Page 62 of The Secret Word
“My apologies, Mrs. Satterthwaite, and those of my men,” said the constable, ignoring Wright. His glance at the assortment of servants protecting the children was almost fond. “If any of you belong in the stables, perhaps you can help us fetch our horses.”
It was over, then, though Wright didn’t accept it, and continued to rant, at the constables, his solicitor, the magistrate, his daughter, Chris, the school boys. Clem ignored him, and Chris followed her lead. Eventually, her father left, taking his solicitor with him. Also, the wet nurse he had brought, who had apparently been sitting in the carriage the whole time.
Clem thanked the schoolboys and went upstairs to feed the children, returning half an hour later to join Chris, Billy, and Tiny for a nuncheon in the dining room. Billy’s other men were being fed in the servants’ hall.
By then, Chris had gathered that Martha had taken the children to the school, hidden them in the attic, and asked the boys to run interference.
“It would have worked, too, if Will had not started crying while the constables were searching the school,” Clem told them. “Martha and the nursemaids ran again, before the constablescould find the entrance to the attics, and were making for our attics when the constables caught up with them. Fortunately, Billy’s men were here by then.”
“Martha delayed them long enough for Billy’s men to arrive,” Chris realized aloud. “She saved Will.” He would never doubt her loyalty again.
Billy shook his head. “It isn’t over. Wright has withdrawn for the moment, but he has not given up.”
“Mr. O’Hara is right,” Clem said, her voice soft but firm. “The secret of Father’s success is that he never accepts defeat. He never gives up. He will find another magistrate, or think of some other way, but he will not stop trying.” She was oddly calm, but Chris, knowing her so well, could see that she was holding herself together with the last of her strength. Chris understood. He had not been here for the crisis, but he still felt an urge to find a corner and howl. Or, better still, find Wright and beat him to a pulp.
“Then we have to find a way to stop him,” Billy said, adding darkly, “One way or another.”
“Mr. O’Hara,” said Clem. “You cannotkillmy father.”
The corner of Billy’s mouth quirked up and his eyes regarded Clem with unmistakable fondness. “The lady who taught me grammar would say…”
Clem was clearly in no mood to debate the difference in meaning between “can” and “may”. “Youwillnot kill my father,” she said.
“We could disappear him,” Tiny offered.
Billy nodded, and explained, “He would not be the first person Tiny and I have known who suddenly took an unexpected and involuntary boat trip to the antipodes.”
Chris could see that Clem was considering it. “Let us keep that as an option, but I would prefer to stop the threat to Will while keeping Wright at the helm of his businesses. I still havea lot to learn before I can run them on Will’s behalf. Although perhaps after today, your father will leave them elsewhere.”
That fetched a snort of disbelief from his wife. “Father’s mind is made up,” she said. “He has decided to leave everything to Will. That’s what he will do. He has decided that we are unfit to raise Will. How do we stop him? For he will not change his mind.”
Unless they could prove him unfit to raise their boy. “We need to counter each of the claims he made to prove us unfit,” Chris said. “Then, if we can, we need to find something that disqualifies him.”
“You mean,” said his wife, “apart from being a selfish, mean, old blowhard.”
“None of which are illegal,” Billy said, standing. “And all of which are forgiven in the rich. Tiny, collect the men. We need to get back to town. Christopher, Mrs. Satterthwaite, I will be in touch. Look after those babies.”
*
Father’s next movearrived before evening that same day. “Sir,” said the footman who did double-duty as butler, “You have a messenger from Mr. Wright who insists he must speak to you.”
Clem, who had been feeling utterly relaxed after a lovely afternoon interlude with her husband, felt all her worries crash back in around her. Chris covered her hand with his own and gave her a reassuring smile. “Show him in, please,” he said to the footman.
The messenger was one of Father’s clerks, looking highly uncomfortable. He handed Chris a letter, and stood, shuffling his feet, while Chris read it. Chris passed the letter to Clem and waited while she read it.
In essence, along with threats and complaints, the letter said that Father was dismissing Chris, and wanted him to give the messenger all material Chris held that pertained to his business.
“It is late,” Clem said. “Shall we give poor Mr. Samuels a bed for the night and send him off in the morning?”
“Why not?” Chris commented. “It is not his fault that your father is throwing a tantrum.”
Chris spoke to the clerk while Clem went to the door to send for the housekeeper. “I will pack up the papers Mr. Wright wants, and you can return for them in the morning. Did he send you in a carriage, Samuels?”
“On a horse, sir. It is outside.”
Chris sighed. “My stable will look after the beast, and in the morning, we shall see about some transportation for the boxes of papers.”
“If you go with my housekeeper, Mr. Samuels,” Clem said, “she will see you settled.” She went to Chris as soon as the door shut behind the housekeeper and the clerk. “He is cutting off his nose to spite his face,” she said.
