slipped inside.
Frowning, Arabella tiptoed down the corridor and peered into the room, curious to see what Miriam was about. Miriam approached the wall that hid the secret passageway entrance and was reaching for the light scone that opened it when Arabella stepped into the room, determined to stop her.
“Ah, Miriam, you are in here. I thought perhaps it was one of the maids. You know that for the time being this door is to be kept locked; it is odd that it was open.” Arabella said, forcing a smile while all the while she wanted to demand Miriam give her the key she’d used.
Miriam spun her eyes wide with surprise, then she schooled her features into a tony mask while she looked at Arabella like she was a beggar from the gutter.
“I thought I heard a noise in here. I was making sure that those two dreadful boys were not in here causing mischief.” Miriam wheezed.
“If you mean the young gentlemen and my new nephews. by marriage then I take exception to your words. They are both delightful young men, and Sebastian shall inherit his father’s title and estate one day.” Arabella retorted and saw Miriam bristle in obvious annoyance. “And I believe, Lady Penelope said she was going to take the young lords and her mother for a walk in the park; the dowager is probably looking for you.”
“I do not report to the likes of you; you are nothing but a country girl that he married. He shouldn’t even be the earl.” Miriam hissed.
“I do not think being a country girl is an insult; in the country, we are taught kindness and manners, both of which you seem to lack. And while you may not answer to me, you forget my husband is the earl, and he has the power to send both you and the dowager away. Now, please leave this room. We are keeping it closed for now.” Arabella insisted. Miriam’s eyes narrowed in anger, but she stormed from the room, slamming the door after her. Arabella frowned, what had happened to make Miriam go from mild-mannered and almost invisible to insolent? Well, she would worry about that latter; for now, she needed to make sure that Miriam did not manage to enter the secret passage.
As she didn’t have a key, there was no way to lock the door from the inside, and even if she did, Miriam had a key. Arabella looked about the sparsely furnished room, looking for some way to bar the door. Tristan and Marcus had sold most of the furnishings, but there was a high-backed wooden chair near the door. Arabella stepped up to the chair, which was surprisingly heavy, and carried it over to the door and managed to wedge the back of it under the doorknob. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would have to do for now.
Satisfied that Miriam wouldn’t gain access easily, she turned and walked to the wall. After a moment’s pause to remember what Marcus had shown her, she opened the passageway, stepping back as it slid open.
Arabella stepped into the secret passageway and shut it behind her, plunging the landing she was on into complete darkness. Arabella momentarily considered reopening the passageway to let in the light, but changed her mind. She didn’t want one of the maids or Miriam to discover it if they somehow gained access to the room. With her right hand on the wall and her left hand holding up her skirt so she would not trip, she made her way cautiously down the pitch-black steps. It was a very good thing she was not afraid of the dark, she mused as she slowly made her way down. When she finally reached the bottom of the steps, she nearly blundered into the closed passageway wall.
Arabella couldn’t remember how to open the passageway from inside the passage, and in the complete darkness, she couldn’t examine the wall for clues. She lifted her hand to knock when she could just make out voices, one being Tristan’s deep tenor and the other a voice she didn’t recognize. She pressed her ear to the wall to listen, barely making out what was said.
* * * *
Marcus stepped back into the office, shutting the door behind him. He gave Tristan a smile and a nod before dropping into the chair Mr. Morgan had recently vacated.
“That was rather illuminating and immensely helpful,” Marcus stated.
“It was, look at these.” Tristan came around the desk and held the bank drafts out to Marcus, who took them with a low whistle when he saw the amounts, then handed them back to Tristan.
“What are you planning to do with your new wealth?” Marcus asked.
Tristan was about to reply when he heard a knock coming from the wall. “Either we have very large mice,” Tristan began.
“Or someone is trapped inside.” Marcus finished for him, then crossing to the wall, he opened the passageway to reveal Arabella.
“Bella, what are you doing in there?” Tristan asked, stepping up to her and offering her his hand to help her out.
“I went upstairs and was heading to my office when I saw Miriam trying to get into the room above. After a moment, she pulled a key out of her pocket and used it to open the door. I watched her form the open door and saw that she intended to open the passage way, and I intervened. We had words, and I sent her packing. As I didn’t have a key, I blocked the door with a chair and then came down the passageway.” Arabella stated.
“That was wise of you, though you walking down steps in the dark makes my heart skip a beat,” Tristan remarked, brushing cobwebs off of Arabella’s hair.
“Oh, thank you, I hate cobwebs,” Arabella replied, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
“Good thinking about the chair. We now know that Miriam has a key and knows about the passageway, the question is how? How did she get a key, and who told her about it? Also, how long has she been using it to spy on people?” Marcus crossed his arms before him as his face screwed up in thought.
“More answers we will have to find. Now, Arabella, did you hear any of what was said by the solicitor?” Tristan asked.
“Some of it, the voices were muffled. But I heard enough to know the gentleman was a solicitor for your father and brother and that he met the imposter.” Arabella replied.
“He did, he said that he suspected the man was an imposter because he had known my father and brothers, and they all looked alike and that the man in his office claiming to be me looked nothing like my father. He also brought me these. Tristan pulled out the bank drafts and held them out to Arabella. She looked at the amounts and gasped. After a moment, she returned them to Tristan.
“Oh, Tristan, that is wonderful, and it is so much money.” Arabella shook her head. She’d never seen such a large bank draft. In her old life, that amount of money could have kept Elizabeth, the children, and her in food and supplies for a good six years.
“Well, with these, we shall be able to pay off all the remaining outstanding debts and have funds left over. Some of it shall go to repairing and rebuilding Rawlings, but I was thinking some of it could be set aside to redecorate. Would you like to redecorate a room or two? Our bedchamber, perhaps, or maybe our sitting room upstairs?” Tristan asked, searching Arabella’s face for a reaction. She saw her smile in delight.
“Truly, I could redecorate some of the chambers?” Arabella asked. She had been content with the furnishings as they were finer than what she had at the cottage. She had also not minded that some of the rooms were sparsely furnished, as Tristan and Marcus had been forced to sell a good portion of the furnishings to pay down the debts. To be allowed to pick the furnishings for her new home, to put her own stamp on it would be wonderful.
“Indeed, in a few days I shall take you shopping for furniture, rugs, or whatever you wish.” Tristan saw Arabella smile in delight and was pleased he could make her happy. “It is your house now, your home now. In a year or two with more dividend checks like these we should be able to redo the entire house. But for now it shall have to be a room or two.”
“Truly, there will be more bank drafts such as these?” Arabella asked in disbelief, and saw Tristan smile broadly and nod.
“Indeed, according to Mr. Morgan, our new solicitor, we shall receive dividends such as this quarterly. You might have heard, but I asked him to be our new solicitor and to look into reclaiming the land that once belonged to Rawlings.” Tristan caught both of Arabella’s small hands with his and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“That is wonderful, and I think it is a good idea,” Arabella replied. She knew how unhappy Tristan was about the loss of the family’s lands.
“We shall have to stop at the bank on the way to the gardens if you don’t mind. I don’t wish to leave these about,” Tristan carefully folded the bank drafts up and placed them carefully in his inner jacket pocket.
“What are we going to do with Miriam?” Marcus asked, shaking his head angrily. “She is dangerous; we need to send her away.”
“I agree, and I have been thinking about her and about what we discussed with Jules. Miriam is simply a soldier carrying out someone else’s orders. We need to continue as we have been feigning ignorance, but being vigilant and cautious. We need to find a way to bring whoever is directing her to make themselves known.” Tristan stated.
Marcus scowled. “Very well, but I don’t like it, Captain, not one little bit. Usually, when we go into battle, we have more intelligence.”
Tristan shrugged. “But you forget we were the ones that gathered the intelligence, and we are not alone we have friends and allies. We shall prevail. Now I shall work on the accounts as if it is a normal morning, Bella go work on your drawings and Marcus if you would go and tell Jules what we learned. And then later today we shall have a pleasant outing.”
“If I might add we need to be extra cautious from now own that we are not heard and in what we eat and drink” Marcus added.
“Agreed we have a plan now and together we shall prevail,” Tristan stated and saw the others nod in agreement. He smiled knowing deep in his soul that they would prevail because they were right.