Ashford turned the stem of his glass between his fingers. “But who? Amelia is the only lady within the immediate connection, and she is no ward.”
“No,” said Matlock. “Nor was she ever.”
“Then we are to suppose,” said the Colonel, “that Trevelyan discovered a relation none of us were aware of, and chose to settle his estate upon her without so much as a word.”
Matlock took a slow sip of port.
“I do not say it was without word. Only that we did not attend to it as we ought.”
Ashford looked up.
“You were told something?”
“Very little,” said Matlock. “And not in such a manner as to fix it in the mind. There was a letter; I remember it now only imperfectly. Trevelyan wrote to me on a matter of family concern. Something requiring attention; some alteration, perhaps, in an existing arrangement.”
He turned his glass slowly in his hand. “It was some fifteen years ago.”
“You were at Matlock at the time,” said Darcy.
“I was,” said Matlock. “And could not leave. Alfred was in town; I understood that he saw to it.”
“And nothing further was said,” said the Colonel.
“Nothing that I recall,” said Matlock. “But it was shortly after that letter that we were all otherwise engaged.”
Ashford tapped the ash from his cigar into the tray beside him.
“If the matter concerned a young relation, and her circumstances were not what they ought to be,” said Gardiner, “it might well require both guardianship and provision.”
“Just so,” said Matlock.
“And if Alfred undertook it,” said Darcy, “he would have been in a position to direct both.”
The Colonel picked up his glass. “Then we must allow that what we took for omission may, in fact, have been design.”
Ashford drew a slow breath through the cigar before removing it. “And the lady remains unnamed.”
“For the present,” said Matlock. “We have more questions now than we had before, and fewer means of resolving them.” Setting down his glass, he drew a folded letter from his coat and opened it. “He is still in Kent. A tenant house on one of the outer farms took fire last week, and the confusion of his father's affairs has left half the estate badly managed. We may not hear from him again so soon as we might wish.”
“That at least sounds like a living man,” said the Colonel.
Matlock took up his glass. “He writes under pressure, and not without reason. There is mention, though imperfect, of a contract. A betrothal, it seems, but not clearly expressed.”
“A union of estates?” Ashford said.
“So it appears.”
“And the lady,” Darcy said, “must be the ward.”
“He has written further?” Ashford asked.
“Only enough to make it plain that the arrangement was not his own,” Matlock answered.
“And the gentleman,” said the Colonel, “is very conveniently Ashcombe himself.”
“No convenience to him, it seems,” said Matlock. “He speaks of it with marked displeasure; as something arranged without his knowledge, and not easily set aside now that it has come to light.”
“He objects to it?” Ashford asked.
