Mortlake laughed harshly. “It is no wonder people say you are a good investigator.”
“I have never set out to be an investigator; unfortunately, I have an incurable curiosity about the world around me, as does Cecilia. You should ask her sometime how we met,” he said with a half smile. “Now, what does Inglewood have on you? Perhaps I can help.”
“We shared one year at university together and became friends—if you can believe that. I was wild—first time out from under my father’s thumb. We decided to steal things, not for money, but to prove we could get away with it. We left what we stole elsewhere to be recovered. Most of the time, the items were recovered. A few times, they were not, for someone else took them. One of the items we took was the chalice cup from the university chapel. It was later found in the possession of Lewis Martin, the illegitimate son of the Earl of Harleigh. He was subsequently expelled, though he protested his innocence. Said he had found it and was going to return it.”
“Lewis Martin!” James half rose out of his chair.
“You know him?”
James laughed. “He was a Bow Street agent for many years. Our paths have crossed.”
Mortlake looked at him with surprise. “He always was a smart devil, though much younger than the rest of us,” he mused.
“So that is what Inglewood has over you? That you let an innocent man take the blame for a theft you committed and be expelled for it? I’m sure it has never bothered Inglewood.”
“No, but it has bothered me, and it is something I’ve never wanted Clementina to know.”
“So you let Inglewood hold that over your head. You’re a sapskull, Mortlake. You did not harm Mr. Martin by your failure to tell the truth. You probably did him a favor, and I’d wager he knows who committed the thefts. He was later reinstated, you know.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“He went on to study law. He had a desire to be a barrister; however, since he was illegitimate, he was barred from that profession. That’s why he joined Bow Street. Tell Lady Mortlake, and dissolve this fear you carry. We need your assistance to make Squire Inglewood as uncomfortable as possible. Our plans won’t work if the highest-ranked citizen in the area doesn’t take a stand against this man and what he does.”
Mortlake picked the diary up off his lap and handed it over to James. “I can’t let that young woman’s death, nor Mrs. Jones’s death, go unresolved.”
“Lady Branstoke and I thank you. As he did not come to this gathering nor allow any of his family to attend, we expect Squire Inglewood to learn of the gossip at church tomorrow. –And speaking of what will be learned tomorrow, the Archbishop hasapproved a curate for the parish. As penance, you are expected to build him a residence.”
“Penance?”
“For tolerating Inglewood’s behavior.”
Mortlake bowed his head. “Accepted.”
CHAPTER 16
SUNDAY
During the Vicar’s church service on Sunday, Cecilia did not have to look toward the Inglewood pew box to know Squire Inglewood glared at her. She felt it.
James reached over to gently squeeze her hand. She looked up at him and smiled. They expected a confrontation with the squire when the service ended. The parish must have too, for people filled the pew boxes and crowded the standing room at the back of the church. The attendance would have gratified the vicar if he hadn’t known why the crowd gathered, he told Cecilia and James before services began. Cecilia felt guilty that the confrontation with Inglewood would occur on holy ground, a place of peace. And she knew there would be a confrontation; it was in that glare and the set of his jaw.
Cecilia took in a deep breath and exhaled. Her shoulders relaxed as she returned her attention to Vicar Jones, where her attention should have been the entire time.
“I have good news to share,” the vicar was saying. “The Archbishop has approved the addition of a curate for our parish. Lord Mortlake and our bishop will begin the process of selection. In addition, Lord Mortlake will see a residence is constructed for our new curate.”
There was a murmur throughout the congregation at the news, taking the minds of all off the Inglewood rumors. Cecilia saw that as a good conclusion to the service, easing the tension she’d felt since she’d taken her seat in their box.
The vicar gave the final blessing and said, “Go in peace,” signaling the end of the service. The congregants hurried to leave the church; however, they did not leave the church property; they huddled in groups, whispering.
James and Cecilia exited with the Aldriches, stopping to shake the vicar’s hand. “Don’t worry so,” Cecilia said softly. “Everything will be fine.”
The vicar looked beyond them to where the Inglewoods followed. “I trust you are right. I place it in God’s hands.”
James and Cecilia walked away from the church entrance, stopping every few steps to answer queries about the rumors that had flooded the village.
“Sir James!” called out Inglewood, pushing his way through the people before him to catch up with the Branstokes. His wife and son hurried after him.
“I want my daughter’s diary,” he yelled, his face red. “You have no right to it!”
