The Duke’s Guests Laughed as the Maid Fell Into the Lake — She Said, “I’ll Remember Every Face”
Chapter 26
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"Good morning, Mr. Crane," he said cheerfully. "My name is Daniel Brody of the Bow Street Runners in London. I've been looking forward to meeting you."Silas let go of Clara's arm and spun around.From behind every gravestone in the churchyard, men stood up: six of them, eight, ten constables in dark uniforms with clubs in their hands. Before either of the ushers could take a step, they were thrown face down in the grass with their arms twisted behind their backs. Silas Crane ran. He got as far as the churchyard gate before two constables brought him down like a fox in the hunt.Clara stood alone beside the carriage. She did not understand anything; she was shaking from head to toe.Mr. Brody took off his hat to her and smiled kindly. "Miss Doyle," he said, "His Grace asked me to give you a message. He says he is very sorry for what he had to say in there, and he asks if you would be so kind as to come back inside."The great church doors opened again. This time, the guests did not laugh. They watched in stunned silence as a procession came down the aisle: first, two constables dragging Silas Crane in iron handcuffs, his thin face gray with fear; then the two ushers, also in irons; then Mr. Brody of Bow Street; and then, behind them, Clara. She was still soaked, still muddy, still bleeding, but she walked down that aisle with her back straight, and every person in the church looked at her differently now.Lord Vane had risen to his feet. His face had gone the color of old candle wax. "Thomas," he said, "what is the meaning of this? What are these men doing here?"The Duke reached inside his wedding coat. Slowly, he drew out an old yellow sheet of paper and held it up so that everyone could see."Four nights ago," he said, "I found this hidden in my father's old horse's stall. Miss Doyle found it first, in a secret drawer in my father's desk. She hid it to keep it safe. It is the last letter my father ever wrote. He wrote it the night before he died." He looked straight at Lord Vane. "It says that E.V. had been stealing from this family for years—thousands of pounds—and that the next morning, after his ride, my father was going to confront him." The Duke's voice did not shake. "He never got the chance."A great murmur swept through the church."That's absurd!" Lord Vane said. "E.V. could be anyone! This is a forgery! The girl wrote it herself!""My mother does not think so."The Dowager Duchess rose from the front pew. She leaned on her silver stick, and her thin old face was like stone. "I would know my husband's hand anywhere, Edmund," she said. "And for these last four days, two lawyers from London have been sitting in my son's study, going through every page of the estate accounts you kept for us while Thomas was a boy. Every page you never let anyone see." Her eyes were terrible. "They found it all. Every stolen penny. Fifteen years of it."