Small, the size of a linen closet, the strong room had been built into the stone that lined the cellars and back part of the house. It was fireproof and fortified against burglary, and its thick oaken door had been installed inside the office, where a hearth kept the room warm and the papers dry, for the strong room held the Clarion archives. It also held Maddy’s personal papers.
Eli turned the massive iron key in one lock and the one on a more recently added device at floor level. When the door turned on well-oiled hinges, he lit a lantern kept on a hook on the jamb and peered inside. “I wasn’t aware we had Glenmoor material here, Your Grace. I don’t believe I’ve seen your papers.”
“There should be a box on a lower shelf toward the back.”
Moments later he returned, carrying a wooden casket. “This must be it. The lid is engraved with your name—the old one.”
Lady Madelyn Caulfield.Maddy ran a finger over the brass plaque. “This is it,” she murmured.Yes, this is what I came for.Relieved that it appeared undisturbed, she took a small key from her reticule and unlocked the lid.
“I will leave you in privacy.”
Her head bobbed up. “There is no need. Colonel Morgan may join us. I gave word to bring him back here.” Still unsure what to tell the colonel, she anticipated his arrival with hope and no small amount of pleasure.
She leafed through the papers: a few letters from David at university, her marriage lines, her final settlement from the Glenmoor estate. The item she sought lay at the bottom. She removed it and locked the little casket. “You can put this back,” she murmured, handing him the box while staring at the letter.
She could detect no postal marks, exactly as she recalled. She had always assumed it was hand delivered. She groaned at the date,June 1793. Phillip would have been five. She thought to take pencil and paper to line up dates, but she had little hope they would tell her anything other than what she had guessed the day she’d found it. That it worked as an effective weapon against Randolph had proven her right. He’d had his minions search her belongings when she’d been gone. Three times. Only her threat to recite the contents from memory in public had prevented him from… She dreaded to think what. He’d left her in peace, and she’d kept her part of the bargain, to hide the letter.
She read and reread,I send you your son and beg to inform you that your wife has died…Wife!
Randolph Tavernash had married Gideon’s mother. Was a letter sufficient proof of that? She stared at the one thing she hadn’t had cause to notice in the past. The signature.Isaiah Jessop.A witness to the event, no doubt.
“Lady Madelyn, you’ve gone pale. Has that letter distressed you?”
She felt rather than saw Eli take a step closer.
“What letter?” a familiar voice demanded from the doorway. “Is that why you were so insistent on returning to Ashmead?” Brynn Morgan’s black eyes bore into hers.
*
“…you’ve gone pale.”The younger Benson’s alarm disturbed Brynn more than his words. He sped up and turned into the estate office to see the duchess white as his linen shirt.
“What letter? Is that why you were so insistent on returning to Ashmead?” The harsh words weren’t what he’d intended. Obviously, the duchess had found what she’d come for and wasn’t happy with it. Her distress became his.
She sat on a wooden chair against one wall. The only other seat was behind the desk. Even the wide-eyed maid stood in a corner, gaping. He could only stand before Lady Madelyn, arms that longed to enfold her at his side, useless.
Lady Madelyn folded the letter in her lap with shaking hands. “Yes. I—I needed to be sure.”
“And now you are?” His mind buzzed—Sure about what?
“Yes—no.” Her eyes filled with moisture.
If she’s confused, I am more so.
He rose to his feet. “Let’s find somewhere comfortable for Her Grace. The drawing room, perhaps? And tea might not go amiss.” Brynn almost sighed with relief when she took his outstretched hand.
“Tea would be welcome,” she said, leaning on his arm, the letter still clutched in one hand.
Eli raised a questioning brow. Brynn shrugged and then gestured forward with his head. Brynn led her out of the office, but she stopped and turned to Eli.
“May I have a bit of foolscap and a pencil, please?”
The Benson sprout grabbed what she requested and followed them, likely as eager as Brynn to get to the root of her distress. She stopped them at the breakfast parlor, the first comfortable family room they came to. The little maid scurried off to request tea.
The two men watched her spread the letter on the table and scratch numbers on the scrap of paper only to scrunch it up and sit back with her eyes squeezed shut.
Brynn pulled up the chair next to her and touched her hand gently. “Your Grace, what has you overwrought?”
She groaned. “Phillip may seem a bit silly, but he has a good heart. He’s a good man. He didn’t deserve—” She blinked at Brynn, suddenly alert. “He didn’t deserve the way his father treated him.”
