Page 21 of An Enchantress for an Earl

Chapter Eight

In a dark old building, not far from the houses of parliament and the wharves, crowded in on both sides by aging warehouses, a man rose from a cramped position, lovingly wiping the last of the old ink from the surface of the machine before him. He stretched, uttering a quiet oath, then limped across to open a door on the other side of the room. Inside, neat stacks of papers waited on benches and tables.

Once he was sure that the ink was completely dry, he wrapped each bundle in a sheet of paper, and sealed it closed with plain red wax. That done, he packed all of the bundles into the large safe which was set into one wall. He nodded, satisfied – it was almost enough. His Lordship had promised that, once that safe was full, George would be given one of those bundles, and allowed a month or more to go back to Hamhall village and spend time with his mother and sister, before coming back to do more of this again. Another week or two here, and he could leave, with enough to ensure his family would survive, no matter what.

He locked the safe, and slid the large old noticeboard back across in front of it.

Strange how the skills he’d learned at war, repairing weapons in the field and making bits of jewellery out of the shattered remains of what wasn’t repairable, had led him to this life. Once, he would have refused such a choice, but now – it had been better than starving, better than his mother starving. There weren’t many jobs for the injured when they returned from war.

And then His Lordship had discovered what he was doing, and made him a devil’s bargain. Keep doing it, with better equipment, mostly for His Lordship’s benefit, and thereby make sure that his family was safe and could stay on in the cottage on His Lordship’s land, or be handed over to the law, and end in prison, or worse.

He had done what any sane man would, and agreed.

But he’d known then, as he knew now, that there would never be an end to it. Men were greedy, and what he did made it all too easy to satisfy that greed. The years ahead looked bleak – just as bleak as war had been.

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Violet set the somewhat crumpled bank note down on the surface of Trent’s desk, and pushed it across to him. She had just repeated for him everything that she could remember of both conversations that she had overheard.

“And you are sure that the voices were the same, for both conversations?”

“Completely sure.”

“And that the man you saw was Lord Villeham?”

“Yes. I had only met him once, last year – but I remembered, for I danced with him then and found him rather repugnant.”

“I see.”

Trent lifted the paper, and scrutinised it intently, holding it close to the candle he had set on the desk for that purpose. After a few moments, he set it down on the desk again.

“Am I correct? Is it a forgery?”

Violet’s voice was soft, and she could hear the uncertainty in her own tone. Trent met her eyes.

“You are. It’s a very good forgery, but it’s definitely a forgery. What gives it away is here.” He tapped his finger on one corner of the note. “That text is wrong – the letters are the wrong shape, just slightly.”

“So… you will take this to Lord Setford?”

“I will. He is already aware that there seems to be some forgery work happening amongst some of the ton, but this is excellent evidence to allow him to move his investigations forward further.”

“Please let me know what happens – it disturbs me greatly that men so casually capable of wrongdoing are accepted amongst us.”

“I will. And do be careful – no more listening at doors please! But if you do hear or see anything relevant, tell me immediately.”

“I most definitely will. And… do you think that I am correct, in assuming that they threaten Lord Merryfield? I have said nothing to him…”

“I cannot yet be sure – say nothing until I confirm the truth of it.”

Violet frowned.

“I… I do not like leaving him unwarned, but… if I am wrong, then I would worry him for nothing.”

“Lord Setford will ensure that anyone threatened is guarded, if necessary. Leave I to his to do their job.”

“I cannot like it, but I will do as you say.”

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