Jonathan nodded, breaking off his brother’s question. “Yes, it means precisely that. It means that there were no debts, no questionable investments. And I want to know why they told me such a thing, or I should like to know the evidence they discovered to prove those things to me. It was only a year ago, so they cannot have forgotten the details!”
“I see.” His brother’s frown deepened. “That is a significant concern, brother.”
“Indeed, it is, which is why I want you present,” Jonathan replied, as the carriage came to a stop. A sudden tightness gathered in his chest. He had spent so long being the strong one — the elder brother, the protector, the one who solved problems and bore burdens in silence — that asking for help felt almost like a confession of weakness. But he was weaker without Susanna, and he knew it. “We must together hear what is said so we can decide whether or not those we use for our most private and confidential affairs are to be trusted.”
Lord Tunbridge placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have always stood with me, Lancashire. I am honored that you would let me stand with you.” The simplicity of thewords, and the quiet sincerity behind them, loosened something in Jonathan’s chest that he had not realized was closed off.
“Mr.Stevenson.”Jonathan lifted his chin, noting how the fellow before him had lost some of his color. “I have explained to you my concerns and my confusion. I now expect an explanation.”
Mr.Stevenson wrung his hands, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the other as if he was trying to find a way to escape. “I can only apologize, Lord Lancashire. I am quite certain that the information we shared with you was correct. It may well be that the Duke of Somerset has recovered significantly since then and –”
Jonathan shook his head, then sliced the air with his hand, silencing Mr.Stevenson. “I will not accept that. The Duke was supposedly in such a significant amount of debt that he would have been quite unable to recover so well within less than a year’s time! I was informed that he was in a significant amount of debt and that his investments were questionable. You told me those very things yourself. I demand to know where you found such information.” Just as I should have demanded this time last year.
Closing his eyes, Mr.Stevenson swallowed obviously, as Jonathan and his brother shared a glance. To Jonathan’s eyes, the man was trembling, which suggested either fear or a chill – and given it was the height of summer, Jonathan presumed it was the former. What was the matter with the fellow that he would be so upset?
“Lord Lancashire, I must beg of you tounderstand. I shared only what I thought to be true. I personally spoke to the Duke’s solicitors, since we are trusted friends.”
This made Jonathan’s eyebrows lift. “You spoke to the Duke of Somerset’s solicitor?”
Mr.Stevenson opened his eyes. “Yes, that is so. Mr.Graves and I are very good friends, you understand. We have been so for over twenty years, and I would never even think to disbelieve him.”
“Did he show you any papers or the like?” Lord Tunbridge asked, as Mr.Stevenson frowned. “We must know what it was that convinced you to take what was said as the truth.”
Looking down at the floor, Mr.Stevenson shook his head. “He showed me nothing, my lord. As I have said, he is a man that I trust without hesitation for his word is his bond.”
“But loyalties can be bought,” Jonathan muttered, passing one hand over his eyes as Mr.Stevenson lifted his head sharply, his gaze suddenly and surprisingly piercing.
“Not for Mr.Graves,” he said, his tone harsher now. “He is the very best of men – he and his whole family are upstanding members of society. You must understand, my lord, that to have even a hint of doubt over one’s loyalty is to ruin a man’s employment and take away his security.”
Taking this in, Jonathan felt humbled. He had not thought about things in that way, he supposed. Perhaps he ought to be a good deal more careful in what he said aloud. “You are quite right, Mr.Stevenson.” Rising from his chair, he nodded to the fellow. “I appreciate your honesty.”
Mr.Stevenson blinked. “You – you have nothing more for me, my lord?”
Jonathan shook his head no.
“You are not to…” Mr.Stevenson trailed off and,understanding the fellow’s concern, Jonathan looked back at him over his shoulder.
“No, there is nothing you need to be concerned about, Mr.Stevenson,” he replied, hoping this was reassurance enough. “I will not be taking my business elsewhere or the like. You have served this family for a long time and shall do so for some time still, I hope. Good day.”
As Jonathan turned to leave, his gaze caught on a leather-bound ledger lying open on the edge of Stevenson’s desk — a visitors’ log, of the sort that solicitors kept to record appointments and callers. His mind, sharpened by weeks of suspicion, catalogued the detail before he could think to look away. The most recent entries were written in Stevenson’s careful hand: dates, names, brief notes of purpose. Most were familiar — estate matters, trust inquiries, the ordinary traffic of legal affairs. But one entry, dated only three weeks prior, snagged his attention like a thorn.
A woman’s name. Mrs.Hartwell. Purpose of visit:Enquiry regarding the Somerset accounts.
Jonathan had never heard the name. He glanced at Lord Tunbridge, whose eyes told him he had seen it too. Neither of them said a word. But as they stepped through the outer office, Jonathan catalogued the name silently, filing it away with the precision of a man who had learned to assemble evidence before drawing conclusions. Mrs.Hartwell. Someone had been asking about the Duke of Somerset’s finances — and recently. It was not proof of anything, not yet. But it was a thread, and threads, when pulled, had a way of unraveling entire tapestries.
There came a slight sound of relief from Mr.Stevenson, but Jonathan was already out of the door,his brother behind him. Climbing back into the carriage, Jonathan grimaced and rubbed one hand over his chin.
“Then it is the Duke’s solicitors that are of concern,” his brother said, as he rapped on the roof. “Might I presume that Lady Susanna or Lady Maude is the object of your affection?”
Jonathan smiled ruefully. “Lady Susanna, yes.”
Lord Tunbridge smiled. “I am glad for you, Lancashire.” His smile faded. “But why would the Duke’s solicitor tell our solicitor such untruths, if indeed they are untruths?”
“They must be,” Jonathan responded, leaning his head back. “I will speak to Lady Susanna about the matter.” His lips curved as he recalled the determination with which she had spoken to him about finding out the truth. “I have every certainty that she will want to go to speak to the solicitors herself.”
“And will you join her?”
“If I can.” Jonathan coupled his hands in his lap and frowned. “This is becoming all the more curious and confusing, but somehow, I hope that each uncovering leads us to the truth… and, finally, towards our joyous future.”
