The crowd of villagers were brought into the large dining room, making it fuller than it had been since the late Duke’s time. The Magistrate had been among the searchers, which relieved anyone of the need to send for him.
Darrius was seated to one side of his usual large chair, making room for the magistrate. His hands were still shackled. Mr. Bruce sat beside him.
The Duchess had tottered down from her room, leaning on Mr. Wilson’s arm. Lord and Lady Carletane followed her, having shown up while Evelyn was out. Blanche trailed behind them.
Evelyn had shed her oilskins, but still wore her muddy boots. Self-consciously, she shook her skirts out over them as she sat by the Duchess’ side. Mayson was seated on her other side, now clad in a robe and wrapped in a comforter with a hot brick at his feet. Mr. Wilson had brought in a stack of handkerchiefs and a small basket. These things now sat in front of him, along with a pitcher and a glass of water.
The magistrate was also equipped with a pitcher and glass. He was just pouring some, when a loud voice came from the hall, “What is this outrage! I protest. I am a law-abiding citizen.”
Mr. Smith appeared, escorting Leroy Rutley into the room. Rutley stopped in the doorway, and his mouth fell open. “You! What are you doing here?” he bellowed. “I thought you took off for the Gold Coast or some other foreign parts. Or that you really were dead.”
“Was that what you thought, Uncle?” Mayson said in a hoarse voice. “Certainly, you found enough subtle ways to make my death possible. From the school where you sent me, to the sautéed mushrooms. It was only my good fortune that I knowClitocybe rivulosafromMarasmius oreades. Foraging was one of the classes at that accursed school. There, you learned, or died. Did you know that, Uncle?”
“So, what, then? You were supposed to learn from it, toughen up. You made it through the war, came home, and you just took off. Left me with the estate to run, and only a few coppers in the house-keeping chest. I could not draw any money, for I was immediately under suspicion for murder. Do you know what it is like to run an estate largely on credit?”
Mayson jerked as if he had been struck, and his face set in anger. “And the mushrooms?”
“What mushrooms? Served when? We had them regularly, sent up from the gardens.” Leroy glowered at Mayson. “Anybody could have slipped a few of the wrong ones in.”
“Now, what I want to know,” Constable Morris put in, “Is how His Grace fits into all this.”
“Deviled if I know,” Leroy said belligerently.
“Mind your language,” the magistrate said mildly. “Your Grace, would you care to tell us?
“It was the advertisement in the handbill,” Darrius said. “News of Mayson Rutley, dead or alive. Mr. Bruce brought it to me, and he seemed to think that the condition of Mr. Mayson Rutley would be a matter of indifference to the person receiving him. Moreover, I felt that anyone living here under false pretenses must be up to no good.”
“What do you have to say about this, Mr. Leroy Rutley?” The magistrate asked.
“I printed up the handbills because I needed some kind of proof Mayson was dead. Or I needed him to come home and get on with the business of running Hillsworth. It certainly would not hurt to be reimbursed for the money I spent out of my personal fortune to keep it going. But I never meant for him to be harmed if he was actually found alive.”
“I see,” said the magistrate, skepticism coloring his voice. “I will ask a solicitor to go over your records. I trust you did keep records? We shall reconvene at a later date to consider these particulars. Now, then, Mr. Mayson Rutley, while it would seem that your uncle recognizes you, there is the small matter of proving your identity. Do you, indeed, have the crescent moon birthmark?”
Wordlessly, Mayson peeled off the thin leather gloves he wore at all times, revealing the red birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon.
“Very well,” said the magistrate. “A formal investiture will have to take place, but I believe we have established that you are Mayson Rutley, the missing heir. However, we have one small thing to take into account. Your Grace, did you order the series of misadventures that plagued Mr. Mayson Rutley?”
“I… yes, Your Worship. But none of them were intended to cause permanent harm. I meant to simply take him to Lord Hillsworth, that is, Mr. Leroy Rutley. I had no reason to think that he meant him harm.”
“Was that your only motivation?”
“I, uh, no, Your Worship. I was attracted to Mrs. Swinton, and had hopes of finding favor with her. The cook was becoming something of a rival.”
“It was not your intention, then, to set fire to his bed?”
“No! That could have harmed my mother and all her servants. I requested no such thing.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Bruce spoke out of turn. “Deny it all. Throw the flunky on the mercy of the court.”
“Why exactly did you cause injury to Mr. Rutley, Mr. Bruce?”
“The Duke told me to scare him. To make him go away, and most of all to make him stop sniffing around Mrs. Swinton. He said to do it in a way that he could be identified, an’ declared dead, or at least run out of the country, so’s we could get the reward. When that didn’t work, he said we would grab him out of his bedroom, and trade him for the reward.”
“Reward?” Mayson started to laugh, then broke into a burst of coughing. “There should have been quite a few coppers in the housekeeping account. I made sure of it by leaving my allowance behind. There would have been a quarterly allowance for running the estate. But clearly it was seriously mismanaged, because Uncle Leroy is so lacking in funds, he has been selling snakes to that naturalist fellow, Mr. Petersen. So it is highly unlikely that there was any money to pay a reward. When I learned how the estate was being mismanaged, I went to the magistrate to begin the process of showing that I am very much alive and reclaiming my inheritance, whatever might be left of it. The accidents began after that.”
“So what happened to turning him over to his uncle? Why did you not just tell Leroy Rutley about his nephew?”
Darrius closed his mouth, and looked sullen.
