Page 79 of The Heir
When I was at last able to close my surgery, I went to my brother Julius’s house. I spoke with him and my mother together. I said I wished to see Father’s papers, his case notes and journals and the like. I said I wished to review these things to satisfy my own mind on some points that his death had recently returned to the front of my memory.
I attempted to speak lightly, to pass it off as agitation brought on by grief, and as something that could be quickly alleviated. I am not sure how well I succeeded. After all, they already knew I was bitterly angry over the treatment of Father in death and the haste and silence surrounding his burial.
But it transpired that I could have spared myself the effort. Upon my mother’s signal, my brother Julius informed me that all my father’s personal papers had already been burnt.
Jane pressed her hand over her mouth to stop her exclamation. Victoria clenched the edges of the letter, wrinkling the paper.
“Why would they . . . ?”
I demanded to know why they would do such a thing. Again, they spoke of the promised pension and of the necessity for “all our sakes” that the family reputation be preserved. Julius spoke firmly for several minutes about how any controversy could damage my practice and Marcus’s, as well as his own. Therefore, he had no choice.
“I don’t believe it,” muttered the princess. “About the reputations. It is about this money, the pension they were promised. It must be.”
“That depends what they were afraid those papers said,” breathed Jane.
Victoria frowned.
I left feeling depressed and angry, but also uneasy. Unease turned to suspicion with uncomfortable speed. So, taking a great chance, I waited near to the house until I saw that same footman I had spoken to before leave on an errand for my mother. I took him up into my closed carriage, and I quizzed him about the fate of my father’s papers.
Jane realized she had stopped breathing.
He said that it was true they had been burnt. That my mother and Julius had seen to the matter personally. But, he said, he had been called in to help, as there were a great many boxes and files to be dealt with, including some that had to be brought down from the attic. As a result, he was able to overhear some of what passed between Mother and Julius.
They were, he said, particularly agitated about the manuscript of my father’s memoir, and as they emptied each drawer and box into the fire, they were constantly asking each other, “Did you get it all?” and “Are you sure there’s nothing more?” and “Could there have been a fair copy made?” and other such questions. He said that their depredations extended to Father’s case books and appointment books, going back some years.
Remembering your questions when we met, I asked him about the gentleman who came to the house to inform Mother and Julius about the pension. He said the gentleman left no card, and he was unable to hear the name. He did, however, give a description of a tall man with military bearing, dark, curling hair, and bright blue eyes.
“Sir John,” said the princess.
At the same time Jane said, “Father.” Of course it would be. Father had gotten the gardeners to fetch the cart. He would naturally have gone with them to make sure their burden reached its destination and so he could speak with the Matons immediately.
“We knew he had something to hide,” said the princess. “Oh! I could scream.”
“Well, it’s over now,” said Jane. She was disappointed, which shocked her. She should have been relieved. “Whatever there was to find, the Matons must have destroyed it.” Jane looked over her shoulder toward the clock tower. “We should be getting back. They’ll be calling you in soon.”
“You don’t believe we should keep asking questions,” said the princess.
“I don’t believe we can find proof of anything wrong,” Jane said flatly. “And without proof, we’re just two silly little girls playing an absurd game.”
The princess wanted to be angry, Jane could tell. But she couldn’t quite muster a retort.
At last, the princess sighed. “You’re right, Jane. We should get back.” But even as she said this, she set her jaw, and Jane knew she was not ready to stop.
And as she trailed behind the princess, Jane found, oddly, that she had begun to smile.
Chapter 35
“Ah, there you are at last, Sir John.”
Victoire was so attuned to the man’s presence, she did not even need to look up to know it was him. She could tell by the rustle of his coattails and the soft fall of his footstep against the carpet.
“I was not aware I had kept you waiting, ma’am.” She heard the smile in his voice. He was humoring her.
She was in no mood to be humored.
“You are so often absent these days.” She kept her attention on her letters, sorting them into piles according to how urgently they needed to be answered. “I almost think you are avoiding me.”
“You know how busy matters are at present.” There it was, that first touch of impatience. She was not responding to his presence with proper warmth and gratitude. He was very sensitive to that. “Our departure date is scarcely a fortnight away.” He paused. Perhaps he looked around the room or glanced at the clock. “Is Victoria on her walk? Who is with her?”
