“They saw two men.”
“What? What two men?”
“The night of the fire in Brokerwood.” She kept her eyes ahead on the track road, speaking calmly despite Owen’s urgent tone. “One was gaunt, lanky too. With black hair tied at the back of his head.”
At the description, Owen sat forward in the cart seat, realizing where he had seen such a man before.Mr Alfred Potts.
“What of the second?”
“They didn’t see him, not very well.” Jessie shook her head. “The men were drinking late at night outside Parker’s house when they saw two men creeping through the trees. The gaunt one they saw first, and they chased him off. He dropped this.”
She reached inside her pocket and pulled out a small bronze box. As she passed it into Owen’s hands, he pulled on the reins, urging the horses to trot at a slower pace, giving him the time to examine the item.
It was a bronze matchbox. When he lifted the lid to reveal what was inside, he found two initials engraved on the underside,A.P.
“Alfred Potts,” Owen said with a darkened tone. “What of the second man? Could he have been an associate of Mr Potts?”
“I do not know, that is what is so odd.” She sat forward in her seat, her body going taut. “By the time they had chased Mr Potts away and come back to the houses, they saw a second man. He was well dressed, they said, excessively so, with a top hat and a swagger stick under his arm.”
“Swagger stick?” Owen repeated. He had seen one often enough in the coat stand at the duke’s house. On many occasions, he had passed it into the duke’s own hands before he left for the day. “No, not possible.”
“What?”
“The duke. It cannot have been him. Would he truly go and set a fire himself?”
“I know. It seems unlikely.” Jessie shifted in her seat as she took back the bronze box. “They chased him away too, but by that point, the fire was going. Most of the men dived into the houses to save their loved ones, Parker was amongst them.” Her voice went quiet as she hung her head forward, clearly fighting tears.
Owen let the silence stretch between them, uncertain how to comfort her. After a minute of her tears, she sniffed and lifted her chin again.
“We’ll find who hurt him, Jessie. I promise.”
“It looks like we have,” she said, holding the box up again. “Do you really think it could have been the duke with Mr Potts?”
“I do not know. We cannot be sure.” Owen flicked the reins of the horses, urging them on again. “We need more. With what we have, we cannot go to a magistrate. It could be enough to point the finger at Mr Potts, but not at the duke.”
“There is another thing,” she said, chewing her lip again.
“What is that?”
“Something one of them said when they chased after the duke, but … maybe I am wrong.”
“What, Jessie, what is it?” Owen asked impatiently, yet she had clearly done sharing, sitting back in the seat with a quiet countenance.
“Take me to my cousin’s home, then you go back to the house. There is something I need to find out from Parker’s family.”
“What is it, Jessie?”
“I’ll tell you later. Perhaps, if I’m right, though, I might have something we can give to a magistrate after all.”
Owen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but it didn’t matter how much he asked her, she refused to part with any more information and kept the bronze box tightly between her fingers.
***
“You are quiet this evening,” Diana murmured as she watched Owen across the card table.
“She was hiding something; I am sure of it. I just do not know what it is,” he said as he picked up the cards and began their new game. Diana didn’t pick up her hand, though, she had lost interest. “Is something wrong?” he asked with a soft voice, placing his cards down once again.
Basked in the glow of the candles around them, Diana had been admiring Owen’s countenance, from the brown hair and deep brown eyes to the stubble on his jawline and the way his lips curved into a smile when they said sweet things to each other. She sat forward, leaning on the card table, knowing there was something she had to tell him.
