The groundskeeper glanced into the room to find Alaina standing only a few feet away, seemingly unsure of where exactly she should be. Baldwin’s face remained staid as he recounted to Christopher, “Well, my lord, we found things, but we are not sure what it means.”
“Well then, what is it, Thomas?” Christopher asked.
The groundskeeper shuffled his feet uncomfortably and looked at Baldwin in almost a plea for help.
Baldwin shuffled his feet, but his expression did not change. “Well, my lord, we are not sure how much you might want to share with the marchioness.”
Alaina moved beside Christopher, and he responded, “Whatever you have to say, you can do so in front of my wife. It may put her mind at ease.”
The couple let both men into the room, stepping to the side of the door. Baldwin and Thomas entered and stood in the center of the room while Christopher softly closed the door.
“Ok, out with it.” Christopher stated evenly.
“Well…” Thomas started, “it is just that …” His stuttering frustrated the butler.
“It appears as though the only part of the cabin that was disturbed was the study. Nothing is missing, but the ledgers seem disturbed,” Baldwin explained.
“The ledgers in the hunting lodge are old, at least by a few years. Why would anyone look at those?” mused Christopher, almost to himself, as Alaina watched quietly.
Both men shrugged, and Thomas finally found his words. “We have no idea. We hoped you may know.”
“I have no further insights than you,” Christopher responded, mulling over the implications of a person poking around his estates’ financial records, even old ones; nothing pointed to a passing traveler in need of shelter. Turning toward the windows flanking the peacock painting, Christopher thought about what to do. After a moment, he turned back to both men.
“And no one has found a trace of anyone on the wider estate?” Christopher asked.
“No, sir. We have sent riders in all directions, but they have found nothing of consequence. Other than what was directly around the lodge, there were only a few sets of tracks, but they look like wildlife. Whoever these people are, they are exceptionally good at staying hidden in the woods and covering their tracks when they choose,” Thomas replied.
“I will ride out again this afternoon to see what I can find. There has to be some trace of them on the grounds,” Christopher sighed. “I appreciate both of your efforts.”
Both men took the marquess’s last statement as a dismissal and quickly shuffled out of the room. Christopher hung his head and raked his hand through his hair as Alaina moved to embrace him. As he wrapped his arms around his wife, Christopher whispered, “I am so sorry, my love.”
Alaina pulled her head back to gaze at her husband, a quizzical frown playing across her face. “Why would you have a need to feel sorry?”
“My most fervent hope is to have you safely ensconced in our marriage bed for at least a month,” a playful smirk half-touched Christopher’s mouth. “But it seems I must root out whatever bandits may be galivanting around Waverley instead.”
A huff escaped Alaina as she nuzzled once more into her husband’s arms. “Dear husband, whatever this is, it is not your fault. And whatever is going on, we will face it together.”
Chapter 22
Graham flicked the spittle from his coat and tried not to make a face of disgust as he listened to the warden, Jeremiah, explain how he thought ‘Lord Percy’ was wrongfully accused and how his heart ached to see him here in such a state.
“…Surely you’s being family and all. I could’n think of a better person to let him write to…” Jeremiah prattled on as Graham smiled tightly.
Having had enough of the man, and having trouble stomaching the smell of the Newgate Prison, Graham tried to politely interject. “Mr. Jeremiah, I do appreciate the aid you have provided to my cousin; his letter seemed quite urgent. Percy’s circumstances are dire. May I see him?” Graham’s impatience only slightly colored his tone.
“Why, sure thing, my lord…” Jeremiah smiled, seemingly pleased with how the morning was going. Surely, with a high-bred lord showing up at Newgate, he thought he could gain something extra. “Well, I have been helping Lord Percy, these long weeks, and I learned of his innocence, taking extra time from me own and money from my pocket for better food for him. Percy said if you would come, I may get some compensation for me time and help.”
Graham cocked an eyebrow and took out his heavy purse, counting out a few gold sovereigns and handing them to the warden, who practically licked his lips at the thought of the ale or food he could buy with that coin. It wasn’t that Graham minded paying a man for his time, but he got the impression Jeremiah often preyed on family seeking to help a relative. Luckily, Graham had no issues where it came to the depth of his pockets, and his curiosity had been piqued by Percy’s letter.
Jeremiah securely pocketed his money on the inside of his waistcoat, one that looked to be of the most recent fashion, Graham mused, standing in stark contrast to the surroundings of the prison, including even the warden’s office they were currently occupying. Giving the pocket one last pat, setting the coins jingling, Jeremiah smiled a toothy grin at Graham and motioned to the door at the back of the office, which led to a set of alleyways and cell blocks. Graham followed Jeremiah, as he removed a large ring of keys and unlocked the door leading to a tight hallway just behind the warden’s office. The ceiling was lower than the front entrance and office, causing Graham to lower his head and stoop his shoulders ever so slightly. He followed the warden closely as he led them through a maze of hallways.
Jeremiah seemed to prattle on endlessly, without need of input from Graham or pretty much anyone else, Graham surmised. Graham crinkled his nose at the increasingly musty air they encountered as they made their way through the bowels of the Newgate Prison. It was all Graham could do not to try and stifle the stench with his hand. Jeremiah seemed unconcerned.
One final turn, and Graham was met with another assault on the senses, this time in the form of sound. Large wooden doors flanked this hallway, and from the clanking, moaning and general din, Graham imagined them to be overfull of fetid prisoners from all walks of life, kept at some interminable interval awaiting trial, execution, or, in the lucky case, the end of their confinement. Jeremiah stopped about halfway down the hall, outside a door identical to all the others, and started the arduous task of searching the large keychain for the key to unlock the door.
Understanding the meaning of such an action and not wishing to truly meet his cousin face to face, Graham placed hands on Jeremiah’s forearm to stop him. “Jeremiah, he may be my cousin, but I think anything that needs discussing can be said through the window on the door,” Graham stated, motioning to the small, grated window at eye level, where a man of average height could converse without too much effort. Jeremiah moved to speak through the opening as he rapped soundly on the door.
“Hey, Lord Percy,” Jeremiah almost bellowed to be heard over the noise of the hall. “I gots yer cousin here to speak wit’ ye. He comes just as ye said he would.”
