Page 69 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
I have followed the instructions you have left about the man in London. We have tracked him down but there it was just like you said, there wasn’t much to it–this man isn’t our culprit but he did give me some advice. According to him, he was only paid a measly twenty-five pounds, the “witch Fitzroy” has many men at her disposal and if you follow the money you will–and I by extension–find the blackguard. I believe you will have the means and the motive to find out from your bank who had been paid and thus, you will have the answer.
Leverton
Noah knew he could find out without stepping a foot in London to get proof. As it was, most of the gentry just sent notices to the bank for pending purchases or transfers and the bank then took care of the transactions.
He took out a sheet of paper and wrote to the manager of the bank on Threadneedle Street. He needed to word his inquiry carefully as any specific mention of the Dowager Duchess, individually, would have sparked curiosity. Noah didn’t know the manager’s loyalty and if he tipped the Dowager Duchess off, his investigation would end prematurely.
Therefore, he asked the bank to send him a comprehensive inquiry, statements about his account, his mother’s, his grandmother’s, and his father’s estate–supposedly for him to update his personal records and to check the transactions.
He signed it, then sealed it with his ring, and then read the other letters he had received. The Duke of Kenton was congratulating him on making a profitable connection with Leverton, and he was advised on how the duchy was poised to excel by this partnership. Berkingshire’s letter, the trade proposal, was thick–three pages of fine print and Noah knew it had been drafted by his lawyer.
The contract outlined what they were going to trade with, how long they were going to trade, and there was a consideration about continuing or adjusting the deal after a significant level of profit was made. Noah felt pleasure in reading the proposal and happily signed and sealed it after adding a sheet of his own comments about some adjustments.
Suddenly, a loud crack split the air and the torrent of rain came rushing down. The heavy deluge pounded on the mansion’s roof, and the windows were instantly fogged. Then darkness encompassed the room from the thick cloud cover.
Jagged streaks of lightning flashed blue and blindingly white, carving through the dark sky. Noah felt the soft beats of his heart fall in tune with the roaring thunder. He didn’t hear the rapid knocks on his door because of the thunder rumbling but when he did, he yanked it open to see his frantic mother standing there with a bloodless face.
“Mother?” Noah asked with alarm, “What is–?”
“It’s Mother,” the Duchess rushed, “She has fainted and nothing I can d–”
Noah was out the door in a moment, taking the stairs two at a time, to run to his grandmother’s room. The Dowager Duchess was laying on her bed, as pale as the sheets under her, with her eyes closed and clenched tightly. He touched her forehead and grimaced. Her skin was clammy and her breathing was shallow.
Spinning on his heel, Noah ran back downstairs, “Cole, where is the closest physician?”
“In the village, Your Grace,” The butler replied, “His name is Mr. Barnes Hammond. He lives in a house trimmed with white on the third street.”
Not caring about the thick white rain, or the flashing blue lightning, Noah ran to the stables and grabbed his prancing horse. Staring into frightened dark eyes Noah hushed, “Calm boy, calm…we need to get help.”
Quickly saddling the horse, he rode out and took the road to the village. Thunder made the horse wild and the reins in Noah’s hands were slippery from the rain but he had to find a physician. Huge puddles of water were on the road, and the deluge was so thick he could barely see a few feet away from his nose, but he rode on, trusting his instincts and limited senses to guide him.
The village was near and Noah, soaked to the bone, searched diligently through the third street for the house with the white trimming. While searching, he cursed himself for not having a physician on the mansion’s grounds and swore to himself to not let the oversight go any further.
He found the house and jumped off the horse, ran up the wide stairs and banged on the doorway. He kept banging, hoping and praying that the man was at home and not away on calls.
“Please sto–Your Grace!” a woman instantly corrected herself mid-sentence. “My God, you’re drenched!”
“Good day, where is your husband, Mrs. Hammond?” Noah asked hurriedly, “Please get him, it’s urgent, and tell him to get his bag. I apologize for this intrusion.”
“I understand, Your Grace, just a moment.” The lady of the house nodded and ran back inside. Noah stood there in anxiety, waiting and watching the hard shower start to thin to a light drizzle.
“Your Grace,” A stronger voice said and Noah spun to see a man, twenty or thirty years older than himself, standing with his spectacles on and his bag in hand. “What do you need of me?”
“Please get your horse, Doctor.” Noah instructed, “I do apologize but the matter is critical.”
* * *
The Duke sat with his hands wrapped around a cup of warm tea while he reflected on the past three-and-a-half hours. He knew it had been a rash decision to rush out in such a deadly storm as he could have sent many others to do so, but he had done it.
Despite his frustration with his grandmother, Noah was not going to let her die when he could have done something about it. He had to find out her connection with the man who had killed his beloved and he needed her alive to admit to her despicable deed.
The doctor had just left with a pessimistic diagnosis of low blood levels for the old lady and prescribed foods that enhanced the vital fluids replenishment and to stimulate the liver. Before he had left, Noah had asked the doctor to be the family’s in-house physician and the man had accepted the offer immediately.
Now staring at the murky fluid in the cup, Noah felt his mother’s eyes on him and didn’t even look up. “Do not start, Mother. I did it not because of love, but of duty.”
The Duchess sat beside him and rested her hand on his wrist, “I know Noah, and I thank you.”
The Duke tensed, feeling intuitively that the dialogue wasn’t done and in the next moment he was proven right. “Noah…please, I understand that you’re mourning Lady Emmeline Grant, but the Noah I know is not one the one I’m seeing now. Son, you have to let her go; keeping up with this is only trapping her soul here and making you a shell of your former self.”
