“Turner was a’cleanin’ out the lady’s personal papers, found a letter of some sort, and come out in a temper, yelled at us to finish up and close the house.Nan said it was too late for travel.Mr.Cooper said give the brats candy and let them sleep in the buggy.That was maybe middle of the afternoon cause it weren’t dark yet.”
The letter Willa had sent, no doubt, saying she’d take “them.”Cooper hadn’t known of Willa’s existence until then.
“But Nan was looking after herself, like you said, right?”No wonder the children had been terrified, Rafe thought.Monsters surrounded them.
Elton looked for a way to deny it but finally nodded.“She took the coins Turner gave her and told me she knew someone who would pay to take the brats.She figured the buggy and horse would sell too.Turner didn't seem to care what happened to them.Warn’t none of my business what she did.”
Hiding his rage, Rafe studied his notes.“So, on Saturday, the funeral was held, Cooper ordered the house closed up, and after reading a letter, rode off.He simply left you with the valuables in the cart, and Nanny Smith with the children and the buggy.Nanny left late in the afternoon with the children.What did you do then?”
Elton shrugged.“I loaded the cart, as told, fixed myself a bite, and enjoyed the evening with the brandy nobody said nothing about.Nanny took the horse, so I didn’t have none for the cart.I waited to see what happened.”
“And what happened?”
“Turner didn’t come back.Nobody did, until a lawyer fella turned up a few days later with a lady and gent.I hid and listened and heard about Nan dying and thought mebbe I could learn who she meant to sell the childern to.So I cleaned up and presented myself to the lawyers.”
By way of what silver could be carried in his pockets, Rafe surmised.
But the real crime here, if Elton were to be believed...Cooper had almost murdered the children as well as the nanny with opium pills.And if Daphne were to be believed, he’d smothered their mother as well.
Rafe was feeling a bit murderous himself.
NEW YEAR’S EVE
December 31, 1815
Thirty-eight
Verity
Sunday,New Year’s Eve, Verity smoothed the lovely silver-blue silk gown that Rafe had given her for Christmas.It went beautifully with one of the Kashmir shawls from her mother’s trunk.She fingered the pearls at her throat for good luck, praying her parents watched over her.She was hoping for a miracle, here in Gravesyde, where anything seemed possible.
They weren’t attending a party to welcome the new year—although the children were bouncing in excitement as if they were.They loved the attention.
Lavender hadn’t been able to tailor Rafe’s frockcoat, but at Verity’s request, she had taken his measurements from his dress uniform and sent them to a tailor Damien had recommended.Rafe had been shocked when he’d opened the elegant gift, but he wore the dark green superfine proudly now.It went well with his red hair.Her husband was a magnificent gentleman.She could never find one finer.
Armored for battle, they followed Minerva and Paul into the manor’s library where all the officials had gathered.Apparently solicitors did not observe the holy days or even New Year’s Eve.
Verity had hoped to meet the Bartletts, the orphans’ only remaining maternal family in England, but Bee and Boo were apparently elderly and unable to travel the distance.They’d never met the children and had only stepped in when they heard rumors that injustice had been done to the family name.
Swallowing nervously, Verity worried about the solicitors’ disregard to their families, but she supposed the viscount’s estate paid well.And Captain Huntley had been rather forceful in his demands, now that they finally had reliable evidence.
After Damien rode to Stratford and showed the marriage documents from the recipe book to Mr.Browning, the lawyers had searched Beanblossom.Once they’d found the leather notebook with original documents and the late Honorable Major Thomas Turner’s letters, right where the children had said, Browning’s firm had backed Hunt in demanding a meeting with Chatham’s solicitors.
Verity touched Daphne and Daniel on their shoulders.Dressed in their finest, their hair neatly trimmed so they resembled blond angels, they seemed more interested in the manor’s recently-installed gaslight and the bonging floor clock than anxious about the proceedings.“You are to make your bow and curtsy, then go with Brydie, understood?”
“Will our cousin be there?”Daniel turned his gorgeous, deep blue eyes to them.
“He should be.”The former—or was that the false?— Lord Chatham had thrown the mother of all tantrums after being confronted with the facts.That he’d turned his rage on Cooper and not the children spoke well of him, Verity prayed.
Rafe had not been able to pry a word out of Willa’s killer.They’d had to patch together his treachery by interviewing everyone Geoffrey Cooper—he did not have a legal right to the name Turner—had bamboozled.Major Turner’s letters to his wife had also been revealing.He hadn’t trusted his impoverished cousin, Laurence, or his illegitimate cousin, Cooper, which was why he’d tucked his family out of harm’s way.
They’d learned that Geoffrey Cooper was Laurence Turner’s half-brother, a by-blow of his father.After Major Turner’s death at Waterloo, followed by the death of the old viscount, Cooper had presumably hoped to ride his half-brother’s coattails to title and wealth.
Verity squeezed Rafe’s arm for comfort as they entered the enormous library.Solicitors stood at their arrival.Laurence Turner, formerly known as Lord Chatham, prodded by his new solicitor, reluctantly rose from his sprawl in a wing chair.Fair-haired, not overly tall, and well-dressed, Turner bore a vague resemblance to his cousin’s offspring, although his eyes were a washed out blue.
The children behaved graciously upon being introduced to this unknown relation, staring only a little as they curtsied and bowed.Neither of them shrieked in fear or even cried out in recognition, which was a relief.Not realizing how tense she’d been until Brydie led them away, Verity nearly melted into the chair Rafe pulled out for her.He squeezed her bare shoulder reassuringly.
Even though Verity knew they debated their future, the lawyer talk passed over her head.She studied the pouting, rather young Mr.Turner who returned to sprawling in a side chair, already dismissed as no longer relevant to the discussion.She compared him to Hunt’s friend, the dowager’s stepson, the Marquess of Spalding.Older and more elegant, the marquess was slender and blond, too, but muscles instead of padding filled out his coat shoulders.
