‘Who is this person?’ demanded Rutherford icily. ‘Why did you bring her in, Judith? I told the servants to deny me!’
‘She said she was Robert Lawrence’s sister!’ said Miss Judith innocently. ‘I thought the two of them should be reunited without loss of time.’
‘She is not my sister, grandfather,’ said the man to Rutherford before I could speak. ‘As I told you earlier, both my mother and sister perished of a fever in America. This wench was a servant in my family. She is the thief I told you about, who tried to steal the family’s papers from me. She must have had some idea of pretending to be Charlotte and worming her way into your family.’ The false Robert then got to his feet and pointed dramatically at me. ‘Worst of all, my lord: this despicable wench was the murderer of your son and my father, Andrew Lawrence!’
Lord Rutherford gasped and shrunk back in his chair. Lawrence looked startled and Miss Judith’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
‘No!’ I cried, appalled, looking around at them all. ‘It’s a lie! He was my father; you killed him! You tried to kill me too! You did this!’ I bared the bandaged cut on my arm. Lawrence took a hasty step towards me, but then stopped.
‘Father left the papers to me! We were everything to each other until you destroyed our lives. I don’t know who you are, but you are not Robert!’
‘I am Robert, but I’m certainly not your brother! You are a thief and an impostor.’
The murderer turned to Lord Rutherford. ‘Grandfather,’ he said again. ‘She is a low person who has a mind to better herself by unspeakable crimes. She is utterly ruthless! She has even been working for you here as some kind of servant to learn more about you, hasn’t she?’
‘Not to my knowledge!’ spluttered Lord Rutherford. ‘We don’t employ her sort here!’
‘She’s been masquerading as a boy, my lord.’
‘What?’ cried his lordship, outraged. He looked from one to the other of us, but I could see he was inclined to believe the suave soldier in the smart uniform, rather than the shabby intruder in a worn gown.
I began to see how clever the murderer’s story was. He had enough truth about him to make me look a liar. For all I knew, either Lawrence or Rutherford or both had plotted this with him. What was I to do?
I looked at Lawrence, realizing he must know me. As his eyes met mine, I saw he did. But he stood quite still, impassive, and even more impossible to read than usual.
‘Egad!’ Miss Judith exclaimed suddenly. ‘I do believe … yes, it is that stable boy who was working here! What was his name? Charlie! That was it. You are Charlie! What have you done with my horse, boy?’
‘That boy?’ cried Rutherford explosively. ‘Then you stand proven a thief, boy! The varmint stole a valuable horse from our stables! We must call for a constable!’ He rang the bell vigorously for the servants.
‘Wait!’ I cried. ‘Do what you like with me. I don’t care!’ I turned to the murderer and the magistrate. ‘Tell me! Where is Robert?’ I cried wildly. ‘What have you done with him?’
The murderer turned to Lord Rutherford. ‘It seems the poor creature is mad as well as dishonest,’ he said pityingly. He turned back to me and said slowly and clearly, as though to a witless idiot: ‘I am Robert Lawrence. You were our servant, Abigail.’
‘That’s a damned lie!’ said Henry, finding his voice at last, stepping forward to stand beside me. ‘I was a friend of Andrew Lawrence, Lord Rutherford’s eldest son, and I followed him to America! I watched his children Robert and Charlotte grow up. This is certainly Miss Charlotte,’ he put his hand on my shoulder, ‘and I don’t know where Robert is, or who you might be, but you are nothing like him, except a similarity of height and colouring.’
The man pretending to be Robert looked taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered himself. ‘So you’ve paid some other menial to lie for you,’ he sneered at me. ‘That proves nothing.’
‘What the devil is going on here?’ interrupted Lord Rutherford irascibly. ‘Johnson, you said you had found my grandson as I commissioned you to do. Have you or haven’t you?’
‘Of course I have,’ said the man who I had believed to be a magistrate in London. ‘It is all just as I told you,’ he said. ‘This is Robert Lawrence. You’ve seen the evidence! All his papers! And painful though it will be for you to hear it, my lord, I found this girl with the blood of your son upon her hands! With my own eyes, I saw her guilt! But she escaped me. I have been hunting tirelessly for her ever since, in the hope of bringing her to justice.’
‘So you say,’ said Lawrence calmly, stepping forward. ‘And yet the posters you distributed from here to London refer to a Charlotte Smith. Not Abigail.’
As he spoke, he pulled the dreadful poster from his coat and held it up for all to see. ‘Smith was the alias her father used. How do you explain that?’
‘I used the name she was calling herself!’ said the magistrate, thrown on the defensive. ‘The girl has been pursuing us, determined to lay her hands on money. Do not, I beg your lordship, be taken in by her or to be persuaded to buy her off. She should hang for theft!’
‘Was she following you before or after she took employment here?’ asked Lawrence, apparently bewildered. ‘For I would swear we worked her far too hard here to allow her any such freedom.’
‘Before!’ cried the magistrate. ‘Naturally it was before! I was hunting for your son, Lord Rutherford, but sadly, I reached him just too late!’
The truth crashed upon me at Lawrence’s words. Neither Lord Rutherford nor Lawrence had been scheming against us. It was this man. He’d been paid to trace the heir, but instead of bringing him to Deerhurst, he’d had him killed for his own ends. I looked at the murderer and the magistrate and realized that between them they planned to usurp my father’s and my brother’s place. I could see it all so clearly, but how was I to convince Lord Rutherford?
While I stood frozen, working it all out, Lord Rutherford signed to the butler and the footmen who had entered at the ringing of the bell. ‘Take these two intruders away,’ he ordered. ‘Lock them up and bring me the key! The constable shall have them! I don’t know what you were thinking of, bringing them in here, Judith!’
Miss Judith smiled. ‘Why, it’s been most entertaining, hasn’t it, Grandpapa?’ she asked. ‘And I still want to know where my horse is!’
The servants both came forward to grab me and take me away, but as they seized my arms, I cried out: ‘Don’t you see? He’s cheating you! That man murdered my father, not me!’
‘How dare you,’ spluttered Lord Rutherford. ‘Get out!’
‘I don’t care about the inheritance!’ I yelled as I was dragged away. ‘Have it, for all I care. Keep your stupid money! I just want my brother! What have you done with Robert?’
‘My lord, do you not remember me?’ asked Henry frantically as he too was dragged away. ‘I am Bridges’ brother, Henry! I served you faithfully in the stables for years here! When I left, I served your son! I followed him to America … Can you not summon Bridges to ask him the truth of this?’
I fought my captors, desperate to hear what Lord Rutherford would say to this. But though his expression was arrested for a moment, he waved the servants to take Henry away. He looked, I thought, grey, shrunken and defeated. Judith, standing beside him, looked gleeful and amused.
My last glance as I was forced from the room was for Lawrence. He was watching me, his face carefully blank. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he had spoken for me. I had a tiny shred of hope left that he might believe me.
Both Henry and I were shut in a small, airless box room that was mainly used as a storage room for brooms and the like. Neither of us resisted once we’d been dragged from the room, merely accompanying the servants quietly. When the lock clicked shut behind us, I looked at Henry miserably.
‘I’m so sorry, Henry,’ I said. ‘They got the better of us and it’s my fault. I thought Robert was here!’
‘You and me both, Miss Charlotte,’ ag
reed Henry sadly. ‘I fear we’re in a peck of trouble now.’
‘I’m more worried for Robert. Did he come here? Or was it that … that impostor who came through the gates this morning all along? And if he isn’t here, where can he be?’
Henry bit his lip, his face pale. ‘Charlie, I think we must prepare ourselves for the fact that they might already have done away with Robert.’
‘I won’t think that,’ I said firmly, though my voice shook. ‘Until we find him, there’s still hope.’
Time passed. I heard the stable clock striking seven in the distance. A short time after that, we heard footsteps and a key turned in the lock.
Both Henry and I braced ourselves, expecting the constable already. But it was Mr Lawrence who stepped into the room.
My heart beat faster at the sight of him. I was both glad to see him and terribly afraid. I couldn’t see what he had to gain by setting up an impostor, but I hadn’t forgotten that it was apparently his letter that had lured my brother here. We stood looking at each other uncertainly.
‘Charlie,’ Lawrence began after an awkward silence. ‘I’ve been working at this mystery from the other end. You’re telling the truth aren’t you? Will you explain it to me?’
‘Of course I am!’ I said. ‘And I will! I’m the daughter of Emily Saunders and Andrew Lawrence. You already knew that though, didn’t you? You spoke to my grandparents.’
‘Yes. Though they did not know who your father was. Why did you never tell me? All this time?’
‘I did not know! And if I had known, I still would not have known whether I could trust you. You had that poster in your bag! I thought you would turn me in!’
‘Oh, Charlotte! You saw that? When I took that down, I had no idea it was you! I was suspicious of Johnson, Lord Rutherford’s lawyer. I had some fears that he was untrustworthy so I did some checking. It appears my fears were well-founded.’
‘Oh. But is it true you wrote a letter to my brother? Why?’
‘Because I was concerned about you,’ Lawrence replied. ‘You must believe me. I knew nothing then of your connection to the family. But even before I knew you were a girl, I thought your family should know your whereabouts. It was clear from everything you’d said that you were very young, well educated, and dangerously adrift in the world. You had mentioned your brother’s first name and where he was posted. You’d entrusted the surname Smith to the Saunders. Once I knew all that, he wasn’t difficult to trace.’
‘That was it?’ I asked. ‘Truly? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I kept silence because I feared you would think I was interfering.’
‘You did not try to lure him into a trap, so you could have him killed?’
‘What?’ exclaimed Lawrence. ‘No! How could you think such a thing of me? What motive could I possibly have?’
‘The fact that with her father gone, Robert is the only person between you and the succession,’ said Henry. ‘That could be motive enough!’
Lawrence shook his head. ‘I’ve never expected or coveted the inheritance,’ he assured Henry. He turned to me. ‘Do you believe I would be capable of such a thing, Charlie?’
‘No, not now,’ I said. I felt quite weak with relief. ‘You would have nothing to gain from a false heir. I believe you. But you are imposed upon. That man upstairs is not my brother! You do not believe I murdered my father, do you?’
‘No, Charlie, of course not. Your story makes sense to me; it confirms what I had already suspected.’
‘Her parents never told her who they were,’ said Henry. ‘When she came to me in Dorset, I told her! I held her father’s papers.’
‘The papers those men have now shown to Lord Rutherford?’ asked Lawrence, his eyes widening. ‘How did they come by them?’
‘They threatened to kill Belle,’ I said tearfully, remembering my terror that night. ‘I gave them up.’
Lawrence caught his breath. ‘My God!’ he exclaimed. ‘What is this infamy?’
‘That man upstairs is a liar and a murderer!’ I cried.
‘They took a risk coming straight here with Charlie still alive to tell the tale,’ Henry broke in. ‘Perhaps they had found out the real Robert was on his way and made haste to get here before him, trusting to the tale of Charlie being a thief and a servant to prevent her thwarting their plans.’
‘It’s a good story,’ I admitted. ‘And I lent it truth by stealing Belle. But they were going to shoot her!’
‘I know, Charlie, I know,’ said Lawrence. He fell silent, deep in thought. Henry and I exchanged glances again.
‘Mr Lawrence,’ I said timidly. ‘My brother must be out there somewhere,’ I indicated the park with a sweep of my hand. ‘We need to search for him!’ Quickly, we explained our theory of what must have happened.
‘You’re right,’ agreed Lawrence at once. ‘And we should see if Bridges has returned. Come with me, both of you.’
He led us back to the room where we had waited before. There Mr and Mrs Saunders and Bridges were waiting.
‘Henry!’ exclaimed Bridges, as we entered the room. ‘By God, it’s good to see you! Even if you’ve turned into an old man!’
‘What about you, James?’ asked Henry, his voice thick with emotion. ‘What a crop of grey hair you’ve sprouted!’ The two men embraced and then Henry turned to Mr Saunders for a more detailed description of the man who had ridden through the lodge gates this morning. ‘Did he have pale blue eyes or dark? Was he injured?’ he asked.
‘Dark. What do you mean injured?’
‘Did he have his arm in a sling?’
‘No,’ said Saunders definitely. ‘He did not. The man I opened the gates to this morning was unharmed.’
‘It was the real Robert this morning, then!’ Henry said definitely, turning to me.
‘Perhaps the impostor was hurt overpowering Master Robert,’ suggested Mr Saunders.
‘Perhaps they have concealed him nearby, hoping to move him under cover of darkness,’ said Henry. ‘We must pray they’ve kept him alive.’
‘I hope they think he can be useful to them,’ I said with a voice that shook. ‘There must be a great deal they still don’t know about the family.’ I could see that none of the others were so optimistic. They expected to find a body. I swallowed hard and clenched my fists to keep my courage high.
‘Where do we even start to search?’ asked Mr Saunders helplessly.
‘We must think like those nasty, murdering rogues,’ replied his wife. ‘Where would they hide someone quickly nearby, someone who they attacked on the ride down to the house?’
‘The summer-house?’ I suggested.
‘I’ll check there, but it’s in view of the house,’ said Bridges doubtfully.
‘The crypt?’ Mrs Saunders suggested. ‘I’ll walk up there.’
‘The barn at the Home Farm?’ I said. ‘I’ll go there to look.’
‘I’ll go with you,’ said Lawrence.
‘I’ll go with Charlie,’ said Henry protectively.
‘You won’t find him in any of those places,’ said a girl’s voice behind me. I turned to see Miss Judith in the doorway. She looked coolly amused.
‘Good God, Judith, have you left his lordship alone with those scoundrels?’ demanded Lawrence, hurrying from the room.
‘What could I do?’ asked Miss Judith with a shrug.
‘Keep him company; be a witness!’ he snapped over his shoulder. I could hear him outside giving orders to the servants who hurried upstairs. No doubt the servants would guard the old lord, though I did not imagine even those rogues dared harm him here in his own home where their guilt would be plain to all.
As Lawrence came back into the room, I turned to Miss Judith.
‘You know something?’ I demanded eagerly. ‘Please tell us!’
‘What possible reason could I have for helping you, stable boy?’ she asked disdainfully. ‘No, really, I think I might almost prefer to have the young man upstairs as grandpapa’s heir than a couple of b
umpkin cousins from America. And anyone, absolutely anyone, would be better than dull John as heir.’
‘I understand you still resent me for foiling your elopement recently, Judith,’ said Lawrence. ‘But I was concerned for your safety and acting on your grandfather’s orders. If I did wrong, please don’t revenge yourself on others.’
‘So dull, and so very worthy,’ said Miss Judith with a sigh.
‘Miss Lawrence, you are better than this,’ cried Mrs Saunders. ‘Don’t play these games! What have you seen today?’
Miss Judith looked at her. For a moment it looked as though she would defy her too, but then she shrugged and gave in. ‘Try looking in the icehouse,’ she said.
We didn’t stop to ask how she knew. We all turned and ran out of the house and down through the formal garden behind. I’d never been to the icehouse, but I’d seen the kitchen servants going back and forth. Lawrence and I swiftly drew ahead of our older companions. My heart was hammering with dread and hope. As we approached the trees where the icehouse lay half concealed, I felt sick with fear. Would I find another corpse instead of my living, breathing brother?
Lawrence caught my hand in his and pulled me faster. ‘Courage, Charlie,’ he said. When we reached the icehouse, he pushed open the heavy door, ducked, and entered the building ahead of me. The vast stack of ice that was stored here was mostly gone so late in the summer, so the building lay almost empty, though still cold, half dug into the earth as it was. The light was dim, and I stared about me blindly. I thought I heard a slight noise behind the remaining ice stack, so I followed it. There was nothing there but a pile of sacks. A sickening sense of disappointment flooded me. He was not here! I was about to declare that Miss Judith had been lying or mistaken, when I thought I saw the sacks move.
I ran forward, throwing myself on my knees in the dirt beside them and flung back the sacks. A body in torn underclothes and bound with ropes lay there: face down, pale, and motionless. I whimpered with fright. It was my brother’s soft brown hair, so similar to mine. For a moment, I was too afraid to turn the body, terrified that his throat would have been cut with that evil knife.
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