by Karen Lynne
Someone murdered his brother.
He didn’t remember the return home as he moved through the front entrance. Henrietta was playing somber songs on the pianoforte. The plodding melody seemed darker than before as he thought of Daniel’s premature death.
He retreated to his study, shutting the door behind him, blocking out the music. He leaned his back against the door for several minutes, staring at the desk his brother had occupied only a week ago.
Daniel was murdered. The dreadful thought forming in his head. Who would murder his brother?
Walter flinched at the thought of anyone wishing that kind of harm to his brother. He could think of no one who would have done it or wished him dead.
He found the strength to move to the desk where a new stack of letters awaited him. Walter found a letter opener and methodically began slicing them open one by one. Would he find a clue in Daniel’s correspondence?
The first was from Mr. Welch. As promised, he had sent new details of the Vanderbilt case. He hinted that Walter should be there no later than next Friday—giving him only a week to finish sorting through Daniel’s mess of affairs. One week to investigate Daniel’s murder.
Shuddering, Walter tucked Mr. Welch’s letter into his pocket so he might study the new case details later that evening.
He opened the second letter—an invoice from the wine merchant. Walter stared at the requested amount, his mind blanking. Who spent such an exorbitant amount on wine? Someone who wanted to drown the world out. Someone who was frightened. Did Daniel suspect ill will toward him?
Walter set aside the invoice and opened another letter. Another invoice, this one from the tailor. The payment was long overdue. He shoved aside the rest of the letters, refusing to open another. Leaning his elbows on the desk, he dug his fingers into his hair, closing his eyes.
Daniel had been murdered. He couldn’t get the thought from his head.
What was the motive? Had his brother been foolish enough to get into debt with dangerous men? Walter opened his eyes and gazed at the pile of bills again. The way he’d been spending money, it wouldn’t surprise him.
“Daniel, what have you done?” Walter murmured, rubbing at his eyes.
Walter straightened in his chair, a sudden fire in his gut. He only had a week before he would return to London. He’d be hanged if he spent it wallowing in questions, not actively searching for answers. The first thing he needed to do was cut expenses.
Immediately.
He pulled out a pack of financial records and once again began shuffling through them, making a pile of expenses that were necessary and a pile they could do without. He had no choice but to talk with his mother tomorrow about the situation, but he’d come up with a plan to resolve things first.
He caught notice of recent additions to the household servants as he filed through the accounts. Walter’s brows furrowed, thinking it reckless to hire on additional help when they already couldn’t afford to keep on those they had. Daniel had hired two new servants—a groom and house maid.
Walter ignited in confusion and frustration. Why did Daniel feel the need to hire a second man when Benjamin was more than capable of handling four horses on his own? He made a note to let the new groomsman go today. The only useful thing he had likely managed was helping haul the mangled carriage to the blacksmith.
Walter froze, staring at the document, his vision losing focus.
Two men had been around to prepare Daniel’s carriage. One of them must have noticed suspicious behavior… or worse.
Darting to his feet, Walter rushed out the study door, nearly trampling his mother who stood in the corridor.
“Walter!” his mother looked him up and down. “Are you well? You look flushed.”
Walter gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. He couldn’t tell her about his recent discoveries. Not yet.
“I’ve some urgent business to attend to,” he said, as he stuck a hand in his pocket, feeling the pearl earrings he’d forgotten.
He shuffled his feet nervously, wondering what he should do with them. A last gift from his brother might be a comfort to her.
“I have a gift from Daniel.” He drew out the earrings and presented them to her, noting her reaction.
His mother’s face fell as she studied the earrings.
“Oh, Walter… they’re beautiful, but Daniel has given me too much already. And frankly—” She paused, offering a sweet smile, one that Walter tried and failed to return. “I fear we cannot afford such extravagance,” her eyes held concern.
He nodded to her, grateful she seemed to grasp the trouble they were in.
“I am looking into the accounts and am doing my best to keep us above water.”
His mother seemed to relax, and he was glad he had not talked to her sooner about the situation. If things became worse, he would inform her of their predicament, but only if he must.
Daniel had fallen for Mr. Scott’s schemes over and over again, it seemed, and he was beginning to wonder about Daniel’s true capacity to run the house properly.
He gave her another quick kiss before leaving for the stables. He found Benjamin sitting in the afternoon sun. The old groom moved to his feet as Walter approached.
“Good day to you, sir,” he said. “How can I be of assistance?”
“Is the groom Daniel hired a month ago here?”
Benjamin nodded. “In with the horses,” he nodded toward a stall. “We’ve been taking turns, switching duties every other day,” he grinned. “We have treated your horses like kings since they hired George.”
Walter thanked Benjamin, trying to wipe the scowl off his face as he entered the stable where George was brushing Apollo.
The new boy bowed as Walter walked in, not uttering a word.
Walter eyed the boy. He was young—perhaps not fifteen. Dark hair slicked back, revealing dark eyes. The young man averted his gaze, his focus on brushing the horse.
“I understand you are the new hire,” Walter said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Were you the one who hitched the carriage the day my brother died?”
The boy hesitated. “Yes, sir.”
Walter picked his next words carefully. “Is there anything I should know? Have you seen any suspicious characters around?”
The groom’s brows pulled together. “Sir?”
Walter stared hard at the young man, gauging his body language, the flicker of his eyes. “My brother’s carriage failed a week ago. I have reason to suspect foul play. Someone has tampered with the carriage. It may have been the day my brother took it out. Would you know anything of it?”
The groom shook his head, his eyes wide. “No, sir. Honest, sir, I’ve seen only Benjamin and myself.”
Walter grit his teeth. “What’s your name?”
“George, sir.”
“How is it you came across this job, George?”
George absently ran a hand along the stallion’s chestnut coat. “I applied to the house, sir. My family needed the income. I had good references. Mr. Longman said he liked my character well enough. Said if Apollo liked me, so did he.”
Walter examined the stallion before turning his eyes back to the young groom.
“You’re sure you didn’t see anything strange just before my brother’s death?”
“No, sir,” George paused. His hand frozen on Apollo’s flank. “Only… I caught a maid and the groundskeeper in the stable the night before.”
Walter’s stomach churned. “Did you?”
“Yes. They were…” George shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Quite friendly with each other, sir.”
Walter sighed. There wasn’t anything suspicious about that, he supposed. Still, he asked George for a description of the maid—short, with mousy hair. Walter felt satisfied that he had gleaned all he could from the young man.
Walter suddenly felt tired, but didn’t want to return to the house to be reminded of his brother’s death, the mountain of debt hanging over the household,
and his sister’s morose music.
He looked at Apollo, his fists tightening. “George, would you saddle the stallion?” He needed a good, hard ride to clear his mind.
Within the hour, he was on Apollo’s back, feeling some control again. He pushed the horse faster, giving Apollo his head, galloping over the estate, veering east—toward the Hawthorn house.
As he passed, his thoughts turned to Patience and to her mother, who hated him because he was a working gentleman. Did Mrs. Hawthorn even consider him a gentleman, now that he worked for his living? Did he dare bring Patience into a household so burdened with debt?
He galloped, letting the scenery blur into oblivion. How had his life become so tangled in such a short time? And how was he ever to get out of it?
Chapter 8
Patience could no longer sit around the house, worrying about how Walter was faring, especially after finding out about his brother’s debts and the pressure he was under to get back to his case in London. Though it hurt to lose him so soon after their misunderstandings were resolved, the knowledge he still loved her gave her hope.
She set out for a walk even though it felt like rain. She looked up at the gray sky, tasting the humid air. The wind whipped at her hair as her feet carried her past the gardens, the stables, and over the hill near her parents’ property. She found the familiar dirt road that took her to the edge of the Longman estate. A mile and a half later, she came across the familiar cropping of trees and the low stone wall that marked the Longman’s property.
She hesitated, looking past the wall and at the estate’s fields, golden with dry wheat ready to harvest. Cattle and sheep dotted the rolling hills while thunder rumbled above her. Her mind made up, she sat on the waist-high stone wall. Lifting her skirts, she swung her legs over. She continued on her journey across the estate’s lands, breathing in the scent of wet earth and listening to the twittering of birds looking for their own shelter.
Her excursion wasn’t purely out of curiosity. She had stayed up long into the night, thinking about the mangled carriage. Walter had said he wanted to discover why the carriage had failed, killing his brother. She wondered if perhaps anyone nearby knew any details they might keep from him.
If Mrs. Longman found her — Patience put the thought from her mind. She liked Walter’s mother and believed the lady was fond of her, despite her own mother.
Henrietta, his sister, was the kindest person in Wallingford. Though things had been awkward between the three of them since Patience’s mother had refused Walter. Patience had only conversed once with them after their fallout, and that was only because she’d run into them in town.
The Longmans no longer invited her to their estate for social gatherings, and her mother continued to exclude the Longmans from her own picnics and parties. Patience didn’t understand why her mother had never connected with them. It was unusual for influential families in the same neighborhood to be so distant.
Patience felt the squish of earth beneath her feet. Mud covered her boots as she stepped into the soft earth. She continued to pick her way across the grassy field. Grazing cattle lifted their heads, watching as she passed. The first light raindrops tickled her nose, wetting her cheekbones. She crested a hill and spotted a farmer’s cottage. Beyond that, she could just make out the top of Walter’s house, dipping past another green hill. She walked forward, planning to talk with the stable hands, inquiring about the state of the carriage before it had wrecked.
Five steps later, thunder clapped, opening the sky as pouring rain dropped onto the countryside. Lifting her arms over her head, she tried to keep the rain from her eyes. By the time she made it to the stables, she would be utterly soaked. But turning toward home would be just as miserable.
She licked her lips, tasting the chilly rain. She could see a cottage in the distance where she could seek shelter until the rain passed.
Patience lifted her skirts and ran, her boots squelching in the mud. She felt her curls coming loose from her bonnet, but she ignored it, focusing on getting to the cottage before she was completely drenched.
Arriving at the doorstep nearly soaked through, she knocked and waited, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes. A curtain moved in the window as someone peered out. Within moments, the door flung wide. Before she could speak, a short, round woman was pulling her inside.
“My dear, what are you doing out in this weather?” She looked her up and down. “You’ll catch your death.”
Patience took a moment to catch her breath. “I’m sorry. I was just passing by and… thank you for letting me inside. I didn’t expect such a downpour.”
The woman clucked her tongue. “Let me get you a towel to dry yourself.” The woman’s eyes shot downward. “Look at the state of your shoes!”
Patience stood by the doorway as the woman whisked away to the kitchen for the towel. A light rustling sounded to Patience’s right, and she looked around to see two small girls peeking out from a room. They disappeared, giggling when she caught sight of them.
The woman returned, waving a threadbare towel. “Here,” she said, handing it to Patience. “Clean up as best you can.”
“Thank you.” She sopped her hair, squeezing it between her fingers while looking about the cottage. It was a cozy space, with a kitchen, dining area, and two bedrooms.
“I’m Patience Hawthorn. May I ask your name?” If the woman recognized her name, she didn’t show it.
“Marcy Brown,” she said. “My husband is Jeremy Brown. He’s out tending to the pigs, I believe. He’d better be in the barn, or that man will go to an early grave.”
Patience smiled, glancing toward the bedroom where the young girls had disappeared. “And you have children?”
“Yes, Lily and Rose.” Mrs. Brown smiled. “Go ahead and remove your shoes. I just cleaned the floors this week.”
Patience obeyed, unlacing her boots and sliding them off. Thankfully, her stockings were still dry. She moved further into the cottage as Mrs. Brown offered her a seat at the dining room table.
“You’re on the Longman estate, you know,” Mrs. Brown said.
“Yes. I am a… friend of Walter Longman.”
Mrs. Brown shook her head. “Poor boy. Making his way in London and then called back home over the tragic death. Now he’ll have all those debts to worry about.”
Patience froze, freshly seated. “Debts?” How was this woman so acquainted with Walter’s personal business?
Mrs. Brown sat across from her. “We’ve heard all the gossip around town. Seems his accounts are overdue,” she said in a low voice, almost distraught. “It only makes sense that they can’t afford to keep up the estate much longer.”
Patience couldn’t believe Walter’s family business was known so widely throughout the village. Did her mother know? Maybe this was why she’d been so obstinate in her refusal of Walter. Perhaps she thought him a fortune hunter.
She tried to tell herself it wasn’t her concern. And yet, it was. Her mother knew their feelings toward each other. Knew they had been inseparable since their youth. Walter was not after her parents’ money.
“It’s been hard on us,” Mrs. Brown continued. “We lived comfortably enough with our farm, but now that the estate is in trouble, we’re unsure if a new owner will be as good to us. The rents are low here, and we’re established. There’s no telling what a new owner will do. He puts us all at risk with the few families lucky enough to live on his land.” She shook her head as she glanced back at the room where the girls were hiding. “I’m worried for our children. This farm has always been our home.”
New owners? Would Walter have to sell the estate? Her heart flipped. This would make matters worse with her mother. How would she ever consent to their marriage if Walter was forced to sell the estate?
Patience felt for the woman and her family. “I’m sorry to hear it. I can tell Mr. Longman of your concerns. I know him to be generous and caring,” she said, her voice soft. She thought of her own family, who had more than
enough to help Walter if they joined their families. “I don’t live far, and we’ve been close friends our whole lives. He’ll understand your fear.”
“Bless you, child,” Mrs. Brown said. “I wouldn’t want to burden you.”
Patience shook her head. “No burden at all.”
She remained with Mrs. Brown, helping her wash dishes and knead bread while they waited for the storm to pass. Lily and Rose crept from their room, helping knead the dough, giggling and laughing at Patience's lack of skill. Mrs. Brown frowned at her daughters and showed Patience how it was done.
The rain passed as suddenly as it began and Patience left, having gained new friends, and promised to talk with Walter of the tenants’ concerns with a new resolve to help. She wasn’t ready to return home, her mind was full of Walter and his brother’s death. She would help him, feeling a little hurt that he wouldn’t trust her help.
Had he learned anything from the blacksmith? If she was going to help solve the mystery, she needed to know everything he did.
Strengthening her resolve, Patience cut back toward town, knowing she looked a mess from the earlier rain. She avoided the puddles, but the mud was unavoidable in places. Lifting her skirts, she trudged on. Her mother would be angry if she ruined this dress.
Her boots were caked with the wet earth by the time she reached the blacksmith. Not caring what people thought, she pushed forward. She heard her name before entering Mr. Tate’s place. Turning, her heart leaped into her throat as she sighted Walter striding towards her, his long coat unfurling around his legs, his face grim. He didn’t say a word as he reached her and took her arm, pulling her away from the blacksmith’s.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low as he continued to steer her forward down the boardwalk.
“I wanted to know what the blacksmith found about the carriage,” she said, holding her head high.
He groaned. “Patience, why won’t you listen? This is none of your concern.”
“Why won’t you let me help?” she demanded. “A year ago, you would have.”
Walter stopped, turning to face her. She waited, her heart beating fast against her chest.