Brendan unfolded the survey map again, showing the original property lines between the Earl of Morwick’s holdings and those of Baron Pendleton, later, Viscount Pendleton. The map he held was dated over two hundred years before the birth of Reggie and had doubtless been lost to time. In an ironic twist, Baron Pendleton had been the nephew of the Earl of Morwick. Brendan and Simon wereverydistantly related.
At some point over the last two centuries, the property lines between the two estates had become blurred. The map he held had been filed away, and new surveys drawn. No one seemed to notice that Pendleton’s property now extended several acres further into Morwick’s. The land was desolate and good for very little. The rich deposits of lead, copper and other minerals were much farther to the western portions of both estates. No one would have cared if the property line blurred between the two as the land wasn’t valuable.
Until it was.
Reggie, jealous of his neighbor’s good fortune and puzzled by the presence of a vein of Blue John so close to his own property, must have done some digging, literally. He would have taken samples. Walked the property line. Surveyed. The third largest deposit of Blue John in England was a very big deal. At some point, Reggie probably started searching the library for any record of the mineral on his estate. He would have pored through dusty boxes of old receipts, letters and building plans. It’s what Brendan would have done. Reggie had probably found the original survey by accident.
His mistake had been in confronting his neighbor and friend with the information.
Brendan wondered how Pendleton had lured Reggie out to that specific outcropping. He thought about his father, dying below the earth in a tiny cave, knowing his wife would never find him and he’d never meet his son.
At least now Brendan knew why Simon’s father had encouraged him to court Katherine. Insurance in case Reggie was ever found.
Brendan held tightly to the neck of the bottle of scotch he’d pilfered from Simon’s study. He hadn’t even debated about doing so. The scotch had likely been purchased with proceeds from the Blue John which rightfully belonged to the Earl of Morwick. Simon and Lady Pendleton had known Reggie was murdered and why based on what Petra had overheard. Brendan could even imagine Simon’s mother hatching the scheme herself.
Brendan took another mouthful of scotch. Before he left Brushbriar on the morrow, Brendan intended to have a very lengthy discussion with Simon, one that involved murder and Blue John.
* * *
“How didyou spend your day, dearest?” Mother, seated on her left at dinner, said to her in a low tone. “After our discussion at breakfast I grew concerned when I couldn’t find you for tea.” Her plump form shifted in the deep lavender silk as her lips tilted in welcome to her daughter. Mother’s eyes were a touch too bright, as if she were struggling to maintain her decorum.
“Your concern overwhelms me, Mother.” Petra briefly looked her mother in the eye. “I do hope I didn’t cause you any worry.” She spoke politely, but without feeling.
“Petra.” Mother’s hand reached out followed by a small sob as Petra flinched from her touch.
After leaving Brendan on the outcropping of gritstone, Petra had started for Brushbriar. She found herself running partway when the rain began to come down in torrents. Gasping for breath and soaked to the skin, she had made her way to the servants entrance, startling one of the kitchen maids in the process. Petra calmly explained she’d gone for a walk, gotten lost and fell, all the while assuring the girl she was fine. Tessie, bless her, knew better than to ask many questions. She took one look at Petra and ordered a hot bath.
“I am concerned, Petra. You’ve barely eaten.” Mother tried again.
“Do I eat the potatoes,” Petra flicked at a portion of potato in a cream sauce, “or do I not? I’m afraid I can’t choose. You know best, Mother. Do I like potatoes?”
It was immensely gratifying to see her mother’s cheeks redden in an unbecoming way.
“Petra.” Her mother tried to take Petra’s hand beneath the table. “Please cease this behavior. I don’t wish us to be at odds.”
Petra wrenched her hand away and proceeded to ignore any further attempts on the part of her mother to engage her in conversation. Mother had quite a lot to answer for. Rowan had resorted to issuing his mother an ultimatum. Petra didn’t think she’d have to do that. If things went as Petra hoped they would, Mother would decline to speak to Petra again.
At the moment, such a thing sounded blissful.
Brendan had not come down for dinner, nor had she seen him since their discovery earlier in the day. Somehow, she’d expected that. Petra was still angry with him.
Lady Cupps-Foster sat directly across from her, laughing quietly at something Lord Haddon said to her. Haddon was flirting shamelessly with the older widow, and Lady Cupps-Foster was blushing in pleasure. It was obvious from her gaiety Brendan had not yet told his mother of the discovery of the former Earl of Morwick’s remains. She thought him right to wait until Lady Cupps-Foster was back at Somerton. The news would certainly devastate her.
Lady Pendleton sat with her toothy smile in place at one end of the table, hanging on Simon’s every word as he related a dinner party he’d attended while in London. The prime minister, Viscount Melbourne, had been a guest. Katherine was engrossed in a conversation with Mr. Ulster, a wealthy merchant who’d come for the dancing and stayed, ensnared in Katherine’s seductive web.
Petra ate little and spoke not at all. It was a relief when dinner ended.
After dinner, the gentlemen went to have their cigars and brandy while the ladies retired to the garish drawing room. It was difficult for Petra to sit calmly amongst so much Blue John, knowing now how the Pendletons had come to have it. But settling the score with the Pendletons belonged to Brendan and his mother. For her part, Petra wanted to ensure she would not marry Simon, nor anyone not of herownchoosing.
She’d given much thought to her situation and how best she could avoid becoming part of this deceitful family. There was only one way to ensure Simon would jilt her and break the betrothal. A solution which would also guarantee Mother would absent herself from Petra’s life. It was rather simple, and Petra couldn’t believe such a thing hadn’t occurred to her before now. Perhaps the girl she’d been wouldn’t have considered such a thing, but old Petra had been foolish and docile.
After an hour, Petra excused herself, pleading a headache. Mother shot her a look of disapproval, the tiny hill forming above her top lip, but wisely didn’t press Petra into staying.
Mother would be so much more displeased tomorrow.
Luckily, Tessie had taken a liking to one of the Brushbriar grooms. It was an easy thing to encourage the maid to go to the object of her affection after Petra had readied for bed, especially since Petra swore no one, especially Lady Marsh, would ever find out.
Hands shaking, she discarded the plain, cotton nightgown for the small tissue-wrapped package at the bottom of her trunk. Another parting gift from Arabella who’d noted Simon’s lack of passion. Of course, Arabella had no idea Simon would never see this particular nightgown.
