Chapter Thirteen

In Which Nefarious Schemes are Finally Thwarted, and Forest Grange Welcomes Christmas Guests

“Well, since it appears we have concluded the meal, I’d like to ask if you, Mr Blackstone, would join me in my study for a few moments? I believe Sir Duncan and Mr Hawkesbury should be present as well.”

Blackstone looked puzzled at the Viscount’s invitation for a moment, but quickly recovered his countenance. “Of course, my Lord. I confess myself surprised at the inclusion of Mr Hawkesbury, but I will not cavil at his presence.”

The gentlemen rose, and Richard shot a quick glance at Lord Hawthorn. The brief nod was enough to let him know that he should bring the document with him.

He nodded back, and hurried to collect it, returning in moments with it rolled and under his arm, to find Ferguson ready to escort him in.

The other men were settling themselves; apparently there had been some discussion of the state of the roads, the depth of the snow, and all the other weather-related matters that are an intrinsic part of every Englishman’s discourse.

He quietly took an empty chair next to Sir Duncan, who was at his ease in his seat near the fire, and stood the roll on its end beside him on the floor.

“Right then, gentlemen.” Lord Hawthorn remained standing by the hearth, his arm resting along the thick mantel. “We have some matters to discuss that pertain to us all, in varying ways.”

His gaze drifted to Blackstone. “You, sir, are the principal instigator of this conversation.”

Blackstone blinked, then raised his chin. “You would be referring, of course, to my interests in the River Ban.”

“Yes. It is indeed those interests that have spurred a variety of enquiries and discussions.”

Blackstone frowned. “Enquiries? I know of no enquiries, my Lord. I believe I showed both you and Sir Duncan all the relevant documents. There was no need for further enquiry as far as I can see…”

“In that case, you need spectacles, sir,” snapped Sir Duncan. “Neither the Viscount nor myself is willing to put a signature to such a project as you are suggesting without a thorough review of the entire situation.” He spoke firmly and forcefully. “Which both our host and I requested. Before your arrival, as it happens.”

“My Lord,” Blackstone turned to the Viscount, his brows drawn together in a fierce scowl. “This is preposterous. All these matters were formally presented to Sir Duncan, and most recently to yourself. I am shocked beyond measure that you would question or seek further verification of the facts I have lain before you both.” His barely controlled temper revealed itself when he clenched his fists on his knees and glared at Lord Hawthorn, then at Sir Duncan. “I would hope that ill-health has not clouded or influenced any of these decisions…”

Richard cleared his throat before the Viscount could leap to his friend’s defence. “Perhaps it would clarify matters if I formally introduced myself, sir.” He kept his expression blank as he looked across the table at the other man. “I am a solicitor, currently employed by the firm of Durnford and Hutchins. Our firm was recently asked to produce a record of certain information relevant to the area including Forest Grange, Rosewood Park, and Myrtle Manor. The request came from Sir Duncan Aylmer, and…” he stood and strolled to a small side table, where he picked up a rolled paper, “here is the document that bears the most relevance to the matter, which I am now delivering to Sir Duncan, thus fulfilling the obligations of my employers.”

“What?” Blackstone leapt to his feet, fists clenched. “What ridiculous nonsense is this? You can’t possibly have…”

“He can’t possibly have what, Mr Blackstone?” Lord Hawthorn’s gaze was sharp enough to cut glass.

“He doesn’t…” Blackstone stopped, cleared his throat, and took a breath. “My apologies, gentlemen. I was quite naturally surprised to learn that this Mr Hawkesbury had anything to do with our mutual interests.”

He straightened, obviously fighting for control. “I had not thought that it was necessary to engage the services of a solicitor.” He glanced at Sir Duncan and caught himself up. “Although I’m sure it was a wise decision on your part, sir.”

“It was indeed,” answered Sir Duncan mildly. “I am a cautious man, Mr Blackstone. You don’t get to be my age without learning that almost nothing is what it seems on the surface. Especially a scheme requiring considerable financial outlay.”

Lord Hawthorn nodded. “Very wise.”

Blackthorne managed to collect himself, and Richard was just a tiny bit impressed, since it was clear to everyone in the room that his back was up against the wall. His word had been challenged, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Would you care to review this document, Mr Blackstone? After Sir Duncan has seen it, of course.”

“What? Oh, well, I suppose so…although I cannot believe it will pertain to anything…”

Richard passed the paper to Sir Duncan as Lord Trease came to stand behind the older man’s chair and lean over so that he could also see.

“Aha. There. I thought so…” The Viscount’s finger pointed to the River Ban. “Your assessments were incorrect, Blackstone. The position of the River Ban has no bearing on the property lines of Rosewood Park and Myrtle Manor.”

“That’s absurd,” blustered Blackstone, hurrying to Sir Duncan’s side. “Let me see that…”

In a quick but effective move, Lord Hawthorn slipped the paper out of Sir Duncan’s hands and took it to a table by the window. “Here. The light is better.”

Richard followed, and between them, they were able to keep Blackstone from actually touching the paper.

But they couldn’t keep his gaze from fixing on the notations, flickering over the entire page, and even pushing past the Viscount briefly to rub a corner. At which point, Richard blew a breath of relief that everything had dried thoroughly.

“This cannot be authentic,” scoffed Blackstone, moving away from the table. “It’s quite wrong.”

“Are you questioning my word, sir?” The Viscount stared steadily back at him, his gaze cold. “This paper clearly shows where the property markers are located, and that is proof that your claims to part of the River Ban as a public waterway are invalid. Which, if I am correct, confounds your scheme to turn the river into a canal.” He took a breath. “I can only hope your investors will understand the error you have made. But I’m sure when you return their funds, they will find it in their hearts to forgive you.”

A slightly muffled snort from Sir Duncan broke the silence that fell after the Viscount’s words.

“This is an outrageous forgery,” Blackstone stared at the paper.

“Now, whatever would make you think that, sir?” Richard’s voice betrayed a few hints of ice. “As a solicitor working on behalf of a client, I could easily take that accusation amiss.”

“I was assured there was only one copy of this map,” bit out Blackstone.

“And this would be it, then, wouldn’t it?” said Sir Duncan calmly.

“I…”

“Mr Blackstone,” Richard took a breath. “Perhaps you might be slightly confused. Especially in light of a report you may have heard concerning a recent act of violence in this area. I was the victim of that attack, set upon and robbed of most of my belongings.” He paused, but Blackstone’s face revealed nothing.

“However, I was most fortunate in that this document was not in the bag that was stolen. So this is, indeed, a faithful and official rendition of the property lines, and the position of the River Ban.”

Silence fell for a few moments, broken only by the crackle of the logs in the fireplace.

“I still think this is some sort of villainous scheme…” His furious gaze drifted over everyone in the room. “It is outrageous to imagine any of the things you are implying…”

Richard stopped him. “You would be well advised to go no further in your protestations, sir.” He reached into his pocket and removed something, keeping it concealed beneath his sleeve.

“Gentlemen, if you would observe…” he nodded at the other men. “Mr Blackstone is wearing a very fine pin in his cravat. I assume the letter “S” is for his first initial, and the decorative work around it seems unique.”

“It is my family crest, if you must know.” Blackstone’s chin lifted, and he gazed down his nose at Richard.

“Is it really…” he remarked. “Well, what an odd coincidence that is.”

All eyes were on his hand as he carefully put what he held down onto the table for everyone to see.

“If I’m not mistaken, Mr Blackstone, this…” he pointed at the engraving on the knife which gleamed in the sunlight, “is an exact match to your crest. Oh, and by the way? Those stains at the tip of the blade? My blood, sir. My blood.” He shook his head. “Your bully boys were quite dreadfully inept in their attempt to kill me and steal my papers. And using a weapon so easily tied to yourself? Carelessness beyond belief. I would suggest hiring more skilled assassins in the future should the occasion arise. Which, all things considered, I believe will be unlikely.”

The Viscount walked to the bell and rang it, at which point the door opened immediately and two burly footmen stepped in, accompanied by Ferguson.

“Mr Blackstone is leaving.” Lord Hawthorn’s voice was brutally cold. “Your carriage is waiting, sir, and anything you have left at Rosewood Park will be forwarded to you by Sir Duncan’s household staff. I suggest you return to London forthwith, before word of this unfortunate incident leaks to your business associates—which it inevitably will. In fact, I could safely predict that rumours will begin quite early in the new year, when Sir Duncan and I plan on travelling up together to take care of some legal matters. You have until then to attempt to redeem your reputation.”

Blackstone struggled, his mouth twitching with fury, his face reddening. “A pox on all of you,” he spat. “May each and every one of you fall in that damn river and rot.”

He strode from the room, pushing past the footmen, who turned immediately and followed him.

The three men left in the study heaved a collective sigh of relief, and as soon as the front door to Forest Grange banged shut behind Blackstone, the Viscount relaxed and grinned. “The blood was a nice touch, lad.”

Richard nodded. “In the interests of making a full confession about that, I had to nick my finger. Your servants had cleaned it too thoroughly, my Lord. But it worked.”

Sir Duncan beamed happily from the depths of his chair. “Well, it is my considered opinion that if ever there was a time for a brandy before lunch, this is it.”

There were no objections.

*~~*~~*

Holly, knowing that something big was going on since Richard and the rest of the men had disappeared, paced the corridors of Forest Grange, mumbling curses under her tongue. Most of them aimed at the cruel and unfair circumstances that led to her exclusion from whatever was happening in her father’s study.

However, a noise in the hall distracted her, and she turned her steps that way, only to be greeted by a shriek of joy.

“Holly,” shouted the young woman hurrying toward her. “Sweet girl. God, you’ve grown.”

“Cherry. I should’ve known it was you from the noise. And no, I haven’t grown. You’ve only been gone a little while, you nodcock.”

They stared at each other, burst into laughter, and then hugged and bounced happily together, an affectionate exchange that brought smiles to everyone in the hall.

“Garrett,” Holly let go of her sister and rushed to hug her brother-in-law. “Did you have a good journey? We were worried that you wouldn’t be able to make it for Christmas.”

“Darlings, you’re here.”

The noise in the hall rose to an acceptable hubbub as the Trease ladies welcomed the Duke of Belcaster, his wife, and several assorted servants.

Rooms had been prepared, of course, and so it wasn’t long before Holly found herself in a small sitting room, watching Cherry as she unpacked a little writing case.

“So tell me. Are you happy at Belcaster? Is Garrett a good husband? Do they have nice plants?” The last question was offered with a chuckle, since her sister’s passion was, and probably always would be, the magic of nature and the forest.

“Yes to all three,” replied Cherry, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Garrett is indeed the very best of husbands.”

Holly watched her sister’s expression, marvelling at the happiness that permeated not only her words, but the glow in her eyes. “So…” she paused. “Marriage is—is a good thing? You still do what you want? You can still pursue your own interests and not get overwhelmed by the duties of being a wife?”

Cherry took the chair next to Holly, and reached out for her sister’s hand, an expression of curiosity on her face. “That is an interesting question. I have to wonder what lies beneath it?”

“I—I’m just wondering, that’s all. With Ashe married now, and Florinda so happy to be expecting their baby, I was curious about the…the balance, I suppose, between the things we do as unmarried women, and the expectations that come with being a wife.”

“A valid question,” smiled Cherry. “You have an amazing ability to express your ideas so clearly, love. It’s always impressed me.”

Holly blinked. “Oh. Well, that’s nice to hear.”

“But in answer to your question? I would say that it pretty much all depends on the man you marry. I’m very lucky in that Garrett respects me, and it shows when he listens to my suggestions about Belcaster, or sits down with me and we discuss matters of importance to us both. And the fact that we love each other helps too, even when we don’t always agree…which does occasionally happen…” She laughed, a happy sound that warmed Holly’s heart.

“Why do you ask?”

“Um…” Biting her lip, Holly’s brain stumbled. “Oh, I don’t know, just one of those things that popped into my mind.”

“Hmm.” Cherry stared at her sister, but remained silent.

“We should join the others. I expect Mama is eagerly waiting to hear everything and tell you everything.” Holly rose.

“I’m sure she is. And we have some news that will probably make her Christmas extra special.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Oh, good God. You too ?” Holly threw herself on her sister and hugged her enthusiastically. “Another grandchild for Mama, and a nephew or niece for me?”

Cherry nodded. “Can’t let Ashe and Florinda steal all the thunder. But please keep it to yourself until we’ve told them.”

“Of course,” she answered. “I won’t say a thing. You know, this is certainly going to be a very exciting Christmas,” grinned Holly, as she headed toward the door. “Very exciting indeed.”

Her words were prophetic, since the two girls were descending the stairs when the door opened once more, admitting a lady bundled in a huge fur-trimmed cloak and a gentleman with his arm around her.

“Ashe,” shrieked the sisters in concert, rushing forward. “Florinda.”

More affectionate greetings were exchanged, and the lofty ceilings rang with laughter.

“At last ,” Lady Hazel rushed into the hall and did her best to hug everyone at once.

Ashe kissed his mother on the cheek. “Papa?”

“In the study. Probably drinking brandy by this time. I think it was a rather adventurous morning.”

He grinned. “Really? Then I should definitely be there. Take care of Florinda. I’ll go and say hello.”

Lady Hazel sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “Come along, girls. We’ll see if we can find ourselves a cup of tea and a good fire.”

“That, Mama Trease, sounds wonderful.” Florinda took a deep breath and unwrapped herself, revealing her ever-expanding figure. “Your grandchild, it would seem, has learned the cotillion, and was dancing it all the way here.”

Glancing around, Lady Hazel leaned close. “You’ll be needing a chamber pot before that tea, then…”

Florinda rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.”