by May Burnett
“An excellent idea,” Lady Amberley approved. “No disrespect, Thomas, but you are new at this investigation business. A seasoned professional like Hendrickson will be able to find evidence one way or the other. Personally I hope it will support the young lady’s case.”
“Just how close are you and this girl, Thomas?” Lady Minerva asked. “You gave no details, but I gathered that you took a very personal interest in her affairs?”
“That is for her to decide,” Thomas told his aunt, “I would be happy to wed her tomorrow, if she will have me.”
“Ah,” Aunt Charlotte said, “good luck, Thomas. If she is as clever as you describe, she will accept your proposal.”
“If you did wed her tomorrow,” Sir Henry said, “that would be helpful for her case. A respectable family supporting her claim would avoid the appearance that she was merely an adventuress. Besides, her uncle would no longer be her legal heir. Even if Lady Marian died the day after the wedding, the husband rather than the uncle would inherit; so from the uncle’s perspective after her marriage there would no longer be any motive to do away with her. All that hinges on her being able to prove her identity, however.”
“I don’t know that I would marry anyone just to be safe from murder,” Violet observed.
“As her husband you could bring suit against Colville right away, without waiting for Lady Marian’s majority,” Sir Henry added. “But you would be staking your reputation and whole future on your belief in this girl. On the whole, in your position, I would wait until I knew for sure that she is who she claims.”
“I already know,” Thomas said, irked by these doubts. “Did I not mention that she never confessed her identity, until I guessed it for myself?”
“A clever woman could lead you to guess whatever she wanted,” Lady Amberley said mildly. “I am not saying she did, but if she let you think it was your own idea, you would be all the more firmly convinced.”
“She must be a clever woman, whichever is the truth,” Violet said. “That a girl so young could organize her disappearance for years on end is most unusual and well-nigh unbelievable. This Nell, or Marian, must have a cool nerve.”
“Just like her uncle, if she is really the heiress,” her mother pointed out. “They may have that in common.” Thomas started to protest, but thought better of it.
“If she is Lady Marian, and can prove it, she would be a most advantageous match for any young man,” Minerva mused. “She may want to look higher than Thomas once she is in possession of her fortune.”
“Even if she decides not to have me,” Thomas declared, “I am pledged to help her to the best of my poor abilities.”
“In that case, we could begin by rattling the cage a little,” his uncle James suggested. “I am friends with Michael Selbington, the proprietor of the Society Argus. He will be most interested to learn that the supposed drowning of a great heiress might not have been all it appeared. An article raising questions – without making definite assertions – could prepare the ground for the eventual lawsuit, if it should come to that. Any results Hendrickson comes up with, regarding irregularities in the proceedings and burial, could be given to Selbington’s muckraking staff, unless we want to keep back certain details for the legal confrontation. Thus the pressure could be gradually increased.”
“That might serve,” Sir Henry agreed.
Thomas was less certain. “Bringing the papers into it will expose poor Nell to notoriety. Are you sure it is advisable?” She would hate being the subject of public speculation.
Sir Henry shrugged. “It will not be pleasant, but remember that the papers will get hold of the story anyway sooner or later. If we allow the other side to get their story in first, it could fatally weaken our chances. With public opinion on the young lady’s side, we might succeed much faster than otherwise.”
“Very well,” Thomas said reluctantly, hoping Nell would understand.
“I can ask Jonathan to look into Colville’s finances,” James added. “If it should turn out that he illegally appropriated some of her fortune before his niece’s supposed demise, that fact could provide additional leverage.” Thomas nodded gratefully. He had already considered applying to Sir Jonathan Durwent, Elizabeth’s father, but James was the man’s long-term friend and business partner.
“Thank you.” Thomas was impressed by the number of helpful suggestions Roger’s father had made. “But what of Lord Ormesby and that parchment letter? Am I right in thinking that it would be improper for Ormesby to talk to Colville about it, and warn him that his niece is preparing a claim?”
“It would indeed be improper,” Sir Henry said, “but you are naïve, Thomas, if you think such a consideration would stop him. At that level, considerations of propriety or even legality do not apply. Men like Ormesby and Colville consider that rules and regulations, as well as laws, exist only for unimportant people. They would not deliver one of their own to the law, if there was any other option. Information and favours are their stock-in-trade, by which they attain high office in the first place.”
“There is something to that, I hate to admit it,” Lord Amberley said. “Ormesby has been avoiding me lately at White’s. The way he tried to use young Thomas to obtain information he could use against Colville, in a way that could not be traced back to him and the Home Office, was already most improper.”
“He warned me not to tell you about it, Uncle George,” Thomas recalled. “I felt that when he indicated he would betray Nell’s existence to Colville, I was no longer bound by that condition.”
“Indeed,” Lady Amberley agreed, “to think that he wanted you to go behind your uncle’s back, who had brought you to his notice in the first place!”
“If Thomas had actually been given a post there, he would have to keep many secrets from his family,” James said mildly. “But I agree with you, Thomas, that you owe Lord Ormesby no loyalty at this point, since he showed none to you. Such men routinely exploit the virtues and energies of subordinates for their own less than admirable purposes.”
“This experience has shown me once and for all that I am not made to work in an office,” Thomas said. “Whatever I elect to do, after this tangle of Nell’s is unravelled, I shall do on my own account. I shall call no man master.”
“Bravo,” Roger applauded, “that is how I also feel. I shall go to Yorkshire with you, and meet this mysterious beauty for myself.”
Thomas started. “There is no need.”
“On the contrary, there is every need to have a cool head about you, since a man in love is not necessarily the best judge of what is best for him. Father and Uncle Henry can handle Hendrickson’s investigation and the press campaign from here, but you will need a stout henchman by your side if Colville’s hirelings track your heiress down.”
“I wonder if I should also go,” Violet said, looking at her mother. “With my twin along, it would be unexceptionable.”
“No,” Mrs. Ellsworthy decided. “You and Amy can befriend Lady Marian once she comes to London. She will be in need of friends near her own age. But young lovers are best left to sort out their own affairs without outside interference. If you are determined to go to Yorkshire, be discreet, Roger. While you are there, give my love to Belinda and Richard. I suppose there is no time to write, if you are off within hours.”
“And give her my greetings as well,” Lady Amberley added. “It is too long since I have visited Yardley Manor.”
“If you should find that the young lady is not Lady Marian after all, write immediately,” James ordered his son. “Until I hear from you we’ll proceed on the assumption that she is indeed the heiress.”
“I might sound out Colville myself,” Lord Amberley mused.
“Better not – he’ll be seeing enemies behind every corner, once the press starts in on his affairs,” James warned.
“And I fear he already distrusts me,” Roger said, and told them about his encounter with the Earl and Countess Colville at the charity concert. “It might
be less suspicious if Aunt Marianne talked to Lady Colville, away from her husband. Surely she must know at least part of what is going on?”
“I am not well acquainted with Lady Colville,” Lady Amberley objected. Thomas inferred from her distant expression that the other Countess moved in less exalted circles, and was probably a dead bore, or undesirable as an acquaintance in some other respect.
“What is wrong with her?” Violet asked. “I have never met her in society. Is she a recluse?”
“Worse,” Roger said, “her people were in trade. Which is not of itself so terrible – Uncle Jonathan is too, after all, or Aunt Celia, but Lady Colville is said to still reek of the shop. She was the daughter of some coal merchant that Colville married for money when he was a younger son at odds with his father and elder brother. He kept her and the children living modestly in Bristol, far from the ton, until he inherited the title. By then of course she was too old and dowdy to successfully adapt to the ways of his class. She is rather plain and does not have much to say for herself.”
“How many children does the man have?” Lady Minerva asked Roger.
“Five. The two oldest sons are at Winchester. The oldest daughter is fourteen. Not one in the family is wearing black armbands for Lady Marian.”
“From what Nell told me, they never even met; so it would be rank hypocrisy for Lady Colville to mourn her,” Thomas pointed out.
“Her uncle has met her,” James said, “and if he does not wear black armbands either, which will be very easy to ascertain, it will be grist for the mill of the Society Argus. That is the kind of detail their readers love.”
“If you boys are leaving early tomorrow, we’d better all be off,” Charlotte Ellsworthy suggested. “But I am very interested to see how all that turns out. You can bring the girl to me when she comes to London, Thomas. Plenty of room in our house.”
“Thank you, Aunt Charlotte.” Thomas had known he could rely on his relatives’ support, but it was still gratifying to have his trust justified by one and all.
Chapter 15
In the late afternoon the ladies were taking tea together in the parlour of Yardley Manor. Mrs. Seymour had a refined palate and insisted on the best quality; Nell breathed in the delicate oolong’s fragrance with relish.
The younger ladies had not entirely given up their distrust of her, but if Mrs. Seymour had similar reservations, she did not betray them by word or gesture. From the first she had been a gracious hostess. Despite her lack of sight she was very much aware of all that went on in her household, with Amelia her able deputy.
Two messages were delivered by their butler on separate trays, to Amelia and Nell. “What can it be, at this hour?” Charlie exclaimed.
“It is Thomas’s handwriting,” Amelia said, opening the envelope and scanning the missive. Nell did the same. Hers was brief indeed.
Lord C. may learn, or already have learned, where you are – will arrive soonest, to find a better hiding place. In the meantime take utmost care. In haste, T. S.
“How mysterious,” Amelia said, “Thomas writes – I am quoting verbatim, Mother – ‘Please take care of Miss M., a powerful enemy may track her to our home. Will return soon.’”
“A powerful enemy? That sounds like a joke,” Charlie said. “Do you know what he is on about, Nell?” They had agreed to call each other by their first names the previous day. “Has he written any more to you?”
“Not really, see for yourself.” She handed the slip of paper to Charlotte, who read it aloud, with patent incredulity. “Who is this Lord C., Nell? The powerful enemy, I must suppose?”
If she had any notion of marrying into this family, frankness would serve her best.
“Yes, he is my uncle and guardian. I am not quite twenty-one, though I shall reach that age in late September. In the meantime, I must stay out of Lord Colville’s reach.”
“Colville? What kind of Lord is he?” Mrs. Seymour asked with interest.
“An Earl. My father was his older brother, and earl before him. When he died five years ago, my uncle Bartholomew Colville inherited the title.”
“Then you are an Earl’s daughter?” Charlotte regarded her dubiously. “Um, legitimate, or not?”
Nell bristled. “Of course I am legitimate. My given name is Lady Marian Louisa Celestine Colville.”
“I have come across that name – Lady Marian Colville – just recently,” Amelia said. “In a newspaper, but the details escape me.”
“You will have seen my obituary, I daresay.” The younger ladies stared at her, and even Mrs. Seymour blinked. “I am supposed to be dead. For that reason my uncle cannot openly claim me, even should he learn I am staying with you. But it would be very much in his interest were I to die before my birthday in September.” She briefly described her history, and the way she had met Thomas in Chatterham.
“It sounds like some sensational novel,” Amelia said. “Yet Thomas seems convinced the danger is real, judging by these messages. I wonder how this Lord Colville could possibly learn where you are? Thomas would know better than to approach him and let such information drop into the conversation.”
“He must have trusted someone with the story, who might talk to Colville,” Mrs. Seymour speculated. “We shall learn soon enough what happened, since he says he is coming home. If he travels as fast as he plans, I hope he suffers no accident on the way.” Nell fully understood her motherly concerns.
“When our brother returns, are you ready to give him your answer to his proposal?” Charlie asked. “Personally, I think you should wait until you are entirely sure of your mind and heart. No good can come of rushing into things, especially when your inheritance is so unsettled.”
“Charlotte,” Mrs. Seymour reproved her younger daughter, “we can all do without your counsel on such a personal matter. Whatever they decide is between Miss Milding – or, Lady Marian, I should say – and Thomas. Neither will thank you for interfering.”
Charlie exhaled noisily. “Yes, Mother. I hope nobody will interfere either, when I decide who I want to marry.”
“You have had a Season in London,” Nell asked curiously, “and you are very pretty – did you not find anyone to your taste?”
“They were all so English. Stuffy and pretentious. Good enough for an evening’s flirtation, but none was the kind of man you’d want to spend the rest of your life with.”
“That was my impression too, of most men frequenting the fashionable marriage mart,” Amelia agreed with her sister. “After the second Season I gave up. They were so swelled with self-importance that they expected me to be grateful if I were allowed to bring my dowry to their titled families. But you will see for yourself soon enough, if you can regain your position. They will swarm around you like flies as soon as society gets wind of your wealth.”
“Just how rich did you say you were?” Charlie demanded.
“I am not sure, exactly. When I left Lord Colville’s solicitor spoke of three estates, one of them in Ireland, and money in the funds, bringing an annual income of over twenty thousand pounds. But he may have squandered or spent a part; or the income may have accumulated in these years, as I certainly did not spend a penny of it myself.”
“That much? No wonder you are hesitating to accept Thomas,” Amelia commented. “You could marry an Earl yourself, at the least, with such a fortune.”
Nell grimaced. “My experience with Earls is not such that I am eager to marry one. I would accept Thomas in a heartbeat, if I felt that I could be wholeheartedly accepted by his family, - and that he was sure of his own mind, and would not regret his knight-errantry in years to come.”
“Then you love him?” Mrs. Seymour asked. “If you do not, better say no. If you do, I would not hesitate to welcome you as another daughter.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Seymour. I promise I shall not accept him unless I love him. But we’d better wait until his return before settling this matter.”
“Aha,” Charlie said. “I see from which direction the w
ind is blowing. If you love my brother, and he you, you have my blessing, for what it’s worth.”
“Mine too,” Amelia said with a slight smile. “I daresay he could do worse, and so could you. Thomas is not nearly as insipid as the average young aristocrat you are likely to meet in London, with their receding chins and boundless arrogance.”
“What of Doctor Seymour?” Nell could not help asking. She only saw the master of the house at meals, distracted by the work that occupied his thoughts even on those occasions. Only when Mrs. Seymour addressed him did he snap out of whatever medical problems possessed him, to be present with his family. “Would he mind?”
“As long as you are loyal to Thomas, Father will like you well enough,” Amelia predicted. “I am not sure if he has even noticed yet that you are staying with us. You must have seen that he lives and breathes medicine almost the whole day long.” Her tone was wry.
“How does it feel to know that you are supposed to be dead and interred in the family crypt?” Charlie asked with ghoulish interest. “It is very gothic, you must admit.”
“It makes me feel very angry, to be honest.”
“Should we call you Marian, or Nell?” Amelia asked.
“I have become so accustomed to Nell that I actually prefer it. And in case your brother’s fears are at all justified, it is also safer if my real name is never used. Servants talk, after all.”
“Very well,” Amelia agreed. “When you marry – whether Thomas or anyone else – would not your husband become your heir, rather than your uncle? It might be safer for you to be a married lady, sooner rather than later, if this Lord Colville is truly as unscrupulous as you believe.”
“Robles, my uncle’s solicitor, said something to that effect,” Nell recalled. “He also said if I married without settlements, my fortune would immediately pass into my husband’s control.”
