“I should like to speak with her. Is there anything else I should be aware of before I talk with her?”
Timmons’s warning rang in Anthony’s head. If he was going to be honest about his attachment with Charlotte, this was the ideal opportunity. Yet he could not make himself do it. His vow to help her was much stronger than his allegiance to William Walstead. He had to think of Charlotte’s future, Henry’s future,and his own future. And he could not risk being reassigned. Not when he could help her. Not when she was softening toward him.
“No, sir. Nothing else of consequence.”
***
Charlotte heard the horsemen before she saw them.
At the sudden ruckus she dropped the gown she was helping to resize for Sutcliffe and hurried to her bedchamber window. Ever since the discovery of the letter, every sound, every movement set her nerves afire. She’d not ventured far from the upstairs chambers, and she’d only let Henry from her sight if he was with Sutcliffe or Rebecca. Charlotte had expected to feel relief at Mr.Walstead’s arrival, but the sight of the two additional watchmen with their bright blue armbands incited more anxiety than peace.
“It’s Mr.Walstead, and it appears he’s brought more watchmen,” she called over to Sutcliffe, who was sewing next to the opposite window to take advantage of the light. “Hurry, please help me dress into the best mourning gown I have.”
Together they selected a gown of black bombazine, with black lace netting high on the bodice and the neckline, long sleeves, and a Vandyke hem along the bottom. Her hair, thick and still damp from a washing earlier that morning, was plaited and woven into a hasty yet tidy chignon and secured with jet pins.
The sound of the men entering the great hall echoed from the wood paneling outside of her chamber, and her stomach fluttered. Charlotte tried not to jump to conclusions regarding any news hemight bring. She swept from the room, down the parlor staircase to the great hall, where several of the men gathered.
She refused to be intimidated by their presence.
“Mrs.Prior.” Mr.Walstead met her at the foot of the staircase, bowed, and reached for her hand to assist her. “I’ve heard there has been a frustrating development.”
“Yes. A most concerning note.”
“I’ve informed your brother-in-law about this, and he agrees that security should be increased.” Mr.Walstead motioned behind him. “Mr.Broadstreet and Mr.Ames here will be assisting Mr.Welbourne and Mr.Timmons until this matter is settled. I do have updates to share with you. I was hoping we could speak in a more private setting.”
She let her gaze linger on the other two men. Mr.Ames was of average height with a stocky build, a hardened face, and strong, wooden features. She was certain she’d never seen him before. But something was familiar about the other man, Mr.Broadstreet. He boasted an unusual shade of deep-auburn hair—one not easily forgotten. In all likelihood he’d worked for Roland at some point, for where else would she have seen him? She turned her attention back to Mr.Walstead. “Of course. Before we do, would your men care for refreshment?”
“No, I thank you. First, I think it most important to get them familiar with our surroundings.” He turned to face the men. “Timmons, you show Ames and Broadstreet the property. Welbourne, you stay with us.”
Once the other watchmen were gone, Charlotte led the wayto the parlor and closed the door behind them. “We can speak privately here.”
She clutched her hands nervously before her as Mr.Walstead and Anthony filed into the room, and she forced her anxiety in abeyance. The last time she spoke with Mr.Walstead she’d been angry and frightened. She was still those things, but every day at Hollythorne House had ushered in a new measure of confidence that bolstered her tenacity.
Mr.Walstead removed his hat, smoothed his slick black hair into place, stepped to the window, and assessed the landscape, then turned back to her. “I’ve been working with your brother-in-law to discover the nature of the mill workers’ unrest. I’d hoped the problem would be easy to rectify, but the more we dig into your husband’s finances and correspondence, the clearer it is that he was in quite a bit of trouble in the months before his death. Were you aware?”
She could sense Anthony’s gaze on her, but she dare not look in his direction. “I know no specifics, Mr.Walstead. As I told you before, my husband shared none of his business practices with me.”
Mr.Walstead stepped farther into the room, his wet, polished boots squeaking as he traversed the stone floor. “We’ve uncovered certain details, and I hesitate to share them with you because they’re far from delicate, but Mr.Prior assured me that you’re quite stoic when it comes to such things.”
“If you are concerned for my sensibilities, please, do not be. I fear very little shocks me.”
He nodded and fixed his intense gaze on her. “You maybe surprised to learn that your husband had been involved in smuggling some goods from Spain. According to my source, he promised some of his mill workers that he would compensate them in exchange for assistance with the smuggling transport. The run was successful, but apparently the items disappeared shortly after their arrival in Leeds. Your husband accused the mill workers of theft and then refused to pay any of them until the items were returned. Now the workers are demanding payment for services rendered, but without a delivered parcel, there is no evidence of a job done.”
Charlotte blinked. The answer seemed so simple. “Surely there is enough money in Roland’s estate to pay these men what they are owed. The amount can’t be that significant. Why not compensate them and be done with it?”
“Well, that brings me to another point. Your husband had invested in unsuccessful overseas endeavors, and his estate’s worth was reduced to such a state that Roland could be considered a ruined man. As you can imagine, the news has angered Silas Prior and he will not authorize any payments to these men at all.”
The reality of what he’d said struck her.
Henry’s inheritance.
She forced the shock of Roland’s alleged destitution and the implications thereof to the back of her mind and refocused her attention back to the matter at hand. “Do you know what he was transporting?”
“A great many things, I’ve been led to believe. He’d made a large purchase from a Spanish estate, but the most valuable pieceof the missing import is a set of jewels known as the King’s Prize. Does that mean anything to you?”
“‘King’s Prize’?” She frowned as she searched her memory. “No. I’ve never heard of it.”
“It is a collection of emeralds. All from an Egyptian mine. They are all large and in various stages of refinement.”
