Page 73 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
His grandmother was insane. He had long concluded that, but he wondered if the various treatments–infusions, bloodletting, isolation, purging, and even exorcism–would change her.
Noah had no idea what he felt for the woman now, was it still anger or now pity? She had lived a long unhappy life with no speck of light in it. But why did she have to resort to casting her pain on others?
“Noah?” His mother’s inquiring voice came through the open doorway, “Are you well, Son?”
Briefly, Noah considered lying but then resorted to the truth, “No, Mother, I’m not.” Spinning the book towards her, he gestured for her to sit. “I found this in Grandmother’s quarters. We need to do something about her madness, Mother.”
The lady sat and took up the book, read over a few lines before skipping a few pages and reading those. The placid look in his mother’s face confused Noah, but he kept his concern to himself until she placed the book down.
“Bizarre imaginations, Noah,” The Duchess replied. “This is only her way of dealing with the hate inside her. Nothing more.”
Noah was flabbergasted and took a long moment to recover from his mother’s words. “Imaginations? Mother, the woman is insane. She planned to have your daughter killed, doesn’t that affect you? She arranged for my Emmeline to get courted by other men, even married off. See sense, Mother.”
“We do not know why Victoria’s carriage was found so far,” the Duchess replied with a tightness around her eyes and mouth that spoke of her grief for her dead child, “And of Lady Emmeline, was she courted by any other?”
“No,” Noah admitted.
“Was she married to anyone?” his mother pressed.
“No,” The Duke replied through a stiff jaw, “But it says here that some were paid to do so and–”
“But none did,” the Duchess replied, while standing up, “Son, the truth is subjective as to what we all perceive it to be, even while other factors disagree with it. The truth can be that the Dowager Duchess, a wizened old woman with more delusions than most, could be the author behind many gruesome tales. But then, the truth could be that these deaths were just the decrees of fate and she just conjured them up to fit her animosity. I know which one I choose. Please find yours.”
With those parting words, the Duchess left and Noah stared at the softly-closed door in incredulity. His mother had just outrightly dismissed the proof right in front of her. He thought his mother had much more sense than this, so how was his grandmother getting to her so deeply?
* * *
A day later, while Noah’s eyes and a part if his mind were trained on the paperwork before him, he listened with one ear to his mother, who was explaining that since she had noted the Dowager Duchess’ improvement with the carriage ride, she had arranged for them to attend an opera that evening.
“Since London is a few hours away, we will be leaving out in the next hour.” The Duchess said jauntily.
Noah only nodded.
A soft huff came from the older woman, “Noah, are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, Mother and I wish you all the best in London,” Noah’s reply was stoic as he added his signature to the receipt before him. The Duke felt her eyes on him but in his state of mind, he didn’t allow it to bother him much. “Goodbye, Mother.”
He steadily worked through the reports of growing productivity and an increase in tenant payments and realized that the sudden increase could afford him to pay off the Crown sooner than he thought. Noah was refilling his glass of wine when a rush of sound was at his door.
“Sir!” Mr. Cole’s voice was stringent, “You cannot enter His Grace’s abode without–”
“War is upon us!” Mr. Brown’s voice shouted, “Leverton’s is coming with arms.”
Noah’s glass shattered at his feet as he ran to yank the door open. There he saw his administrator struggling against his butler’s hold. “Release him, Cole!”
Instantly, Mr. Brown was let go and Noah took no pleasure in seeing the frantic look in the man’s eyes. “What is this about war, Brown?”
“Your Grace,” Mr. Brown’s face was grim, “Leverton is coming. A contact of mine in the Leverton dukedom hastened to tell me this morning. He says Leverton is blamingyoufor his sister’s death. He’s even saying that the money for the assassin came from your account.”
Noah’s face tightened, “That is insane! I had nothing to do with it!”
“Nevertheless, Your Grace, he is coming.” Mr. Brown said tightly. “What should I do, Your Grace? Should I assemble a party?”
“Yes, but put them on alert,” Noah replied, “But I will sort this out. Thank you for your quick work, Mr. Brown.”
Closing the door, Noah yanked his drawer open and took out the one envelope he hadn’t opened–his–and when he read over it, his chest went tight; a thousand-odd pounds had been taken from his account. To anyone with a suspicious mind like Leverton, that would look like payment to a murderer but the fact was, he hadn’t drawn that money.
The question was, who had?
