by Janet Woods
What else could she say but, ‘Please accept it as a gift.’
‘You’re so generous, Clementine. It’s lovely having a sister. Come and kiss my cheek.’
Sister or not, the last thing she wanted to do was kiss Alexandra’s cheek, but thus summoned, Clementine found herself obliged to pay homage to the woman. The urge to bite her was nearly overwhelming. Goodness, she was turning into a cannibal.
‘What are you contributing to our little concert tonight, dear?’ Alexandra said, oozing sweetness.
Mostly, she’d be playing the ugly sister to Alexandra’s Cinderella, she suspected. ‘Oh … I don’t have your talent, Alexandra.’
‘No … I don’t suppose you do, having spent most of your life in a charitable institution.’
‘My father … Howard Morris paid for my education.’
‘Ah yes … our mutual father. Not a man to boast about. What did you do before you were left at the school; did your mother have a profession?’
Clementine felt uncomfortable. ‘My mother could sing, so she was employed to entertain.’
‘Did she sing well?’
‘To me she had the best voice in the world, but I was young and she was my mother and I loved her, so I was biased. I’m glad I knew her, even for a short time.’
‘Perhaps it’s better not to delve too deeply into one’s background. Wouldn’t it be awful if we’d been born to a felon, or worse.’
She couldn’t help but say, ‘One of us was, I believe.’
A huff of laughter came from Zachariah.
Hastily, Alexandra said, ‘Well, never mind, it’s not really a suitable subject for the drawing room.’
‘I’m glad you’ve reminded us,’ Julia said drily, her voice barely audible when Alexandra ran her fingers up and down the keys.
‘I was going to ask you to turn the music sheets for me for this first piece, Clementine, but obviously you can’t read music. What a shame. My foster mother and father said it was an essential part of a young woman’s social education.’
‘Along with good manners, I presume.’
Alexandra ignored Julia’s barbed comment and her eyes alighted on Zachariah, who held up his hands in a defensive pushing motion. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have many social niceties either. I can dance a little, though I broke a few of Julia’s toes in the process of learning.’
Alexandra dipped her eyelashes at him, to no effect. There was a satisfaction in the fact that Zachariah didn’t respond to Alexandra’s witchery.
His eyes engaged hers and with a twitch of the eyebrow he said, ‘Should Alexandra decide to play a waltz I shall expect you to partner me, Clemmie. We’ll dance around the room and pretend we’re at a ball.’
Lord, he certainly knew how to make a woman feel alive … well, it was more hot and bothered and itchy than alive, she supposed, like a dog with fleas. Was this what drawing-room conversation was all about – flirting with each other? She wondered what he’d do if she joined in. Experimentally she tried to flutter her eyelashes like Alexandra did … a series of fast blinks really. But hers were less than subtle.
Zachariah laughed, and said, ‘Do you have dust in your eyes again, Clemmie?’
A petulant voice broke in. ‘I don’t think I know any waltzes.’
‘Then we’ll waltz to a marching tune, or to no tune at all – since we are both beginners.’
Julia rose and crossed to the piano. ‘I’ll turn the sheets for you. Shall we get on with it, Alexandra, else it will soon be time to waltz off to bed? Zachariah’s man, Evan, has offered to do a reading from The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare, with some card tricks to follow. I’m so looking forward to it. He used to be in the theatre, you know.’
The door slowly opened and a man stood framed in the doorway. He had a stooped back, a shock of red hair and a hooked nose.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ Julia shrieked and threw the piano music at him.
The noise woke the dogs, who decided to be heroes and barked ferociously at each other. Then Happy grabbed the man by one of his trouser legs and Wolf’s teeth closed around the other one. Sorted out, they began to worry the man’s ankles, making snarling noises.
‘So much for Shylock,’ Zachariah said, doubling up with laughter. ‘A memorable performance indeed, Evan.’
‘Call off the hounds, would you? They’re insane. Still, they would be useful if you trained them.’
‘Why … if it isn’t Evan,’ Julia said, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘What an absolutely terrifying disguise; you’re lucky someone didn’t shoot you.’
Clementine giggled. ‘It’s not All Hallows Eve by any chance, is it?’ She called the dogs off. Panting heavily they looked up at her as if waiting for a reward.
‘Good dogs,’ she said and patted them both. When Happy rolled on his back with his legs in the air, they began laughing all over again.
Alexandra tutted and, picking up the music, she began to play.
Sixteen
Cheeves look flustered when Zachariah and John appeared on his doorstep.
‘My pardon for calling at such an early hour; I need to speak to you on a matter of some urgency.’
‘Come in out of the cold, sirs. The fire is burning in my study, so we can talk there … though I am expecting an acquaintance to call within the hour.’
Mrs Cheeves was hovering in the background. ‘May I offer you refreshment … some coffee perhaps?’
Zachariah shook his head. ‘Thank you, Mrs Cheeves; we’ve already breakfasted, and this is a business matter rather than a social one.’
Cheeves dismissed his wife with a flick of his hand and opened his study door, saying expansively, ‘Come in, come in, gentlemen.’
When they were settled, Cheeves leaned back in the chair behind his desk and smiled from one to another. ‘I don’t usually conduct business at home, but will stretch a point on this occasion.’
John spoke. ‘I think you’ll be thankful you did. How well do you know George Sheridan?’
His smile faded. ‘It would be bad for the bank if I discussed a client’s business.’
‘It may be worse for your business and your character if you don’t, Mr Cheeves.’
‘Oh?’ Cheeves picked up a paperknife, fiddling with it for a moment as he considered it. Then he looked up at them. ‘Very well; I will take it without saying that what’s discussed in here will remain private.’
Zachariah took over. ‘We have reason to believe the man who calls himself George Sheridan is obtaining money by fraudulent means.’
Cheeves paled. ‘Surely not, sir. He was introduced to me by my own son.’
‘We cannot be certain, so we’re here to caution you on the matter. Let me relate certain circumstances to you. A Mr Sheridan and a woman claiming to be his wife arrived from Australia with my brother’s two children. They claimed to be the children’s godparents. The children were ill, and they were frightened of their own shadows. However, that’s by the by. I’m indebted to Miss Morris for her excellent care of the children.’
‘Quite … goes without saying, a charming young lady,’ George mumbled, slightly red-faced.
‘Believe me when I tell you that Miss Morris is very highly valued by my household. As for George Sheridan, I believe him to be a skilled confidence trickster. He certainly had me fooled to begin with, but he overplayed his hand when the matter of the legacy came to light. I would not be surprised if your son found him plausible, and as a matter of courtesy young Mr Cheeves’ name need not be mentioned as being involved.’
Having pushed his point home, Zachariah nodded to John. ‘Perhaps you’d be kind enough to finish.’
‘George Sheridan spent an outrageous amount of money conveying Mr Fleet’s nephew and niece from Australia, with nothing except the children themselves to account for it. They also presented several large amounts in the form of IOUs signed by the late baron, which may or may not have been fraudulent. Sheridan claimed to have paid for the couple to be interred after t
hey met with a fatal accident. In short, he claimed a large amount of money without receipt – money Mr Fleet paid on trust because he knew his brother to be a gambler and unreliable where money was concerned.’
‘I understand, Mr Beck. I was quite familiar with Sir Gabriel’s habits and foibles. He certainly lived life to the full with little care for the future, if you’ll pardon me for saying so. I have yet to see what this has to do with me though.’
‘Hear me out and we will come to that, sir. We had, and still have, no reason or proof to believe the Sheridans are anything other than what they presented. What we do believe is that the couple befriended the late baron and his wife and extracted information from them that could be used to their own advantage.’
‘Such as?’
‘A little while ago they contacted Mr Fleet’s guest, Miss Tate, with regards to a legacy that might have been left to her in her grandmother’s will. That information could only have come from the mouth of my brother, or more likely, from Alice, his wife, since the legacy concerns the female side of the family.
‘Or it could have come from the man who prepared the will in the first place, using his knowledge of my brother’s family and their friends. George Sheridan parted a sick old man from his life savings. The man died a pauper, leaving Miss Tate in straitened circumstances.’
‘But Miss Tate has the grandmother’s legacy to look forward to. Eight thousand pounds, we’re given to understand.’
Zachariah and John gazed at each other, then John said, ‘Such an amount is a gross exaggeration of the facts. It seems that Miss Tate has been fostered with expectations beyond her station or means. The existence of a possible legacy has gone to her head if she imagines it is anything near that sum.’
Cheeves gazed his way. ‘I see. I don’t suppose you’d tell me what the girl is worth. My son has shown an interest there so I must caution him not to be rash. If it’s worthwhile he’ll do the right thing, of course, and ask your permission.’
‘In the first place you suppose right. In the second, I’d like to point out that my responsibility for Miss Tate only goes as far as it would for any other guest in my home. Miss Tate is not my ward and can only claim a slight family connection, and certainly not one of blood with the male line. We don’t even know if Miss Tate is the true beneficiary of the will yet … another with an equally legitimate claim is waiting to be proven.’
‘Do you have solid grounds to think the George Sheridan of the charitable trust is the same trickster?’
‘All we’re saying is that it’s someone with the same name. It was only by chance that the name was seen on your music programme by someone who’d met him before. Then again, he might not be the same George Sheridan. I would have to see him to be sure.’
‘Then I would be obliged if you would remain. He is coming to collect the money shortly, since he wishes to catch the stagecoach from Dorchester. In view of what has been said here, would you be interested in staying and identifying him if necessary? We can then see what eventuates.’
‘I’d consider it my duty. My friend and business partner John Beck isn’t known to him and can be by your side offering you support while I seat myself in the shadows in that wing chair and observe him.
‘In the meantime I would suggest that you select two or three local charities where the collected money can be donated. I will double the amount if you will agree to forgo your commission for the event. It will be good for your business for you to be seen as a generous benefactor in the district, and will redeem your reputation if need be. We will see what comes of it.’
Cheeves nodded and rose to his feet, looking agitated. ‘I must instruct my wife not to answer the door herself, and tell the housekeeper to bring George Sheridan straight in. And I’ll have your coachman take your carriage round to the back in case he recognizes it. Will he be armed, do you think?’
‘I doubt it, since he won’t be expecting trouble.’
‘I hope Cheeves has the wit to carry this off,’ John murmured when the banker left the room.
‘Oh, I imagine so. He’s got much more than money to lose if he doesn’t … namely his reputation.’
Sheridan was not long in coming. His wife was with him, but remained in the cab. She gazed towards the house, her bonneted head with its ringlets of bright hair framed by the window, and her presence lending Sheridan an appearance of respectability. This was not the same woman who had come ashore with him.
Gazing at Cheeves, Zachariah nodded. ‘It’s the same man, and his wife is with him. He’s left her waiting in the cab, so he doesn’t intend to stay here long.’
Zachariah slid into his wing chair where he was partially concealed, while John took up a stance on the other side of Cheeves to draw the man’s gaze away from him.
George Sheridan was in a hurry. His sharp gaze dusted over John, then went back to Cheeves. ‘We’d agreed not to involve anyone else.’
‘I thought better of it. This is my legal advisor, John Beck, and he has instructed me not to hand over the proceeds from the social evening.’
Since Cheeves was shaking like a jellyfish and his voice had taken on a noticeable vibrato, Zachariah could only admire the small amount of courage he’d dredged up to speak at all. If he’d had any doubts about the man’s honesty before in this matter he now discarded them. Cheeves didn’t have the guts to involve himself in a fraud such as this.
‘Why the devil not?’ Sheridan said, anger to the foremost. ‘We agreed that you should take your commission and I would distribute what was left through my charity trust. Where are the proceeds?’
John took over. ‘Ah yes … the charity trust. I’m given to understand no trust actually exists – at least, not locally.’
‘I haven’t opened the trust account yet. I was about to use the donations Mr Cheeves collected from his musical afternoon to create the trust with.’
‘And who will be your signatories to the account? Is Mr Cheeves to know who they are and who will benefit from the exercise?’
‘I have business partners in London.’
‘I very much doubt it, since it’s only a few months since you stepped ashore after a voyage from Australia. I’ve advised Mr Cheeves to distribute the money he collected to charities in the district – and to pass the money through his bank so there is a clear record of its passage.’
‘To that end Mr Cheeves has generously donated his commission,’ Zachariah said.
Mr Cheeves looked surprised and opened his mouth as if to speak. Then he closed it again in a resigned manner.
At the sound of Zachariah’s voice Sheridan had spun around. His face turned blotchy and he blustered, ‘Oh … it’s you, Mr Fleet. I haven’t done anything wrong, you know.’
‘It’s not through lack of trying though, is it? I would suggest you leave now, Mr Sheridan. Your lady will be getting cold.’
Sheridan’s voice strengthened. ‘How are the children … no nasty little accidents, I hope? You have always been after the baronetcy, I believe. Now there’s only the boy to stand in your way.’
Fury was a quick, dark fire consuming Zachariah’s finer feelings. He drew in a deep, slow breath. ‘Edward has nothing to do with this. Gabe trusted me, and he knew I’d look after the children. He wrote to me.’
‘Yes … I read it. How pathetic of him. Your brother and his wife doted on those children, but they weren’t good parents. Gabe and Alice were a pair of leeches sucking on society and had more airs and graces than King William himself. They didn’t have friends, just hangers-on.’
‘Of which you were the biggest, I imagine. His letter said he didn’t quite trust you.’
‘The children were nasty, sly little liars, especially Edward, who had his father’s arrogance. They needed to be trained, and a good slap now and again brought them into line. We must drop in and visit them one day.’
‘You will not be allowed admittance to my home. The children are none of your business now.’
‘May I point out that
your brother appointed my wife and I as the children’s godparents. It’s our duty to visit them from time to time, to make sure they’re benefiting from a good spiritual education.’
‘And may I point out that Gabe is no longer here, so he has no say in the matter of the children’s education or anything else. In short, he has failed them in every way. And in the matter of his friends, any good sense he may have been born with deserted him if you’re an example. Personally, I wouldn’t appoint you to offer spiritual guidance to the occupants of a chicken pen trying to cross the road.’
Zachariah took a pistol out of the holster under his coat and laid it across the velvet cuff on his jacket, his thumb lightly resting on the priming pin. ‘Keep out of my life, the lives of my friends and acquaintances … and especially my wards. If I see you in the district again I’ll find an excuse to shoot you.’
‘Don’t be surprised if I swear out a complaint against you over the slur you’ve placed on my character.’
John smiled. ‘I’ll be quite happy to defend my clients, either before a magistrate at the assizes or at the old Bailey.’
A sneer crossed Sheridan’s face as he turned away. ‘Watch your back, Mr Fleet. Gabe had more enemies than he had friends.’
Friends who were so swollen up with hot air at being cheated out of their money that Zachariah had deflated them by promptly settling his brother’s debts. But Sheridan didn’t know that.
When the door slammed behind Sheridan there was a moment or two of silence, then John chuckled. ‘You’re formidable when you’re riled up, Zach. I thought you were going to shoot him out of hand.’
Zachariah grinned at him. ‘Who said I was riled up? The gun wasn’t loaded.’ He turned to Cheeves. ‘Has that convinced you of the man’s unreliable character, Mr Cheeves?’
The banker nodded, and his hands shook as he picked up the brandy decanter. He mopped his brow with a handkerchief. ‘I’m afraid I’m not as brave as you two gentlemen. Would you like to join me in a brandy while I sort the donations out? You could act as witness.’