Barlow shook his head as his frown deepened. “An ugly history, to be sure, with money and murder to fuel the flame. May I ask, though, who obtained the gold?”
Adam looked at Miss Hancock to find her staring at him with further accusation.
“Neither,” she said.
Barlow’s frown grew deeper still. “But you each had a letter…”
“The letter makes no sense. Our parents and grandparents spent a small fortune and untold years attempting to locate the gold to no avail. The letter is apparently rubbish.”
Barlow held out his palms. “So, the trusted friend did steal the gold?”
Miss Hancock nodded. “Perhaps. If so, the Ashfords have ruined my family for something we do not possess and can never retrieve.”
“It was your family that ruined mine!” Heat rising in Adam’s cheeks propelled the words with satisfactory force. “You have rigged mill prices against us for years, driving our profit margin toward nothing.”
“Not so! You steered business away from our mill until my father fell deep into debt. This is your family’s fault!”
“The fault lies entirely with the Hancocks!”
“Enough!” Barlow’s shout rattled the windows, bringing abrupt silence. He stood up from the edge of the desk, gripped both lapels, and began to pace. After a few moments, he halted to face Adam and Miss Hancock. “There is something you should know.”
The ominous portent behind the words drew Adam forward in his chair. He noted Miss Hancock’s similarly rapt attention.
“Oh?” Adam narrowed his eyes. “What is that, Mr. Barlow?”
The solicitor sighed. “I knew your father, Mr. Ashford. He showed kindness to me when I was a young solicitor and offered me sage advice. In his memory, I feel compelled to return the favor.” He splayed his palms before him, entreatingly. “Do you not see that you have been ruined by a third party? Do you not understand that while the two lambs squabbled in the field, the wolf came to devour both?”
Adam blinked with confusion. “Pardon me?”
“Mr. Rutley, and his father before him, fanned the flames of your ancestral feud. For decades, they have systematically funded the efforts of both families to ruin one another—quite successfully. My client now stands to reap the long-expected prize. The Ashford estate. Is this not obvious to you?”
Adam settled into distraught silence as the full force of the quandary hit home. Ashford land had remained intact for nearly two centuries, and he would be the one to lose it. His head fell into his hands and he squeezed his temples. Why hadn’t his father, apparent giver of sage advice, prepared him for this? Why had he not been more forthcoming about the family’s tenuous financial position?
“If only the letter had been right,” he mumbled mournfully. “Glasgow and Edinburgh, indeed.”
He heard Miss Hancock rise from her chair but didn’t lift his head until a touch on his shoulder caused him to flinch. He looked up to find her peering at him with narrowed eyes and a fine crease between her sweeping eyebrows.
“Mr. Ashford. What do you mean regarding Glasgow and Edinburgh?”
The question perplexed him further. How could she not know his meaning? What was her game?
“Glasgow and Edinburgh,” he repeated with mild mockery. “From the first line of the letter.”
The surprise that lit her face erased some of his doubt. She appeared thoroughly confused. He stood to face her.
“What is it, Miss Hancock? What do you know?”
She stared at him for several seconds before reaching into her reticule. Her hand emerged clutching a familiar folded paper.
“Your copy of the letter?”
“Perhaps not a copy.” She opened the document. “Mine is entitled ‘Initium’. The first two lines read, ‘Liverpool, Leeds, a fortress unseen. A cross to denote the point to set sail.’”
Adam’s breath caught. Without thinking, he reached into his jacket to produce his family’s copy of the letter. He carried it with him always since the day his dying father had bequeathed it to him. He opened it carefully and read the first two lines.
“Mine is entitled ‘Sequitur’. It reads, ‘Edinburgh, Glasgow, the castle between. An arrow revealing the start of the trail.’”
He glanced up to find Miss Hancock’s features wracked with injured betrayal. She shook her head slowly. “The letters are a lie. A ruse intended to keep us from the gold.”
