Page 60 of Unending Joy
Freddy motioned him to a chair. “Has he confessed to doings with St. John?”
“Aye. As soon as he realized he was trapped, his courage collapsed. His story’s as queer as any Minerva Press plot.” Hamble produced a crumpled paper. “Written deposition, witnessed by me and Sergeant Leigh.”
Westwood scanned the first lines, brows lifting.
“He admits blackmail?”
“Aye. In so many words. He says Colonel Edward St. John owes him support for ‘a wife and two children’ in Portugal. Silva’s sister, Maria, was landlady to British officers during the war. He claims St. John married her, and she bore a son and a daughter two years later. St. John has not been heard of in twoyears. The wife is dying, and St. John has not responded to pleas for help. Silva came to London to remind him of his duty?—”
“—and found the Colonel dangling after a possible heiress,” Westwood finished, his knuckles whitening on the paper.
Hamble nodded. “Silva began threatening St. John with exposure, and thought to milk him for enough to take care of his family. He says he hurled stones to alarm St. John’s chestnut—meant only to force the Colonel’s hand. Never aimed for her head, he says.”
Westwood’s jaw tightened. “Intent and outcome know little difference, Hamble.”
“’Twas also my thinking, my lord. He seems shaken by the miss’s injury—that part, I judge, was not contrived.”
“Where is Silva now?”
“Clerkenwell. He will stand before the magistrate on Friday.”
Freddy paced back and forth. “And the Colonel?”
“We ’ave kept watch on his lodgings. Word is he took leave from the Guards, and rides out for Portsmouth tomorrow—passage booked on a packet bound for Lisbon.”
Stuart read the missive, then rapped the parchment on the desk. “Blackmail and a secret family—yet none of it meets open court unless we haul it there. What is our object?”
Westwood’s face hardened. “Joy’s future. If the fact that he was married becomes public, she is ruined. If they remain discreet and the Colonel departs, she is spared scandal.”
“St. John must face us first,” Freddy said. “And Joy must hear nothing of this. At least until her health is equal to it.”
Carew frowned. “We summon him now. He has much to answer for.”
Stuart reached for quill and ink. “I shall draft the letter.”
Colonel St. John presented himself at Westwood House that same evening. Freddy stood by the mantel; Stuart beside the desk; Westwood, Rotham, and Carew formed a silent tribunalin chairs. The Colonel entered with outward composure yet an undeniable pallor.
“You asked for me urgently, gentlemen.”
Westwood inclined his head and spoke first. “We have detained a man named Silva.”
St. John’s gloved hands tightened around his riding whip. “On what charge?”
“Assault,” Stuart answered, holding out the deposition. “He has confessed to throwing the object that hit Miss Whitford?—”
“Indeed!”
“—an act intended to warn you and secure funds for an unacknowledged family in Portugal. Your family.”
The Colonel swallowed, colour draining from his face. “Silva talks for his liberty.”
Freddy stepped forward. “Do you deny your flesh and blood?”
Silence boomed. At last St. John exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “I do not deny it. Maria—Miss Silva—was dear to me. I have sent what I could. My debts swallowed the rent of the estate. The inheritance I expected will never materialize thanks to poor investments.” He met Westwood’s eyes. “Your Miss Whitford stood to bring fortune enough to settle everything—my children, my estate. I am quite fond of her.” His voice cracked.
“When you were already married. Were you waiting for your wife to die?” St. John opened his mouth to deny it, but Westwood stayed him with a hand. “You risked Joy’s life to salvage yours.”
“No!” St. John’s denial rang with desperation. “I have never sanctioned violence, nor guessed she would come to harm. When I saw her fall I—” He faltered. “—I knew I must resolve the situation at once.”
