by Rose Pearson
“It would mean that he was the gentleman behind it all,” Beatrice said, struggling to get the words out for fear of what Lord Greaves would say. “Yes, that is what I mean.” A frantic urge to have him realize that she was not accusing Adlington but rather only make a suggestion rushed through her. “That is not to say that I am correct, Lord Greaves,” she stammered, all the more awkwardly. “It is only a thought – and a thought that I am sure is quite incorrect.”
A long, tense silence filled the room. Beatrice did not know where to look, glancing at Lady Smithton, who was looking towards Lord Havisham. Lord Havisham, in turn, was beginning to nod slowly, his brows also low over his eyes and his jaw set firm. Beatrice closed her eyes tightly, her breathing quick and fast as she felt Lord Greaves’ judgement begin to settle down heavily on her shoulders.
“It would make sense.”
Her head shot up, her eyes wide as she stared at Lord Greaves, seeing the frustration on his face.
“You need not look so afraid, Lady Beatrice,” he continued, with a wry smile. “I am not about to become angry with you.” A sigh escaped him as he shook his head. “Now that you have suggested it, I fear that I can well understand your reasons for doing so. Which leads me to consider what you have suggested and to think that there may be some truth in it.”
“I am sorry if I am mistaken,” Beatrice answered, hastily. “I do not want your brother to be in danger only for us to decide that he is, in fact, the one at fault.”
“But your suggestion has no flaw,” Lord Havisham interrupted, quickly. “Mr. Adlington could well have gone to a solicitor whom he knew would be partial to a bribe, to ensure that the house in question would be purchased without constraint and, therefore, able to be used in whatever way he wished.”
Lord Greaves ran one hand over his eyes. “My brother has been very low on funds of late,” he said, quietly. “I have refused to give him any more coin, for fear that he will simply lose it in gambling and the like.”
“But you believed that he was turning from all of that,” Beatrice protested, as though she wanted to defend Adlington somehow. “Is that not so?”
With heavy eyes, Lord Greaves looked back at her. “And I was mistaken,” he said, quietly. “With the notes about my brother’s affairs and his requirement for money to pay his debts, I believed that I had been taken in by his deceit and his falsehood. What is there to say that I have not been taken in so again?”
Lady Smithton poured her tea carefully, before setting down her china teapot and lifting her head. “Lord Greaves, why would your brother wish to do such a thing?” she asked, quietly. “If he has been the one to set up everything, to have pretended such difficulties and to go so far as to purchase a townhouse under your name, then he has played a very merry game with you, has he not? And to what end?”
Beatrice turned her gaze back towards Lord Greaves, seeing an almost haggard expression on his face. Her heart ached for him, upset to see him so troubled and yet fully aware that this in itself might bring about an end to his desperate situation.
“My brother needs money,” Lord Greaves said, with a small shrug. “The money requested from me is by no means insignificant. Knowing that I would not part with any more money, he fooled me into believing that he was just the sort of fellow I had always hoped he would become so that, when the time came to believe his story of kidnap, I would do so without hesitation.”
“And the money you are to leave for his safe return will then be used for whatever he desires,” Beatrice finished, as Lord Greaves nodded despondently. “Once the money has been taken by his companion – or companions – he will then reappear at your door, haggard and filled with gratitude and relief.”
“I must suppose that this is what he intends, yes,” Lord Greaves murmured, pouring himself another glass of port. “And I shall be the laughingstock of his companions, believing that they have taken me in.”
“Then what are we to do?” Lord Havisham asked, looking from Lord Greaves, to Beatrice to Lady Smithton. “If we are to prove this, then there must be something we can do.”
Beatrice nodded. “For if we are wrong, the consequences are not worth thinking about,” she said, suppressing a small shudder. “We do not want Adlington to be harmed.”
Lord Greaves let out his breath with a hiss. “I hardly think that likely,” he told her, with a grim smile. “I spoke to you of the second voice that seemed so familiar, but yet appeared so distant.” His eyes closed for a moment, his expression shuttered. “I am sure, now, that it was none other than Adlington.” His gaze fixed upon Beatrice, who felt her face heat with a sudden, unquenchable fire. “You are wise indeed, Lady Beatrice, and I believe you have hit upon the answer to all my questions and queries. My brother has been playing a merry tune and I have danced along with it thus far…..but no more.”
“Whatever you decide, Lord Greaves, I will come alongside you,” she told him, seeing Lord Havisham nod and hearing Lady Smithton murmur the same. “You do not have to face this alone.”
“I thank you,” he said, looking about the table and giving them each a brief smile. “Let us hope that this time, the matter will finally be brought to an end.”
Chapter Thirteen
Today, Frederick thought to himself, was the day when he would know for certain whether or not Lady Beatrice had been correct in her suggestions. Part of him already knew it within himself, recalling how he had known that voice, how it had felt so familiar to him, and yet a small voice begged him not to believe it. It was as if to allow himself to fully commit to the idea that it was Adlington behind it all would be to break apart completely the bond between himself and his brother.
Frederick grimaced, picking up the bag that contained the money he had been requested to bring. Not all of it was there, of course, for he had weighed the bag down and then put only a little of the money on top, but whoever picked it up to glance inside would soon surely be satisfied by what was there. Waiting for his carriage to stop rolling, he held his breath for a moment to steady his nerves before he pushed the door open, not waiting for the tigers, and then stepped outside.
The address that had been given to him was none other than a place in the very heart of London. Lord Havisham had gone in search of the address yesterday evening and had written to him only this morning to state that it was very busy shop. A shop that seemed to sell all manner of things and that, according to Lord Havisham, had a large table to the left of it that was covered with a bright blue cloth. Frederick presumed that this was the ‘blue table’ that had been referenced in the note.
They had discussed matters late into the night and then again early this morning, for Lady Beatrice and Lady Smithton had returned to his house a little after breaking their fast in order to settle matters. Lord Burnley had been rather in his cups the previous night, according to Lady Beatrice, so had not noticed when she had come home and when she had left, which Frederick thought to be to his own advantage. Lady Beatrice had proven herself to be as quick and as intelligent as any he knew, and he greatly valued both her insight and her sharp mind. It had taken courage for her to be so open with him, he knew, and for that he appreciated her all the more. It had been she who had asked how the person responsible would know that he had not only left the bag but left the shop also, stating that surely the person in question would not enter it when Frederick himself was inside. They had decided that the shop would be being watched, and that Adlington himself or his companions would not dare enter it whilst Frederick was anywhere in the vicinity – which meant, unfortunately, that Frederick would have to merely deliver the bag to its expected location, and then return immediately to his carriage and drive away before returning a short time later. Lady Beatrice, Lady Smithton and Lord Havisham would remain in the vicinity to watch for those who might go to collect the bag. If he did not return in time, Lord Havisham would follow after the perpetrator and leave Frederick, Lady Smithton and Lady Beatrice to hurry after him.
Sighing inwardly,
Frederick moved quickly towards the shop, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the shop door and not allowing his gaze to dart to the right or left. Looking straight ahead, he smiled grimly at the large number of people going in and out of the shop, as well as those who walked by it. Little doubt that this shop had been chosen specifically, given just how busy it was.
His jaw clenched as he moved past one or two young ladies who were standing by the door, admiring something. Looking all about him, he soon saw the blue table in question and, without hesitation, placed the bag under it, making sure that the blue cover soon fell back into place.
His stomach tightened as he straightened, looking down at the blue table cover and wondering just who would come to collect the money. Surely his brother would not be the one to do so, for fear that someone known to Frederick would be watching! Silently, he prayed that the others would be watching closely, for with everyone coming in and going, it would be very easy for someone to slip away unnoticed.
Turning around, Frederick strode from the shop, his shoulders straight and his head lifted high. Walking towards his carriage, he felt as though there were eyes fixed on his back, watching every step he took, waiting until the carriage took him away. Keeping his steps measured, he made his way to the carriage, the door already opened for him, and climbed inside. Unable to resist, he looked out of the window as he rapped on the roof, half hoping, half praying that he would see someone – anyone – that he recognized.
All he saw was a sea of faces, which began to blur as the carriage rolled away. His head began to ache once more, making him wince as the injury to his head began to throb. Closing his eyes, Frederick leaned back against the squabs and let out a long breath. All he could do now was wait.
Some twenty minutes later and the carriage slowly came to a stop. Frederick opened his eyes and sat up straight, looking all about him and realizing precisely where he was. His driver had done just as instructed and now it was time for Frederick to return to the shop and to pray that Lord Havisham, Lady Smithton and Lady Beatrice had found something of importance.
Climbing out of the carriage, Frederick pulled his hat down low, hunched his shoulders just a little and began to weave in and out of the crowd, knowing precisely where he was going and hoping that he would not be noticed by anyone in particular. His breath hitched as he glanced up to see the shop just a few yards ahead. Looking to his left, he saw Lord Havisham and Lady Smithton standing together, although there was no sign of Lady Beatrice. Moving swiftly towards them, he murmured a quick greeting before looking back at the shop.
“Lady Beatrice has gone inside,” Lady Smithton murmured, as Frederick kept his back towards the shop. “We have seen nothing and no-one of note, although if Lady Beatrice was to come out towards us again, we will know that the bag is gone.” She gave him a small shrug, a knowing smile on her lips. “I know that this was not our intention but Lady Beatrice could not be prevented.”
Frederick nodded slowly, wanting desperately to turn around to look at the shop again but knowing that it was best for him not to do so. “I understand that she wants to help but I hope she is safe,” he murmured, quietly. “Although I had thought that someone would have gone in by now in search of the bag. I am surprised that –”
“Wait.”
Lord Havisham suddenly grasped his arm tight, making Frederick wince.
“There.”
Lady Smithton’s breath caught as she gasped, one hand to her mouth. “Lady Beatrice,” she whispered, making Frederick turn around. “What can she be doing?”
Lord Havisham grasped Lady Smithton’s arm, just as Frederick saw Lady Beatrice hurrying through the crowd, away from them all. “Come,” he heard Lord Havisham say, “we must attempt to catch her. It is apparent that she has seen something.”
“Or someone,” Frederick muttered, hurrying after Lady Beatrice with his heart in his throat. As quickly as he could, he tried to keep up with her, not wanting her to be afraid but to know that they were nearby. Lord Havisham and Lady Smithton walked behind him, only a few steps further behind, their presence a comfort and an encouragement to him.
Lady Beatrice suddenly began to slow, turning her head and, upon seeing him, falling back all the more. He caught up with her almost at once, her fingers grasping his arm before she pulled him along with her.
“A man came in,” she whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. “He took the bag from its hiding place and left without a word. If I had not been watching him, I would not have noticed him, I am sure of it.”
“And do you recognize him?” Frederick hissed, as Lady Beatrice gave him a quick shake of her head. “You know him not?”
Again, Lady Beatrice shook her head. “I do not,” she answered, softly. “But see how quickly he walks. He is furtive in his movements, quick in his steps. I am sure that he is afraid of being followed.”
Frederick trained his gaze on the back of the man’s head, seeing what Lady Beatrice meant. The man walked more quickly than any other about him, glancing this way and that. Upon occasion, he looked over his shoulder but Frederick, his hat still low and his shoulders still hunched, never seemed to be recognized.
“Where do you think he is going?” Lady Beatrice asked, her breathing ragged as they followed the man from a distance, turning first to the left and then to the right. The streets became narrower, the clouds seeming to gather and spread their darkness and gloom. “Is he to lead us to your brother?”
Frederick gritted his teeth, his jaw working furiously as he felt his certainty grow all the more. “I am sure of it,” he muttered, pulling Lady Beatrice to a sudden stop and a little more into the shadows of the alley as the man stopped dead, throwing a long look over his shoulder before turning towards the door of a terraced house, which was in such poor condition that Frederick could hardly believe anyone lived in it. He held his breath, turning his head a little further away from the man and allowing Lady Beatrice to watch the man in his place.
“He has gone in,” Lady Beatrice whispered, as she looked up at him, a twinge of fear in her voice. “What are we to do?”
“We are to follow,” Lord Havisham grated, as Lady Smithton came to stand beside Lady Beatrice. “I would ask you both to wait here, but I would presume that such a request would fall on deaf ears.” His wry smile came due to Lady Smithton’s arched eyebrow, as Lady Beatrice clung tighter to Frederick’s arm.
“I could not have come this far without you,” Frederick said, putting one hand on top of Lady Beatrice’s. “We go in together.”
“Together,” Lady Beatrice murmured, attempting to smile before Lady Smithton took her arm and held her back as Frederick and Lord Havisham made their way across the street towards the house, leaving Lady Beatrice and Lady Smithton to follow behind.
Pushing the door open carefully, Frederick stopped at once upon hearing the murmur of voices. Leaning forward, he looked carefully into the room but saw nothing. There was no light flickering in the room, not even a single candle to light the way. Beckoning to Lord Havisham, he moved inside a little more, hardly daring to breathe.
“There,” Lord Havisham whispered, pointing ahead of Frederick. “That room. There.”
Frederick nodded, seeing a light straight ahead coming from a crack under a door. Glancing back to Lord Havisham, he nodded his agreement. “With all swiftness,” he murmured, throwing caution to the wind and, striding forward, shoving the door open so hard that it slammed back against the wall and framed both Frederick and Lord Havisham in the doorway.
The sight that met Frederick’s eyes did not shock nor surprise him. He saw his brother Adlington kneeling on the floor, the bag sitting in front of him, whilst the solicitor, Mr. Soames, backed up against the wall, his eyes wide and his mouth ajar.
It seemed Lady Beatrice had been right. Adlington had done it all.
“Adlington,” Frederick said, gruffly, hearing the gasp from Lady Beatrice as she came into the room behind him. “It seems that you are not the man I believed you t
o be.”
His brother stared at him, wide-eyed with shock, a single note in his hand. As Frederick watched, Adlington let go of the money and it dropped back into the bag, discarded completely.
“I….” Adlington stuttered, his face now a little ashen. “I did not mean to…..”
Frederick shook his head, disgust riling up within him. “You are nothing more than a crook and a thief, Adlington,” he stated, feeling no particular anger but rather nothing more than sorrow and disappointment that his brother had chosen to behave this way. “You have given in to your own greed and so have sought to extort me in the worst way possible.” He tipped his head just a little to the left, looking at his brother through narrowed eyes. “You bought a house in my name, forging my signature and using my signet ring, all so that you might use it as your own and for your own purposes. To push me from one place to the next, to have me run from one part of London to the other and having others do your work for you so that you might remain hidden in the shadows.”
“And what is worst of all,” said a quiet voice a little behind him, “is that your brother was afraid for you. He did all he could to try and find you and was willing to give all that was asked, simply so that your safety might be secured.”
Frederick turned to see Lady Beatrice looking directly at his brother, her face white with anger. She was clearly upset on his behalf but, for the first time, Frederick felt his heart free. Free of all the upset, fear and dismay that had tormented him for so long. Free of all but the affection he had for Lady Beatrice, knowing now that it was naught but love that filled his heart.
“I have nothing else to say to you, Adlington,” he said, turning back to face his brother and looking at him steadily. “Henceforth, you and I no longer share the close relationship we once did. You shall never have a penny from me and I bid you farewell.”
