Page 71 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
Blythe came out onto the landing and watched her brother plop down. Two of the Runners lingered nearby.
“Keep that bastard away from here,” Will said. “Keep him away from my sister. If he sends a note, I want to see it.”
“Let me see it first, if you please,” Blythe called.
“Where is that weasel off to?” Will grunted. “Demme if I could only follow him.”
“We’ve got someone onto him,” one of the Runners said.
Mr. Fleming—indeed, the man who’d been talking to Morley and Jarrow was the Chilcombe solicitor—had brought news to the meeting. As soon as Diddenton had filed a challenge to the will, Fleming had begun an investigation into the property dispute. He’d searched the deeds and documents that had been transferred to Risley Manor from Bluebelle Lodge upon Mr. Davies’ death, as well as tax records at Somerset House and those kept by county offices and the local land tax collectors. He’d also commissioned another survey of the disputed land.
Diddenton’s claims were at best mistaken, and at worst, utterly fraudulent.
“Reckless of him,” the Lord Lieutenant said before leaving the meeting early with Sir William. “And a grave injustice to Chilcombe’s widow. Can’t have peers dispossessing widows. I suppose he thought that you would be off in another country and uninterested in Lady Chilcombe’s disinheritance.”
“He does not know me,” Graeme said. “This is a matter of honor.”
Wellington nodded. “You’ll have our backing on this, Chilcombe.”
The young earl’s heir who’d organized the meeting took over when the more senior men left. Lord Ashley was not more than one and twenty but he had a serious mien that brooked no nonsense. It was in the public’s interest, and the government’s, he said, to take Diddenton down a peg. More than a peg. To Lord Ashley’s way of thinking, Diddenton ought to be driven from England. His heir was equally pernicious, as well as son number two. The only son of Diddenton’s worth anything had been number three, who’d died at Cambridge many years earlier. And of course, his youngest son, Lord Vernon, everyone knew to be a detestable blot on society.
“Now the question becomes, what step to take next,” Ashley said.
Fleming cleared his throat. “With your permission, Lord Chilcombe, we may present the results of our searches to the court. Although, it might complicate matters if it’s found that the late Lord Chilcombe did indeed execute a new will.”
“If he was in his right mind,” Ashley said. “Pardon me, Chilcombe, but was your late cousin not profoundly addicted to opium and subject to coercion?”
“Given the lack of witnesses, coercion will be hard to prove,” Jarrow said.
“As is the existence of the new will,” Morley said. “Perhaps, Mr. Fleming, Chilcombe, we should wait until we find the nurse who was attending the late earl when he died.”
“Surely she won’t have the will,” Ashley said. “What of Lady Chilcombe? Did she see it?”
Before Graeme could formulate a response that would not be an outright lie, Jarrow spoke up.
“My father was both coroner and magistrate when Sir Morris Pierpont died on the day the new will was supposedly signed, and then later when Lord Chilcombe died. His illness prevents him from speaking, but his notes make no reference to her being questioned about the existence of the will.”
And she would never be questioned if Graeme had any say. It was time to play his last chip. A niggle of guilt told him he should wait until Blythe was present. But on the other hand, as fragile as her emotions had been lately, perhaps he’d best do this without her.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “as it happens, I have come into possession of a letter that sheds more light on this matter. The letter is dated one day before the new will was supposedly executed and was addressed to Diddenton and signed by Lord Vernon. In his letter to his father, Lord Vernon writes that he’d supplied the late Lord Chilcombe with a potent Indian opium and had tasked Sir Morris with adding to this persuasion to get Chilcombe to sign the new will. He said he anticipated my cousin’s demise soon, after which he, Lord Vernon would take possession of Bluebelle Lodge.”
Morley let out a long breath. “He’s the youngest son and greatest ne’er do well of the bunch. Diddenton has refused to keep funding him and won’t give him a property. Maybe this is his way of accomplishing that. The plan for the lime pit was all a hum.”
Jarrow’s level frown had Graeme holding his breath, awaiting the question about the provenance of the letter.
“That doesn’t stand up,” Jarrow said, finally. “At least not entirely. There’s got to be another reason for targeting Chilcombe.”
“Consolidating his domain?” Morley mused. “The properties run alongside each other, now that Diddenton’s bought Wickworth Hall.”
“The late Lord Chilcombe was at Cambridge,” Ashley said. “Diddenton’s third son died there in an accident. Chilcombe’s name came up giving testimony at the inquest. Might that be the connection?”
Graeme searched through his memories. “Our families weren’t close,” he said. “I recall some whispering about my cousin being sent down for bad behavior. The grandparents were livid.”
“I’ll look into it,” Jarrow said.
Morley cleared his throat. “I’ll see what I can learn about that also. However, there may be another motivation. I beg your pardon, Chilcombe, but it always seemed to me that Lord Vernon had an unnatural interest in your cousin’s wife. Not speaking ill of the lady, you understand, but of him. There must have been a reason for her to take herself off to Bluebelle Lodge so often.”
Graeme thought of the boldness of Lord Vernon’s statements the day he met him, first at White’s and then at the rout that evening. She won’t be troubling you for support much longer. Suppose I ought to tell you. Archie felt bad about leaving Blythe nothing. He asked me to take care of her. Good friends for years, you know. I promised him I’d marry her.
