Page 71 of Rogue of the Greenwood
“A secret meeting in the forest,” Mr. Dent snorted. “I see no point to that at all! It isn’t as if I will truly be carrying the money from Greenwood to St. John. Why do we need silly pretense?
“In case anyone sees you, of course! Don’t be so thick. When you claim you’ve been robbed, you must have details to go with it. What if you say it happened at four o’clock and some ruddy traveler claims they were on the road then and saw no sign of you? No, you must go out there, you’ll meet with my man to corroborate your story, and then we can go forward.”
“Very well, I suppose that makes sense. I will be at the meeting place at the proper time.”
“Excellent. There is no way this can fail. Now see me out, Dent; I must be on my way. There’s so much to do, you know. I have a dinner and two weddings toplan.”
Mr. Dent laughed with him. “I still don’t see why you’re giving the St. John chit to the sheriff. Wouldn’t it be better for you to have her, since she’ll be the one to inherit, of course?”
“Reeve does as he’s told—I have everything I need to keep him in line. He’s content with Miss St. John and welcome to whatever she might inherit from her father’s measly estate; all I want is the mortgage.”
“But if you married the girl, you would have that.”
Gisborn’s reply was slow and ominous. “I will have that no matter. But this way, you see, I will get Marianne Maidland, as well.”
She held her hand to her mouth to keep from gasping aloud. What had she just heard? Something dreadful was being planned! She was a pawn in it, too. Mr. Gisborn did indeed have designs on Greenwood, and he was using them all to get it. Worse, it sounded as if… as if Uncle Prinley were in danger!
But what could she do? There was no safe way to get word to Robert; she did not even know where he was now. Mr. Gisborn claimed there were men out searching for him. That was, no doubt, due to her brilliant idea of posing as Robin Hood. The forest would be swarming with the sheriff’s men—again. She didn’t dare try to send a message.
Her only opportunity would be tonight. Robert would be at Greenwood, searching the office while they were at dinner. Well, he might not know it, but she and Robert Locksley had an assignation tonight. Somehow, she would get away from the group and find him.
She would warn him that Mr. Gisborn was up to much more than mere fraudulent paperwork.
Chapter 18
The room was in darkness. Robert knew his way, though. He’d spent countless hours in this room, first as a child playing at his father’s feet while he worked, and then as a young man trying to make sense of running an estate after his parents’ untimely deaths. He knew the room, yet it felt strange and unwelcoming to him.
No doubt that was Gisborn’s influence. Greenwood had faded since Robert was last here. He could not see any specific changes his would-be successor made, but the pure lack of attention left the house feeling dusty and abandoned. This room—the office—was especially marked. Gisborn’s vileness permeated the air, the walls, the floors, and the books. This would, no doubt, be the first room Robert purged once he was back in control. He would remove any trace of Gisborn’s time here, his cruel thoughts and his manipulation.
“I’m finding nothing,” Will complained from the other side of the room.
“Same here,” Robert confessed. “I know the man does business here, I can find his ledgers and correspondence, but nothing that would speak to what we are looking for.”
They’d crept in through a window. Robert had known for years the lock did not work, but he’d never had trouble with burglars. It was his damned steward he should have been worried about. Fortunately, Gisborn was so incompetent that he had not noticedthe problem with the window.
Robert had slid the window open easily and he and Will hoisted themselves inside. The other men were outside, keeping watch at various points. Alan instructed them in a series of bird calls to indicate warning, should someone come their way.
“I’ve searched these cabinets, that desk, and everything stacked on this table,” Will declared. “Nothing even remotely illicit.”
“That’s what I’ve found over here. If one didn’t know better, one might think Mr. Gisborn is an exemplary fellow.”
“One would be wrong,” Will said. “He’s a blackguard. We simply have to find the documents to prove it. Where else might he hide something like that?”
“Most of the house is shut up,” Robert said. “It appears he’s gone to great lengths to let everything go, to give the appearance that Greenwood is failing. I can’t understand why, but it must be to hide what he’s doing with my money.”
“But how can making you out as a pauper help him in any way? Isn’t he dependent on you?”
“As long as I’m alive he is dependent on me,” Robert said, pausing to stare around the room and try to put all the pieces tighter. “But he’s told everyone I’m dead.”
“Which, again, makes no sense to me. Why kill you, old chum, when that would only let somebody else inherit the place?”
“That’s what I’m wondering. Then again, if the estate is in disrepair and Gisborn has hidden my funds—it would hardly seem valuable. And with a mortgage hanging over it, I wonder if my distantrelatives would even want the place? They’d be saddled with debt on an estate they had no use for. Would you want to inherit that?”
“I certainly wouldn’t, not if you put it that way. I’d try to push it onto anyone who would take off my hands.”
“Then perhaps that’s what Gisborn is planning. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“It’s rather clever, actually. He ruins your estate, hides all your money, takes out a mortgage, then hires someone to kill you. Your heirs think they’ve been stuck with a mortgaged hovel on worthless land, so they sell it to him for a song.”
