“You are the Duke of Holdridge?” the man asked after a moment, looking to Henry.
“I am.”
The man gestured for them to follow, leading them into a cramped kitchen that still smelled of the morning’s breakfast. At a small, round table, all four men sat down.
“I would offer you something to drink but I don’t have anything,” the man said, his demeanor anxious as he turned to address Henry once more. “I am Alan Fry, Your Grace. I… was one of the men who caused your wife’s carriage to overturn.”
Henry glared at the man. “Were you the one who put a pistol to her head?”
“Y-Yes, but… but only because I was told to,” Alan replied, stumbling over his words. “The pistol wasn’t even mine. It was given to me; I couldn’t have figured out how to use it even if I’d wanted to, which I didn’t.”
Conscious of his breathing, focusing on every inhale and exhale to keep himself calm, Henry asked, “Who told you to attack her? Who gave you the pistol?”
“I don’t know,” Alan replied, grimacing as if he knew it would not be a satisfactory answer. “We were employed by someone who never gave his name. He’d send a messenger to tell us what to do. The messenger came, gave us instructions and the pistol, and told us where to go. We were supposed to wait for a carriage with one of two crests on it.”
The man dug a crumpled bit of paper out of his pocket and flattened it out on the table. Side by side were two crude depictions of family crests, though Henry only recognized theone on the right: the Farhampton crest. The other was oddly familiar, a shield with three blobs on it, and some strange, badly drawn sort of creature at the top.
“Does that mean anything to you?” Henry asked, pointing to the latter drawing.
Luke frowned. “It is hard to tell.”
“I can check it against some of my books when I return home,” Owen said, holding out his hand for the paper.
Gulping loudly, Alan handed it over. “Your Grace, I was instructed to hurt your wife that night. I was told to shoot her in the leg as a warning about some… debts or other. The messenger told me what to say and what to do, but I couldn’t do it, Your Grace. She was already hurt, and she said she’d pay, so I… just said that was acceptable and left with the others.”
“And you know nothing of who gave those instructions?” Henry said, a snarl in his voice. “I find it hard to believe that you would not have some inkling.”
Alan shook his head. “I swear, I know nothing. The messenger was… um… well-dressed, though. Nice livery. Like he worked for a decent house and had a good position there.”
“Livery?” Blood rushed in Henry’s ears. “Was there anything unique about it that you can tell me? A particular color of cravat? Any adornments?”
Alan frowned for a moment. “There was a button missing. And a small rip in the sleeve that had been badly darned. I only noticed because the rest of what he was wearing was so nice.”
“You can think of nothing else? Nothing at all?” Henry urged, no longer livid with the man, just desperate for answers.
“Nothing, Your Grace. He had half his face covered, and a top hat that covered the rest, since he kept his head down most of the time.”
Henry heaved out an exasperated sigh, looking to his friends for assistance.
It was Owen who spoke next. “Did the messenger mention a Gibbs Carter or a Viscount of Farhampton?”
“Gibbs Carter?” Alan began to nod slowly. “Only that it was his daughter we were to attack, and we’d know her because she’d be the one in the carriage. And it was Gibbs’ debts we were supposed to demand repayment for. Funny thing is, though, when I asked who we should say sent us, the messenger said it didn’t matter, that our main task was just to threaten and hurt the woman.”
“Mywife,” Henry corrected venomously.
The man jumped in his seat. “Your wife, of course. Apologies, Your Grace.”
“Has this messenger summoned you again?” Luke jumped in. “Recently, perhaps?”
Alan seemed confused. “No, Your Grace. I haven’t heard from him since we were paid the morning after that night.”
“So, you have not been asked to harm my wife again?” Henry urged.
“No, Your Grace.”
This is hopeless. This is entirely useless.
Vexed by the situation and the distinct lack of new information, Henry scraped back the chair and rose to his feet. Without a word, he stormed out of the kitchen before he did something thathewould have to answer for.
