Page 67 of Beyond the Grave
"How do you know?" Marguerite whispered.
"The fight at the mausoleum, his interest in Estelle Pearson, some gossip…we joined the pieces together."
"No." Julia shook her head over and over. "Surely not.Andrew?"
Marguerite nodded.
"But he…he…" Julia slumped back on the sofa as if she'd been pushed, unconcerned that she was crushing her bustle. "He never breathed a word."
"You think he tells you everything?" Marguerite bit off. "He doesn't, you know."
"How long had Buchanan known?" Lincoln asked.
"I told him when I first discovered my state," Marguerite said. "But he…he refused to do anything about it."
"That sounds like Andrew," Julia said on a sigh.
"It was not his fault." Marguerite fired back. "Indeed, it was yours!"
"Mine?"
"His father gave Andrew's inheritance to you." Marguerite growled like a dog protecting her cubs. "Andrew had no money, no house, nothing. Of course he couldn't support a wife or family. It is grossly unfair!"
"He could have found work. He went to university, for goodness' sake. He's not an imbecile."
"It may be very well for schoolmasters' daughters to tread the boards at The Alhambra, but not for barons' sons!"
Julia's face flamed, her eyes flashed. "You foolish girl. If you think Andrew refused to marry you because he had no money, then I am sorry to inform you of your mistake. There was a stipulation in my husband's will that if Andrew marries, he receives a generous annuity from the estate."
Marguerite's mouth flopped open.
"Andrew knew that. So did Donald." Julia sat upright again and rose. "I've had quite enough grubbiness for one day. I no longer wish to be a part of this conversation."
"Stay," Lincoln said quietly. "You are the one who brought this to my attention and asked me to investigate. You'll remain to hear all the details."
She hesitated then sat again. I wasn't sure I would have been so acquiescent if Lincoln had spoken to me the way he spoke to her. It seemed most unlike her to put up with it. Perhaps she really did want to hear more grubby details, and her attempted storming out was for show only.
"Marguerite," Lincoln said, "did your husband know the baby wasn't his?"
"Yes, but not until after the birth." All the fire she'd displayed in her defense of Buchanan had gone out of her and she was once more a pale, forlorn figure. "It was obvious that Hector was full-term, and I admitted everything. He was angry, at first, but then he realized we hadn't even begun courting when Andrew and I…when it happened. Our marriage was a hasty one, you see, at my request. We'd known one another for some time, of course, and he had asked to court me but I'd always refused. When I acquiesced, we married almost immediately."
It aligned with what Estelle Pearson had told us so it must be the truth. However I wondered if Marguerite really knew her husband's thoughts on the matter. How many men would be so understanding upon discovering their younger brother had fathered their wife's child? And did he know that his wife still held a torch for Andrew?
"I think this throws water over your theory that Andrew was at Emberly recently," Julia said. "If he has known about the baby for years, why stir up old wounds now?"
I looked to Lincoln as a small frown connected his brows. "Unless his visit had nothing to do with the baby, after all," I said.
"You must be mistaken," Marguerite said with an unladylike sniff. "Andrew wasn't there, fighting with anyone on my baby's grave. Either it was someone else or John got confused. It happens, from time to time."
The double doors suddenly burst open and Lord Harcourt strode in, looking like thunder. "Fitzroy," he barked.
Lincoln stood and met him in between the two sofas. He held his arms casually at his side, whereas Harcourt's fists pumped. "I'm glad you're here," Lincoln said. "I have questions for you."
Marguerite rose and took her husband's arm, pinning herself to his side. Her bottom lip was thrust so far forward in a pout that it looked as if a bee had stung it. "Darling, he's been asking questions about Hector again. And…and about Andrew."
"Out!" Harcourt exploded. "Get out!" Then he did a very foolish thing. He stepped up to Lincoln and swung his fist.
Chapter 12
