“Well, now, has someone slipped a little extra sugar in your tea this morning?”
He started to clear his throat, but caught himself just in time. “Good morning, Mother. How are you this morning?” He moved to rise to his feet, but she put out a hand to stay him.
“Not as cheerful as you, I daresay. Is there some good news in your paper, or are you merely daydreaming?”
“Mother! I am a sober man of one and thirty! I, daydream? I think you mistake me for some young sod with little but romance on his mind.”
“My mistake,” she deadpanned, reaching for her own saucer. “In that case, perhaps you will be so good as to read me this delightful article in today’s paper.”
His expression cleared sedately as he craned his neck to look over the rim of his cup. Hannah smirked, amused that this boy of hers, who might easily have been mired by worry and cares, was able to sit at table and fantasize about his bride. Troubles or no, she was satisfied… no, that would not do. She was delighted beyond all that she would ever confess that Margaret Hale was a young woman of worth, and that the girl was at long last as devoted to John as he had always been to her.
The harsh clatter of John’s cup on the saucer brought her eyes sharply to his face. “John? What is it?”
He had lifted the paper with both hands, his face dark with astonishment as he continued to read. She watched his eyes flying over the print as his expression grew more and more grave.
“John!”
He lowered the paper and looked up. “The Drapers- you remember them?”
“That fellow from Scarborough and his wretched wife. Yes, of course I remember them! What is it?”
Dazed, he let the paper fall to the table. “They have fled the country, and are suspected to have taken with them nearly four thousand pounds of contributions donated to build that ‘hospital’!”
“What, fled? How could they do that? Surely it is impossible, even for that woman!” she sneered. “I thought all of those monies had to be kept in a special sort of account set aside for the proper purpose.”
He shook his head vaguely as he continued reading. “The account appears to have been a fraud. They are still investigating, but they have not yet found who helped them set it up, or where all the money has gone.” He kept reading. “There are a number of quite influential people righteously offended over this! It appears Draper obtained solicitations from some of the wealthiest donors from all over the country.”
His eyes kept scrolling as he murmured the highlights from the article. “So far the investigators have very few leads back to the Drapers. One is that sham of a doctor, Douglas, who seems to have also disappeared, and….” His face suddenly bled of all colour and his fingers went lax.
“John! What does it say?” Mrs Thornton was nearly writhing in suspense at his abrupt pallor.
His lips mumbled as his eyes stared, unseeingly, at the page. “… ‘And one Miss Margaret Hale of Milton, who penned and signed most of the letters of solicitation.’”
Hannah’s own cup crashed to the saucer, spilling nearly all of its contents. Her eyes began to glitter fiercely. “The swine!” she spat. “Vulgar, slanderous fiends! How dare they discredit that girl!”
Shaking, he clambered up from his chair, nearly tripping in his awkward haste. “I must go, Mother!”
“John, you are not fit to walk so far! You must call for some horses and take your carriage, at the least!”
“I haven’t time, Mother!” he cried over his shoulder, and not bothering to remind her that he had already sold his carriage. “They may already be at her door!”
~
Margaret peered nervously into the sitting room from the outer hall. “Dixon,” she whispered quietly, “what do they want?”
Dixon, her eyes wide, shrugged helplessly. “You don’t think it’s about Master Fred, do you Miss?” she hissed back. “I thought Mr Thornton settled that.”
“So had I! No, it cannot be that. It has been too long ago!” She frowned, looking back to the men loitering in her drawing room. “I suppose there is nothing else for it.”
She drew herself up to her full height, unconsciously adopting the regal air which had first captured John Thornton’s admiration and Hannah Thornton’s contempt. “Gentlemen,” she inclined her head graciously as she entered the room. “May I help you?”
The foremost man stood, and Margaret fought a visible twitch of her lashes when she recognized him. “Good morning, Miss Hale. You may remember me, Joseph Mason from investigations.”
She dipped her head politely. “I do, Mr Mason.”
He harrumphed a little, squaring his jacket. He had been frustrated by this woman before, and by heaven, he was going to have some straight answers this time! “This is Mr Davenport, one of the local magistrates, and Mr Crawley, from our London bureau.”
“London!” she exclaimed. “Good heavens, has something happened to my cousin or my aunt?”
The three men glanced at one another. “Not to our knowledge, Miss,” answered Mr Davenport. “We had some frank questions to ask you regarding your involvement in a fraudulent bank account set up under the name of Milton Charitable Trust.”
Margaret stared back at him blankly, then her gaze searched the faces of the other two. “Gentlemen, I have no idea what you can mean.”
Mr Crawley came forward. “Miss Hale, will you please be so good as to verify whether or not this is your hand?” He drew out a folded sheet of writing paper and opened it before her.
Margaret took the paper and her fingers began to tremble. She blinked. “Yes,” she verified softly. “This is my writing.”
Mason’s chest swelled in a long, sweet breath of victory. “That letter,” he pointed, “was one among dozens sent to wealthy donors throughout the kingdom. Were you aware of this?”
She swallowed shakily. “Yes,” she answered in a still softer voice.
“Then I will ask you again, Miss Hale. What do you know about the trust account?”
Margaret opened her mouth to deny any knowledge, but the sound of a door slamming behind her caused her to jump and turn round.
“She knows nothing, Mason,” John Thornton strode heavily into the room, masking his weakness almost completely to all eyes but Margaret’s.
Mason’s jaw hardened. “Mr Thornton, sir. I did not know you were well enough recovered to be about.”
“I am,” he retorted flatly. “Mason, may I have a word?”
The young inspector flinched somewhat, but stood his ground. He may have owed John Thornton his start in the bureau, but this case was simply too large, and too many important people wanted answers. Moreover, there was something queer about the way Thornton seemed to turn up whenever Miss Hale was in question. Mason straightened. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, sir. Mr Davenport is the magistrate assigned to the case, as we all feared you were not strong enough.”
“Thornton,” Davenport greeted.
Thornton glared from one man to the other. His incensed demeanour might have caused Mason, and perhaps even Crawley to quail somewhat, but allied with another magistrate, they stared boldly back. “I see,” he at last responded, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Well, then, let us have it. What questions do you have, Mason?”
“Miss Hale has acknowledged this to be her writing, sir. I am afraid that is more than enough for an inquest. We would like her to answer what she knows about the account.”
Margaret looked helplessly to John, revealing far more than she intended in that one desperate glance. He cut his gaze away, but not before Mason’s suspicions were confirmed.
John’s glare froze on Mason. If they were going to perform the inquest anyway, they had no right to force her to answer such a question now. Perhaps, though, her utter ignorance would be apparent to them, and if they were in a generous mood at all, they might even now leave her be. It was worth a chance. “Miss Hale,” John asked evenly, his eyes still on Mason, “what do you
know about the account?”
She gasped. “Nothing! I do not even know what has happened! Please, will someone tell me?”
John’s eyes flickered. “The lady knows nothing. She was defrauded of her time and energies just as others were of their money. I am afraid you gentlemen will need to look elsewhere for your answers.”
“Not so hasty, Thornton!” Davenport objected. “This is my case, after all, and not yours.” He glanced at the two inspectors. “Gentlemen, I have heard enough to determine that an inquest is necessary. Perhaps, Miss Hale, you were an innocent in this business after all, but we will let the facts be heard. Thornton,” he paused to level a significant stare at the other magistrate, “we will handle this. You look like you ought to be in bed, old friend.”
Mason allowed a satisfied little smile for the barest half of a second. “We will notify you when you need to be present, Miss.” The three men took their leave, and Dixon shooed them out the door with profound relief.
John’s mask of invulnerability dissolved. His face white as a sheet, he shakily sought Margaret’s strength, staggering a step or two nearer to her. “John!” she swept under the crook of his arm and wrapped her supporting hand low about his waist. “What were you thinking, coming so far! You did not walk, did you?”
He groaned and carefully eased himself to the sofa. “I did.”
“John Thornton, I have never known you to be foolish, but this! Have you lost your mind?”
“Long ago,” he winked half-heartedly as he slowly draped his tall frame against the back of the furniture. He took several long breaths, as deeply as he dared, trying to regain control of his pain. At length, “I am sorry they came to you. Are you well?”
“I am confused! Do you know what all of this is about?”
Wordlessly he tugged the folded newspaper from the inner pocket of his coat and handed it to her. She scanned it quickly, her face growing more pale even than his. “I cannot believe this! Have they really gone, and all of the money raised for the hospital is missing?”
“It would appear so.”
“Oh dear!” she covered her mouth with her hand. “John, this is dreadful! All of those donors thought their money was going to a good cause, and the people of Milton are the losers!”
“And anyone associated with the Drapers,” he scowled.
“John, what do they think I know? I only wrote those letters as a favour, because I thought I could be of help! Oh, I wish I would have heeded your advice in the first place!”
“You did nothing wrong, Margaret,” he soothed. “Your motives were untainted. The investigators will see that, in time. I only fear for what trouble and mortification this will cost you! Your name is in every paper from here to Hampshire, you may be assured.”
Margaret’s cheeks flushed from her deathly pallor to vivid humiliation. “Oh, John!” She buried her face against his shoulder. “I am so ashamed! How could I have been so blind?”
“Come, love,” he whispered into her hair. “You were no more blind than the rest of us. You in your compassion longed to do something which no one else could be troubled to do, that is all. Do not blame yourself, my Margaret. I cannot bear to see you hang your head in shame!”
She pressed her face against the wool of his coat collar, still sniffling. “My reputation is lost! How am I to look the people of this town in the eye? Oh!” She straightened as the most horrifying thought struck her. “John, you cannot afford to have your name linked with mine just now! If the banns are read, and you are known to be betrothed to me, what will that do to your chances for another position? Your own honour will be called into question!”
“It may already be too late for that.” He stroked her hair, lovingly wrapping one of the rich dark curls over his finger. “I did you no favours by coming here today. I impulsively wished to protect you, but I only made you look the more suspicious.”
“I do not understand. Do you have some animosity with Mr Davenport?”
“No, not at all. He is an honest chap, but he did not look kindly on my interference. One magistrate does not meddle with another’s cases unless consulted; it is the unwritten law. Additionally,” his cheek flinched and he looked down to her with a pained expression, “Mason is curious now. He is a good fellow, but when I called off his investigation into Leonards’ death, he was less than content.”
“But Fred had nothing to do with Leonards’ death!”
“Yes, and he also was forced to admit as much, but he knew that something you said was off. I think he sensed that I was protecting you from further investigation. He will not be so easily drawn away this time, and now he may call my own motives into question.”
She raised her head, looking steadily into his eyes. “What will that do to you?”
“In the end? Nothing at all, for you are innocent, Margaret, and there is no way to cast blame on you. Until then…” his jaw worked thoughtfully. “Things will be very uncomfortable for both of us.
“A case so large has surely attracted a good deal of notice. The inspectors are motivated to find all the answers they can, as quickly as possible, and they have your signature on connected documents. It will most certainly mean questions, and your good name might suffer. We ought to consider hiring an attorney, just to protect you. You don’t happen to know of someone you trust from your connections in London, do you?”
Margaret’s face grew hot. “I do,” she whispered. “Henry Lennox, my cousin’s brother-in-law.”
John studied her in that intense way which only he could. His perceptive gaze lingered on her flushed countenance, the downcast eyes, and he smiled gently. “Do I need to be jealous of this Mr Lennox?”
“No!” she yelped. “That is… Henry is a friend. I think… once perhaps… certainly once, he thought to be more, but… no, John.”
His eyes lit in sheer pleasure, and he worked his fingers more deeply into her upswept hair. He leaned close to her. “That is comforting,” he murmured against her lips. “I am in no condition to fight the man just now.”
She gave a little strangled laugh into his cheek, but it vanished into a worried sob. “John, what are we to do? We cannot marry now- I will not have you wrapped up in all of this!”
“And I refuse to abandon you, so we have quite the predicament, Love!”
“How long will all of this legal bother take? It cannot take more than a few weeks, surely.”
He frowned. “That all depends on how quickly they find other witnesses. Once they have, I doubt not that the inspectors will find their information more useful than yours, and you will be left in peace.”
“But there is still my name in the papers!” she reminded him. “Oh, what must my aunt be thinking? It is all so humiliating!”
“Anyone who knows you will immediately know the truth, Margaret. I do not care for anyone else’s opinion.”
She trembled, hot tears filling her eyes. “But we must care! It will affect how we are received everywhere we go!”
“The name in the paper,” he whispered in her ear, “was Margaret Hale. Margaret Thornton is the woman with whom I intend to spend my life… and may I simply note how satisfying it was to say that just now?”
She cupped his cheek, smiling tremulously. “It is not that simple, dearest John. We have to start over in a new city, and there I will not have the benefit of my previous good reputation. All that will follow me is my maiden name and its connection to this scandal, for that much always comes out.”
“You will not persuade me to delay our marriage, Margaret. This will all blow over in good time. Let us write to your attorney friend and find what advice he has. Would you prefer that I wrote?”
She shook her head. “No. I should do it. I owe him at least an explanation before… well, before he hears about you.”
His face softened in understanding. “I would ask to include a note of my own with your letter. Hamilton made some mention of this to me two days ago, before I knew what to e
xpect. I would like to know where his source is getting his information. Perhaps that will help your Mr Lennox. Will you write your letter now?”
She nodded, her mouth set into a determined line. “Good,” he twined another curl around his worshipful fingers, reveling in her softness even now.
He kissed her once more, deeply and sweetly, sharing with her all of the courage and solace which she constantly infused into his own heart. Margaret clasped him tightly, wishing they were somewhere- anywhere else, with their nuptials behind them so she could truly lose herself in his embrace. Had they not been hindered by his infirmities, it is possible that his honour as a gentleman would have been forfeit. Never had she responded to him with such heartfelt abandon, but alas, he knew his duty, and it was not to take advantage of her in her distress.
With nearly heroic exertion, he pressed her away. His voice shook somewhat as he began to excuse himself. “I will explain what we know to your father while you write your letter.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mason and the other men lost no time about their few remaining leads in Milton. Five hours later saw Mason returning to the Hale residence, alone. This time, to his satisfaction, there was no great guard dog snarling at anyone who came near. He found his quarry isolated and vulnerable, with only a suspicious and sullen maid to watch the door.
“Miss Hale,” Mason began, his tones respectful but firm. “We have a witness who claims you sought out an introduction to Mr Draper and did, in that very house, converse at length about this enterprise.”
She swallowed, remembering John’s careful coaching on how she might best respond. “That is true,” she answered simply.
“Oh, so you admit that you were there?” he allowed a faint note of brittleness in his voice. “Forgive me for my surprise, Miss Hale.”
She stared silently back, her dilated pupils the only symptom of her disturbance.
He sighed in exasperation and continued. “I would ask you to confirm the details, Miss Hale. Who introduced you to Mr and Mrs Draper?”
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