Julian's voice was cold.
“Why are you telling us now?”
Thomas looked toward Bess.
“Because she came to my room this morning and asked me whether I could bear to see her family ruined for something I had done.”
The young man swallowed.
“And because I can't.”
Julian turned toward Mr. Whitford.
“Is this sufficient?”
“It is sufficient to begin a very serious inquiry.”
He closed the copybook.
“I suggest we act before Mr. Vane learns that it has been recovered.”
But they were already too late.
Silas Vane had not returned to the estate offices after the flood.
By midafternoon, word arrived that he had been seen driving toward the western road in a hired carriage.
Sir Edmund Cross had also disappeared.
Julian sent two riders after them.
Then he rode to the estate office with Mr. Whitford.
Clara insisted upon accompanying them, attended by Mrs. Porter and Mr. Pembroke.
Inside the office, they found opened drawers, scattered papers, and an empty space where the principal strongbox ordinarily stood.
Julian examined the room.
“They have taken what they can.”
Mr. Whitford looked toward the copying press.
“Not everything.”
They spent the next hour securing documents.
Beneath a pile of survey maps, Clara discovered a packet of agreements bearing the signatures of investors in the Northmere Navigation Company.
Several promised handsome returns upon completion of the channel.
Sir Edmund Cross held a substantial interest.
Silas Vane held another.
And attached to the agreements was a memorandum concerning the Langley property.
Clara read it.
Her hands went cold.
Completion of the conveyance is essential. Without control of the meadow and water rights, the undertaking cannot proceed under the present terms. Failure to obtain the necessary signatures before Michaelmas may require repayment of advances already received.
She showed it to Julian.
He read the words slowly.
“They have already accepted money.”
“Yes.”
“Against rights they did not possess.”
Clara nodded.
Mr. Whitford examined the paper.
Then looked grave.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “have promised investors property belonging to a lady who has not consented to sell it.”
Julian's expression hardened.
“And intended to obtain her consent by arranging her marriage.”
The solicitor nodded.
Clara looked toward the window.
She could finally see the scheme.
The forged letters had not been intended to prevent the marriage.
They had been intended to make the marriage miserable before it began.
To persuade both parties that affection was impossible.
To ensure that they accepted the arrangement as a financial necessity rather than a personal choice.
And, above all, to discourage conversation.
Sir Edmund had wanted Clara to marry a duke she believed cold and unapproachable.
He had wanted Julian to marry a woman he believed tiresome and unreasonable.
Then he intended to place a document between them, dressed in the language of prudent settlement, and obtain signatures from two people who had been taught not to trust one another.
Clara felt sick.
For years, she had believed Sir Edmund cared for her.
Now she understood that he had regarded her chiefly as the means of completing a profitable transaction.
Julian saw the change in her face.
He moved closer.
“Clara.”
She looked at him.
“I trusted him.”
“I know.”
“He knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“He sat beside my father's bed when he was dying.”
Julian said nothing.
Clara pressed her lips together.
“He promised to look after me.”
Julian reached for her hand.
“He should have kept that promise.”
She looked down.
For one brief moment, she allowed herself to lean into the comfort of his presence.
Then she straightened.
“What happens now?”