Silence in the Library

by Katharine Schellman

  * * *

  It would be dark in an hour, but the proprietor at the coaching inn told Simon that Eynsford Hill Farm was only a fifteen-minute walk and that Mr. and Mrs. Patton lived there with a right passel of little ones. Once Simon paid for his room, the man was even willing to offer the loan of a lantern that Simon could use on the way back.

  Simon almost argued himself out of going that night—he had a nephew and a niece who lived with him at home, and he knew well enough how hectic evenings could be with young ones underfoot. But if he could talk to the Pattons that night, he could catch the first stagecoach back to London in the morning. And Lord knew he needed to get back to London before Mr. Nares at Bow Street decided to take action on the Wyatt case without him.

  He accepted the lantern with ample thanks and set off in the direction the innkeeper pointed, keeping an eye out for a footbridge that would lead to a fork, where he was to take the right path and follow it a quarter mile farther.

  “There’s on’y one lane at the end, and Hill Farm is at the end. Ye can’t miss it,” the innkeeper promised. “And give them my congratulations, o’course. Tell them I’ll be sending along a stew an’ a pie with my Sally in the morning.”

  Simon, a little baffled, said something in agreement, a little too preoccupied with repeating the directions to himself to pay too much attention. He’d be able to question the man over breakfast to confirm whatever the Pattons told him—an innkeeper was bound to be a veritable font of local gossip.

  It wasn’t until he was crossing the footbridge that he thought to wonder what the congratulations were for. But by then it was too late to ask.

  He pressed on, glad that it had been a cloudless day and that the light was lingering. The directions he had been given were good, and it wasn’t long before he found himself following the single lane that led to what looked like a small, tidy farmhouse—not the home of a gentleman farmer, certainly, but prosperous enough.

  The light was just starting to fade as Simon reached the house and knocked. There was a quick scuffle of movement inside, then silence.

  Simon frowned. He was about to knock again when the door was yanked open and he found himself staring into the muzzle of a hunting rifle.

  CHAPTER 23

  After more than a decade of pursuing the criminals of London, Simon didn’t freeze when confronted with a weapon. But his mind did dart through half a dozen choices in the moment it took him to draw a shocked breath.

  In other circumstances, he might have tried to attack, to get inside the range of the rifle, to disarm his opponent. But if this was the Pattons’ house, there were likely children around. He didn’t want to put them in any danger. Instead, he took a smooth step back and raised his hands, showing that he was unarmed. There was no way he was going to smile into the muzzle of a gun, but he tried to make his expression as harmless as possible.

  “Mr. Patton?” he asked, his voice somewhere between soothing and official. The spill of light from inside, after his walk through the fading twilight, made it hard to see. But it seemed a reasonable guess.

  There was a pause from the other end of the rifle. “Who’s asking?”

  “My name is Simon Page, of London. I’m hoping to talk to Mrs. Patton about the will of Sir Charles Wyatt. I understand there is some confusion.”

  Another pause, and then the gun lowered slowly. Simon’s eyes had adjusted now, and he recognized the man facing him as the fellow he had seen through the window on Wimpole Street, talking angrily with Frank Wyatt.

  “What’s the confusion?” Patton demanded, and Simon could see his hands tighten around the grip of the rifle.

  “Sir Charles left a bequest settled on Maud. May I come in to discuss the details?”

  “A what?” Patton frowned.

  “A yearly income.” Simon eyed the man in front of him. Patton was younger than he had thought when he first saw him in London, perhaps in his middle thirties, but with the fatigued look of a man who worked too hard each day to maintain a precarious living. The money Sir Charles had left would make a big difference to this family—and gave them every reason to wish him dead. “May I come in?”

  Patton nodded gruffly, finally standing the gun on its butt next to the door and stepping aside. “Little ’uns are asleep upstairs, so keep y’voice down, if y’please.”

  The farmhouse was more spacious on the inside than Simon had expected. The front sitting room was well cared for, the furniture threadbare but scrupulously clean. Through one half-open door, he could see a kitchen and dining table, with slightly more mess visible than in the front room. A staircase presumably led to the room or rooms upstairs where the children were—a passel of little ones, the innkeeper had said—with two other doors on the main floor.

  After gesturing Simon to sit down, Patton went to one of these and poked his head in. “Edie, girl?” he said, his quiet voice carrying back to where Simon waited. “You decent? There’s a gentleman down from London says he’s here to talk about Sir Charles’s will.” A pause. “I don’t know, but he says there’s a be … a something coming to our Maud.” Another pause. “Well, bring her with you. If he minds, he oughtn’t have showed up at sunset.”

  Simon was frowning over this last statement when Edie emerged from what he assumed was the couple’s bedroom, draped in a heavy shawl and clutching a tiny bundle to her chest. She moved slowly, leaning on her husband’s arm as she did so, but she smiled politely at Simon as he rose to greet her.

  “Mrs. Patton? I’m Simon Page. From London, as your husband said. I apologize for calling so late; the stage only just arrived an hour ago.”

  “Normally I’d scold you, Mr. Page, and tell you that farmers sleep at sundown. But our schedule is all topsy-turvy these days,” Edie said, her voice on the quiet side.

  As she sat, using her husband’s arm to balance, he realized why. The bundle she held was a newborn baby.

  Simon started, suddenly understanding the innkeeper’s words.

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Patton. And you as well, Mr. Patton,” he added, glancing at the proud father, who was beaming down at his wife and new child. “I understand this is not your first?”

  “Aye, I had two boys with my first wife afore she died,” Mr. Patton said, taking his own seat near Edie. “And then Maud was born soon after we was wed. This little lass is number four.”

  “A fine family,” Simon said politely. “How old is the babe?”

  Edie chuckled. “The days all blur together, no mistake. But she’s, let’s see … four days old.” She bent her head to nuzzle the sleeping bundle. “Getting big, aren’t we?” she cooed.

  Simon counted back the days quickly. The child had arrived the day after Sir Charles died. One of them could still have… He cleared his throat. He didn’t have a wife and child of his own, but he knew more than a little about how they made their way into the world. “You and the babe are both doing well, I see. I hope it was a safe delivery.” He hesitated, then added wryly, “I have often thought our soldiers could learn a thing or two about stamina and strength from the laboring mothers of England.”

  Both the Pattons laughed.

  “You’ll hear no disagreement from me, sir,” Edie said, shaking her head even as she stared blissfully at the newborn. Simon could see only a sliver of red cheek, but even that little amount took him back to visiting his sister after the births of his nephew and niece. “Took little miss here near two full days to come.”

  Simon nodded sympathetically, keeping his face and manner as calm as possible. Edie couldn’t have murdered Sir Charles—even had she not been in labor, no one as far along in a pregnancy would have been able to travel to London, sneak into the townhouse of a wealthy man, overpower him, and kill him. But her husband was another matter.

  Simon cleared his throat, adding a jovial note to his voice as he said, “I hope the lads at the inn were able to pour you a stiff drink or two while you waited it out, Mr. Patton.”

  The farmer shook his head. “I lost
one wife in childbirth, Mr. Page. Even once the doctor arrived, I wasn’t going anywhere while my girl was workin’ so hard here.”

  It took all Simon’s self-control to stay seated. If Mr. Patton had been by his wife’s side for those two days, there was no way he could have murdered Sir Charles either.

  Which meant it had to be one of the Wyatts.

  “I think he bullied her into giving up her cozy lodgings,” Edie said, rolling her eyes. “Not that I’m complaining. I was that ready to be done.”

  “Gave us a right scare, she did, taking so long,” Patton added, taking his wife’s hand and giving her a gentle smile. “Poor Edie.”

  “But excuse us, sir, you ain’t here to talk about childbirth, of course,” Edie said, looking up at last. “You want to talk about Maud, I think.”

  “Yes.” Simon hesitated. He had what he had come for. But there was always the chance they were lying. And Mr. Patton had shown up in London demanding to know whether there was anything in the will for his wife’s daughter—money that he, as her father, would see added to his own income, at least until Maud came of age.

  The Pattons misread his hesitation, though, and exchanged a furtive glance. Patton sighed and shook his head. “It’s all right, Mr. Page. You can speak plain. If you’ve seen the will, you know how things stand. Maud’s my daughter under the law, but everyone around here knows the truth of things. Nothing to do about that.” He shrugged. “Mr. Frank already gave us that ten pounds, which we was glad to have, believe me. But if Sir Charles left her summat more, that’ll go a long way to easing her life.”

  “And yours?” Simon couldn’t help asking, though he managed not to speak too sharply.

  “I’ve got four little ones now, Mr. Page,” the farmer said, a note of wry humor in his voice. “Nothing’s going to make my life easy.”

  “He agreed to be stuck with us long before this, and he’ll be stuck long after.” Edie laughed, giving the baby a little rock as she whimpered in her sleep. Simon couldn’t quite keep the shock from his face at her levity; most women would be far more embarrassed about having become pregnant and wed under such circumstances. But Edie was giving her husband a teasing smile. “I’ve a feeling you wouldn’t have come all this way with bad news, and Lord knows poor Mr. Patton deserves some good for putting up with me.”

  “You’re a handful, girl, but I like you well enough,” the blond giant rumbled, smiling back at her.

  Simon, unsure where to look when faced with such an obvious display of affection, cleared his throat and brought out a paper covered in scribbled notes. Before leaving London, he had paid a visit to Mr. Hammond once more. After being told what Frank Wyatt had done, the solicitor had agreed both to let Simon take another look at the will and to travel to Kent himself to sort out the matter of Maud Patton’s inheritance. Simon had made the trip immediately, of course, wanting to see before the solicitor got there whether there was any possibility of the Pattons’ guilt. He had come prepared with the details of the bequest.

  As he read them out, he kept a careful eye on both Edie and her husband, watching their faces for any sign that they were less surprised by Sir Charles’s gift than they should have been.

  “ ‘To Mrs. E. Patton and her daughter Maud Patton, a bequest of four hundred pounds, the interest of which will provide an income of twenty pounds per year.’ The income will go to you, Mr. and Mrs. Patton, until Maud either turns twenty-one or marries, whichever comes first. After that, two hundred and fifty pounds goes to Maud—the income will go to her husband if she marries, but the terms of the will stipulate that the money itself will remain hers, to settle as she wishes after her death—and the remaining hundred fifty pounds will belong to Mrs. Patton until her death, after which they’ll revert to Maud once more.”

  “Twenty pounds per year,” Patton breathed.

  “And a dowry for our girl.” Edie’s eyes had filled with tears, and she quickly brushed them away. “Excuse me, Mr. Page; I’m a right waterworks when the babes are little, especially right after they come. But a dowry!” She shook her head, cuddling the bundle in her arms close and smiling through her tears. “Sir Charles gave me forty pounds, you know, when I told him I had to leave service. He wanted me to get married so that his child wouldn’t be born a bastard. Mr. Patton wanted to pay off the mortgage on the farm, so it worked out well enough.”

  “Edie grew up near here,” Patton said. “And my little ones needed a mother.”

  His entire face had gone red with embarrassment at having the mercenary foundations of his marriage laid so bare. But Simon saw nothing to judge. Providing the protection of his name to a woman and child who might otherwise have been ostracized and impoverished was a noble gesture, especially when he knew it meant that another man’s child would be legally considered his own. And the Pattons at least seemed to be genuinely fond of each other, which was more than could be said for plenty of marriages based on economic or social necessity.

  “So I knew Sir Charles was a good man,” Edie said earnestly.

  Simon couldn’t help the way his eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “Forgive me, Mrs. Patton, but I’m surprised to hear you say so. After he …” He cleared his throat, unsure how to phrase his point.

  Patton’s blush grew, rising to the edge of his sandy hair, but Edie shook her head. “You ain’t never been in service, Mr. Page, I can see that much. I’ll tell you for free, there are plenty of gentlemen as think nothing of interfering with their maids, whether the maids like it or not. Sir Charles may have enjoyed lifting a skirt or two, but he never did it unless the girl in question was willing. And he never told me to get rid of the babe once he found out I was in the family way neither. Never tried to say it wasn’t his neither. Just made sure we was going to be all right.”

  “You was always courtin’ trouble, even as a girl,” Patton said, half severely, half in exasperation, as he shook his head at his wife. “No surprise to anyone around here that y’found plenty of it being in service in London.”

  “Well, she’s your little girl now, and you couldn’t ask for a sweeter,” Edie countered, tossing her head a little as she gave her husband a pert look.

  “Aye, true enough, and now we’ve this little one,” Patton said, leaning over to brush a gentle hand against the sleeping newborn’s head. “You don’t hear me complaining.”

  There was, Simon guessed, over a decade of difference in their ages. But they seemed to get along well. More to the point, they both seemed genuinely happy with the way things had worked out. And he thought, as Edie turned to him, that they were truly grateful for Sir Charles’s generosity.

  “He doesn’t, you know, much as he likes to give me a setdown every now and then,” she said, tucking in the baby’s blankets a little more tightly. “We was able to pay off the farm’s mortgage. And the parish has a school that the children will be able to go to. With another twenty pounds a year …” Her eyes grew wide and wondering. “We’ll have almost a gentleman’s income!”

  An impoverished gentleman’s, Simon wanted to point out—at most that of a very young curate with no family to support. But he didn’t say so. For a family like the Pattons, twenty pounds would come near to doubling their income. They would be able to hire help on the farm, which would allow their sons, and perhaps even their daughters, to get an education. Their grandchildren might even be able to enter the more genteel professions and stand shoulder to shoulder with gentlemen in truth.

  “And a dowry for Maud,” Patton said. There was no trace of resentment in his voice over the fact that his other children wouldn’t have the same; with more than forty pounds per year now, he might even be able to provide a small dowry for his other daughter. “You was right when you said he was a kind man.” He cleared his throat. “That Sir Charles, I mean.”

  “Well, I knew you couldn’t mean Mr. Frank,” Edie said, her expression darkening. “Him wanting to keep that from his own sister! I never asked them to acknowledge her,” she added earnestly, turnin
g to Simon. “It would just have made her life harder, poor thing, being caught between worlds like that. But you’d think he’d want to know she never would go hungry, or that she’d have a dowry to make a good marriage and better herself. His own sister!”

  The tension in her body must have traveled through her arms; the sleeping baby began to whimper and squirm a little. Edie fell silent, though her expression was still thunderous.

  “Easy,” Patton said, laying a hand on his wife’s arm. “If he’d kept it from her, he’d have had to answer for it one day, in the next life if not this one. And Maud would’ve still grown up loved and safe.”

  “I know, but …” Edie’s voice was calmer now, and she rocked the baby gently as she shook her head. “That Frank has always been a nasty piece of work. Makes out like he’s such a fine gentleman, but he always wants what other people have. He don’t like his brother, so I suppose it’s no wonder he don’t like his sister neither.”

  “And Maud won’t ever have a thing to do with him now,” Patton said firmly, his hand still moving up and down his wife’s arm in a soothing caress.

  Simon, watching them, felt a pang of jealousy. How could two people who had such a hard life, whose marriage was founded on such odd circumstances, seem so content, so happy together? His work meant that he so often saw the worst of humanity, and he had come to Kent expecting to be met with more of the same. It was disorienting to suddenly be confronted with the exact opposite.

  Clearing his throat, he stood abruptly. “I ought to be going. My apologies for calling so late, and thank you for speaking with me.”

  “Will you be by tomorrow, then?” Patton asked.

  Simon shook his head. “I’ll be returning to London tomorrow.” He would need to talk to the local doctor to confirm that Edie had given birth the day she claimed and that Mr. Patton had indeed been by her side. But once that was done, he could be on his way back to town.

  “But …” Edie looked surprised. “Are there papers we’re needing to sign? Something we have to do? I never had to deal with a bank or solicitors; I’m not sure how it’s managed.”