by Joyce Alec
“There is something else I must discuss with you,” Miss Newton said, a little hesitantly. “It has to do with my brother.”
“Henry?”
She shook her head. “My brother, Baron Hollard. I received a warning yesterday. I mean, I was told to pass on a warning to him.”
He frowned. “By whom?”
Miss Newton let out a small sigh. “By the gentleman with the beard that we do not know,” she stated, spreading her hands. “He was in the park yesterday afternoon and spoke to me there.”
Thomas stared at her, astonished. “You mean to say, the very same bearded gentleman who put the note into my pocket?”
“Yes,” Miss Newton replied, sitting back with yet another sigh.
Thomas was more than astonished. “What warning are you to give Baron Hollard then?”
Miss Newton closed her eyes, her cheeks dusted with pink. “I could not say. It was not particularly specific, but more that he to be on his guard.”
“On his guard against what, exactly?”
Miss Newton opened her eyes and glared at him, her lips pulled tautly. “I do not know, Lord Sharpe,” she said tightly. “Did I not just say so? The gentleman said that there was a danger than neither of us was aware of. He did not give me his name, nor did I find out anything more about him. I am afraid, Lord Sharpe, that I did not do particularly well at all in attempting to garner more information from him.” She looked a little frustrated with herself, spreading her hands. “I was not only struggling with my own surprise at seeing him again, but also found that I was plagued with some troubling thoughts of my own that made thinking clearly rather difficult.”
He saw the irritation in her expression and the glistening tears in her eyes and, despite his own inner warnings not to do so, he reached forward and took her hands in his.
Miss Newton jumped visibly, her eyes rounding, only for her to smile at him, looking a little abashed.
“I should not have spoken so sharply,” she said, dropping her gaze to their joined hands. “I apologize profusely, Lord Sharpe.”
“You need not distress yourself, Miss Newton,” Thomas murmured quietly. “You have done nothing wrong.” He smiled back at her, seeing her expression clear. “Now, tell me what it was that troubled you so prior to this gentleman’s arrival.” Reluctantly, he let go of her hands and sat back up in his seat, aware that his heart was pounding in his chest, his desire to take her in his arms suddenly a good deal more forceful.
Closing his mind off to all such thoughts, Thomas forced himself to listen carefully to Miss Newton as she spoke about what had occurred yesterday afternoon, growing all the more concerned that she was correct to think that Henry was involved in the theft. He did not care at all for the gentleman, finding him to be harsh and abrasive, cutting Miss Newton to the quick whenever he spoke. The man was filled with greed and anger, and given that he cared for no one but himself, it seemed quite right that he should begin to steal in order to add to his own fortune, instead of finding himself some sort of respectable employment.
“So you suspect one brother of being a thief and the other brother to be in some sort of danger?” he asked, when Miss Newton had finished speaking.
“And somehow this is all tied together with Francis’s guilt,” Miss Newton sadly added. “Although what good it will do to find the truth now, I cannot quite understand.”
Thomas let out a heavy sigh, aware that there was a good deal for them both to consider and even more to discover. “And on top of all this, you are to continue to allow Lord Borden to pay you court.”
To his surprise, a ripple of disgust ran across her expression. A flare burst in his heart, reminding him that he had every opportunity to take the place of Lord Borden if he so wished it. However, it was this very thing that had him immediately confused. Did he wish to marry Miss Newton? Or was it simply that his promise to Francis was making him consider all manner of things so that Miss Newton might have a contented and settled future?
“I do not care for Lord Borden, as you might have presumed, Lord Sharpe,” Miss Newton stated, turning her head away to look out of the carriage window. “He is dull, boring, and quite disinterested in me.”
He cleared his throat, recalling the conversation that he had shared with Lord Borden only a few days ago. Should he say something to her?
“But, of course, since I have no other gentlemen chasing after me, I shall have to resign myself to him, I think,” Miss Newton continued, sadly. “I can see no other way, Lord Sharpe. Can you?”
His mouth went dry as her emerald eyes flicked back towards him, a question in their depths. He could not find the answer she was waiting for, torn between two different responses.
And then, thankfully, the carriage came to a stop, relieving him of his duty to answer.
“Shall we go in?” he asked, as the footmen prepared the carriage steps. “I know you will be most eager to hear what each of these men say.”
Miss Newton’s eyes held a hint of disappointment, but she nodded and accepted his hand as she descended. Within a few minutes, they found themselves within the Marquess of Thurston’s drawing room, being greeted by their host.
“I am so very glad to see you, Miss Newton,” Lord Thurston said, grasping Miss Newton’s hands and pressing them tightly. “Although I must say, I am surprised that Lord Sharpe is allowing you to be present when such interviews are being conducted.”
Miss Newton laughed, seeing the twinkle in Lord Thurston’s eyes. “You know, I think, that I would not have permitted him to refuse me attendance.” Her eyes softened as the older gentleman let go of her hands. “You are very kind, my lord. Kinder than even my own family. I do not know why you have such generosity towards me, but I cannot help but be filled with gratitude for it.”
Thomas watched with interest as the marquess tipped his head just a little, regarding Miss Newton carefully with his shrewd eyes.
“Miss Newton,” he said, gesturing for her to sit down. “I was present at your brother’s trial, and I confess that I did not think any of the supposed evidence to be particularly compelling.” His lined face became somewhat grim. “It is not usual for me to meddle in such things, particularly when I do not even know the accused, but I find myself unable to stop myself from wishing to be of aid. When your brother made his plea to Lord Sharpe that he would do all he could for you, I had to ensure that such a thing occurred.” A sidelong glance was sent in Thomas’s direction, making him a little uncomfortable. What was the marquess to say about him?
“I did not know Lord Sharpe at the time,” the marquess continued, directing his gaze back towards Miss Newton. “I could not be certain of his character, nor could I be sure that he would do as your brother had requested. I wanted to ensure you were not forgotten, Miss Newton, and so I involved myself with Lord Sharpe. I am glad to say that he has proven himself, and also that my wife has truly enjoyed your company as your sponsor.”
Thomas let out a small breath of relief, glad that the marquess had spoken kindly of him.
“And I will tell you one more thing,” the marquess finished, reaching across from where he sat to grasp Miss Newton’s hand. “I was not always the gentleman I am today. I once did something very foolish that had my name blackened across all of England.” His eyes dimmed, his regret was evident. “It was my own doing, but my sister took the blame also. Society turned their backs on her, and she was left without hope of ever marrying securely.”
Miss Newton swallowed hard whilst Thomas looked on in surprise.
“I have never been able to forgive myself, even though my sister herself has assured me often that it is quite unnecessary to feel such guilt.” He let go of Miss Newton’s hands. “I am glad to say that she did end up marrying in the end, although it was not to a gentleman of high title or fortune – but, nevertheless, she is happy still, and that, I suppose, is a little relief.”
Finally, Thomas understood why the marquess was so willing to help Miss Newton in her predicament,
for the gentleman had found Miss Newton’s situation to be an echo of what had occurred in his own past. He felt a little sorry for the marquess, that he was still struggling with his own guilt after what must have been decades since whatever he had done had caused such trouble, although he still felt more than grateful for the kindness he was showing towards Miss Newton.
“You are very kind,” Miss Newton said, her voice soft and filled with emotion. “Whatever wrongs you have done, I am sure they are more than wiped out.”
The marquess smiled kindly, shaking his head. “You are more than remarkable, Miss Newton. I do not know what Lord Sharpe is doing in pushing Lord Borden onto you.”
Thomas dropped his gaze at once, fire burning up his spine and into his neck. The marquess was clearly used to speaking his mind, but such a statement brought Thomas nothing more than embarrassment.
“You should listen to me, Lord Sharpe,” Lord Thurston continued, clearly ignoring Thomas’s mortification. “This young lady has such a gentle character, such a kind spirit and generous heart that you would be foolish to ignore her. Lord Borden indeed!” He snorted in derision, just as there came a rap on the door. “Come in.”
Thomas could not lift his head and look at either the door or at Miss Newton, such was his embarrassment. He knew that the marquess meant well, and he had to admit that what he had suggested was not at all ridiculous, but to have it spoken so plainly was more than a little embarrassing. Quietly, he wondered what Miss Newton thought, whether she was repelled by the idea, or if she would welcome his advances. He wanted to hope that it was the latter, given how she had reacted to his brief touches of her hands and the like, but he could not be certain. Nor could he still be sure of his own heart.
“The three men have been placed in my study,” the marquess informed them both, forcing Thomas to lift his head. “Shall we go? Miss Newton, I think it might be best if you listened from the doorway. Not to importune you, but I fear that if they become aware that you are the deceased man’s sister, then they might refuse to say a single word for fear of what you would do to them if their stories turn out to be false.”
Miss Newton rose to her feet, although Thomas noticed that her face was now a little paler than before. “What will you say to have them tell you the truth, Lord Thurston?” she asked, throwing a glance over her shoulder towards Thomas. “And will Lord Sharpe go with you?”
The marquess nodded, his expression rather kindly. “I will inform the gentlemen that Lord Sharpe believes that they were paid handsomely to lie about Mr. Newton some years ago. I will make it plain that I am seeking the same service from them.” He smiled as both Thomas and Miss Newton came towards the open door. “Being a marquess, I have more than enough wealth to make them very rich men, and they will be aware of that. The rest, I think, will follow quite smoothly.”
Miss Newton nodded and, to Thomas’s surprise, reached for his arm, which he gave willingly enough. “Very well, Lord Thurston. I will remain at the door.”
“Good. I thank you,” the marquess replied, throwing Thomas a knowing look that had his embarrassment begin to furl all over again. “Now, we shall get the truth from these men.”
Thomas had not liked leaving Miss Newton to sit on a small, wooden chair just outside the study door, but he had known it was for the best. As per the marquess’s instructions, he had lingered by the door, leaving it ajar and ensuring that none of the men within could make a quick escape. He could not tell how such a meeting was to go, although he prayed that the marquess would be able to pull the truth from their lips with ease.
As the marquess introduced himself to the three men, Thomas took them in carefully, feeling only the faintest hint of recognition. One man was tall and thin, the other short and even skinnier than the first. The third was a little rotund, holding his cap between his hands and twisting it nervously. They were not dressed in the finest of garments but nor were they particularly dirty nor ragged. Their expressions, however, were exactly alike. They were all afraid.
“Now,” the marquess continued, grandly. “Lord Sharpe here has informed me that he believes the three of you were given a sum of money to lie about a particular gentleman a year or so ago. The reason I am telling you this is because I wish for you to do the same again.”
Thomas hid a wry grin as two out of the three men’s mouths dropped open.
“I have a matter of importance that needs to be dealt with rather carefully,” the marquess continued, ignoring their surprise. “When I heard that you had lied to the court in order to assure your…patron…that he should have the verdict go the way he wished, then I knew that I could trust gentlemen such as you to do so again.”
“No, my lord,” said one of the men, shaking his head fervently. “That is not at all the case.”
The marquess’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, but it is,” he replied smoothly. “You may deny it as much as you wish, but I can assure you that your words are safe within this room. I have a good deal of wealth and influence, as you know, and therefore would be more than willing to aid you in whatever way each of you wishes. In return for doing me this particular favor, of course.”
Thomas held his breath, seeing two of the men share a glance. Apparently, they were not all going to vehemently deny their involvement in Francis’s guilt.
“Lord Sharpe?” The rotund man turned towards Thomas, his eyes a little narrowed as he took Thomas in. “You were the one to tell the marquess on us?”
Shrugging, Thomas folded his arms across his chest. “I only made assumptions.”
“And here I thought that fellow was your friend,” the man replied in a scathing voice. “And now, here you are, trying to get us to convict another innocent man of something they didn’t do.”
Thomas’s skin prickled as he heard Miss Newton’s gasp coming from just outside the door. He prayed the men had not heard it, fully aware of what the large man had just revealed to them all.
“Are you saying, then,” Lord Thurston said quickly, before any of the men could react. “Are you saying that the man you helped convict was not, in any way, responsible?”
The men all shuffled their feet nervously, but Thomas could see that they were aware that more than enough had already been revealed – albeit inadvertently.
“I don’t know if he was guilty of that murder,” the tall, thin man muttered. “But the truth is, I didn’t see him stealing from that fellow’s house.”
“And I didn’t see him go snatching them purses,” the second said. “Or breaking into Lord Finchley’s house.”
The third man remained stoically silent, his arms folded firmly across his chest. Thomas caught the marquess’s gaze, seeing the man frown heavily. There was more than enough evidence for him to question the men further, to find out the truth about who it was that had done such a thing, but without the third man’s compliance, they might very easily refuse to say more.
“I think then,” Thomas said grandly. “That you, sir, may leave.” He gestured for the larger man to make his way towards the door. “I do not think that you are the sort of willing gentleman we require for this.”
The marquess nodded his agreement, seeing what Thomas’s intention was immediately. “Indeed. You two may remain, of course. I have a sum waiting for you both that I do not think you will refuse.” He named a figure that had the two remaining men gasping aloud.
The third man hesitated, looking towards the door and then back towards the marquess. The air of expectancy grew thick, leaving Thomas almost breathless in his hope that the man would do as the other two had and reveal all.
“Well?” said Lord Sharpe.
Lord Thurston’s voice was sharp, cracking across the room. “Are you to tell me what I wish to know, or not?” he asked, planting his hands on his study desk and leaning over it, his eyes glaring at the third man. “If you are not to do so, then I would ask you to quit this room at once!”
The third man shuffled his feet, gave a sidelong glance to the other two men and then shrugge
d his shoulders. “I don’t got much to say, other than every word I said at that courthouse was put there by someone else.”
Thomas let out his breath in a rush.
“You mean to say that you were directed as to what you ought to tell the court?” he asked, as the marquess gave a small, grim smile of satisfaction. “Is that so?”
The third man nodded, still looking rather uncomfortable. “That’s about right, my lord.”
Thomas closed his eyes, feeling relief and regret swirling through him. Francis had not been guilty of those crimes, which meant, as far as he was concerned, that neither had Francis been guilty of the murder of Mr. Carmichael.
“Now, about this money,” the third man continued gruffly. “What is it you want us to do?”
The marquess grinned, just as Thomas opened his eyes.
“I fear that I cannot give you what I have promised,” the marquess said slowly. “Nor can I continue to discuss the difficult matter that I am supposedly enduring.” He stood back up, no longer leaning across the desk. “That was, I’m afraid, an untruth. I simply wished to know whether you had lied to the court.”
Thomas took a step towards the door, barring it from the three men as they turned towards one another in fright, their faces turning grey with fear.
“There is no need to attempt to run,” Lord Thurston said softly, his voice seeming to echo around the room despite the quietness with which he spoke. “I have nothing against the three of you, other than the fact that you helped an innocent man be found guilty of crimes he did not commit.” His voice had grown hard, his expression malevolent. “I should throw you all to the Bow Street Runners myself.”
One of the men staggered back, his legs apparently weakening with the shock of what had occurred.
“But, unfortunately, I cannot,” Lord Thurston continued, as the other two men held onto the third. “For reasons I cannot disclose, I shall not do as I wish. Instead, I shall give you your freedom, but only if you answer me one final question.”
