After Gilbert had taken such care to hide his papers in the past, it seemed odd he left them out the night before. It must have been an error and one Diana was keen to take advantage of. She pulled the papers forward and began to search through them, looking for three particular names.
“You are not listening to me.” Jessie strode towards Diana, waving her hands at her side, clearly eager to get her attention. “Two of your days have already gone; today is your third. You barely have any time left to find somewhere to go. Have you found anywhere yet?”
Diana didn’t answer, for she had found deeds that belonged to Haymarket field, yet the names were being changed from Gilbert’s to a new buyer. At the bottom, there was a particularly large sum for the land. One so large that Diana baulked at the price.
“Your Grace,” Jessie called for her attention with despair in her voice.
“Jessie, calm yourself.”
“How can I be calm? You have barely any time left. I should tell Gilbert right now what you did and abandon our deal entirely.” She stepped forward again. “Why aren’t you listening? What is this?” Jessie took the parchment but frowned, her eyes dancing across the paper without halting.
“Jessie, can you read?”
“No. What does it say?”
“It says Haymarket. Where the first fire was.” Diana pointed at the paper. “It’s deeds of a sale, and that figure, well, it’s far too large for a normal parcel of land.”
“I don’t understand,” Jessie said, still clinging to the paper. “Gilbert sold the land?”
“It appears he did, for an inflated sum.”
Jessie dropped the paper, watching as it drifted down to the desk. Diana didn’t have time to analyse Jessie’s surprise. She was looking at the pile once again, trying to find more papers. Near the bottom of the pile, there was another interesting bundle entitled deeds of sale, yet they pertained to Avon Acres.
Wordlessly, Diana passed the deed into Jessie’s hands.
“I can’t read it!” Jessie said, earning a calming wave of Diana’s hand.
“It is the same thing. Only, for Avon Acres. A sale for the same ridiculous price.”
“Oh …” Jessie trailed off, clinging to this page as much as she had clung to the last one. “The duke said how sorry he was to hear of the fires.”
“He did?” Diana asked, turning her eyes to Jessie. It seemed pillow-talk in Gilbert’s bedchamber had strayed into more serious matters. “What else did he say?”
“I mentioned them,” Jessie said distractedly, not looking up from the paper. “I talked of those who were injured. One of them at Brokerwood … he’s a friend of my family. They say he may not survive. When I told the duke, he looked pained at the idea, truly sorry for them.”
“Was he?” Diana couldn’t keep the scepticism out of her voice. She rather thought Gilbert was putting on an act, trying to sound like he had empathy when he, in fact, had none.
She turned her attention back to the papers when she found deeds for Brokerwood in Frome at the very bottom of the pile. The sale was drawn up, ready to take place; all that was left was Gilbert’s signature and the buyer’s signature. “It’s another. For Brokerwood. Not yet signed.”
Jessie snatched this one out of her hands with such eagerness that it nearly tore between their fingers.
“What does it mean?” Jessie asked, shaking the paper in Diana’s direction. “Your Grace … what does it mean?”
“I think Gilbert has been selling the land at an inflated price, but he can only sell it when the tenants are gone.”
“You mean he’s driving them out of their homes?”
“It certainly looks like it.” Diana took the papers back from Jessie’s hand, returning them to the pile, but the damage was done. Jessie backed away, nearly tripping into a nearby chair as she pulled the slip of paper bearing the address out of her pocket again.
“I … have to go.”
“Go where?”
“There is somewhere I need to be.” Jessie hurried out of the room, but Diana chased after her.
“Wait, are you going to that house?”
“What does it matter to you?”
