“Spangler told Clarion—in that oily way of his—that Miss Whitaker didn’t have anything to worry about.”
“She damned well doesn’t, and Spangler has nothing to say about it.”
“Right. Clarion almost tossed him out after that, but that’s when things got really interesting.”
Rob leaned forward. “More? Tell me he nailed the old fox.”
Eli ate quietly for a few moments before continuing. “I went up to Caulfield Hall early to go over the original will. I brought my copy of the thing, and we put them side by side. Robbie, the original looked like it had been drawn up in a tavern, not an office.”
Eli’s disgust riveted Rob’s attention. Eli shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It appears to be legal enough, and at first glance, the text matched the fair copy Spangler holds. Pen scratches marred it in some places, as if someone wanted to cross things out and changed his mind. The bottom half looked like someone spilled drink on it, and the earl’s signature wobbled and ran uphill.”
“Not his signature?” Rob’s thoughts raced.
“No, the signature and his seal were proper. Clarion confirmed it. ‘That’s father in his cups,’ he said. When I asked if we could assume Spangler got him drunk, Clarion laughed.”
“I gather that was the man’s normal state. It wouldn’t have taken effort on Spangler’s part.”
Eli nodded. “Clarion said more or less the same thing. The bigger issue lies in the details. Clarion didn’t like it—he hates that will—but I went through it line by line, and then I called him over to double-check.”
Rob frowned into his ale. “Willowbrook isn’t mine. It was added in illegally.”
“No, no. Nothing so big or obvious. All of the properties lined up. The smaller cash bequests are off.”
“Off?”
“In every case, the amounts in Spangler’s so-called fair copy were different. Eight pounds in the will might appear as eighty in the original. In one case, fifty-seven appeared as seventy-five. Any one of them could be put off as a copying error, except every cash bequest was higher in the original than the copy, no other errors appeared, and a good solicitor does not make copying errors.”
“The weasel skimmed money from the bequests.” Rob made an impatient gesture. “We already knew he’s taking from what Lucy sends the Willowbrook account. How does—”
“Skimming, yes, just as he does with Lucy’s accounting. I confronted him. He denied it. ‘Copying errors’ as I predicted.”
“But how does any of this get us closer to proving he caused the accident?”
“Hear me out. That’s when Clarion took over. The Caulfield family papers are kept in their strongroom. The will had its own box that had been sealed with a wax lozenge with the date it was put there. The date on the box and the date on the signature matched. The earl may have been well to go, but he was sober enough to have it stored securely. Are you with me so far?”
Rob frowned irritably, but he nodded.
“First, Clarion demanded to know how many copies he made. Spangler sputtered and wriggled but eventually admitted to two, including the one in his office. Clarion twisted him up with questions—I suspect our young earl might be a terror in Lords—so that when he demanded Spangler tell him how he made the false copies before he brought the final to the earl to sign, Spangler admitted the original had the amounts the earl requested. He claimed he tried to save the estate money.”
Rob continued to listen with deep interest.
“When Clarion told the weasel that he would check the earldom accounts to make sure the full amount had been forwarded to the heirs, Spangler almost lost his last meal. Clarion outright accused him of fraud and threatened to hold him until the next assizes.”
“Fraud.” Rob lost all patience with all legal technicalities. “All Clarion managed to pin on him isfraud?”
“Think on it a bit. He can hold him. He can watch him. He now has a club to—”
“Is Spangler locked up?”
Eli sank back. “No. Spangler again claimed errors. When Clarion demanded to know which copy was the final one intended for signature, he had no answer. It doesn’t matter. The earl signed what he did. Spangler promised to make good on all the original numbers.”
Rob snorted. “Games,” he spat.
“Clarion asked me to make a fair copy of the original will, one Clarion himself will add his certification to. I’m to send a list of discrepancies to both the earl and Spangler, and Spangler is to report on his efforts to locate the recipients.”
Rob let loose a string of soldier’s curses that left Eli ashen. His brother’s wide eyes and panicked expression finally calmed Rob down. “It isn’t your fault. The sums of money are nothing—or close to nothing. Petty cash for the earl’s estate. Spangler almost killed your father, Eli, and he should pay for that. Clarion—”
“Clarion now has him under his thumb. He bought us time, Robbie. Time to prove Spangler is behind the sabotage.”
