by May Burnett
“Certainly not,” the physician replied at once. “There may be a superficial resemblance, but I have never seen this lady before in my life.” He put a sheaf of papers on the table and shoved them in the direction of Lord Ingleby. “Here are sworn affidavits from my staff and my wife, who could not travel so far, since we have other patients to care for.”
“If so,” Sir Henry inquired, “why were your niece’s whereabouts kept secret?”
“Need you ask? I hoped until the very last that the poor girl would be cured, and feared that news of her infirmity would reflect on the prospects of my own children.” The Earl scowled. “This spring I was told that she was much improved, and a first sortie into normal society might be risked. Her physician suggested Chatterham precisely because it is a quiet, sleepy place devoid of much social intercourse. That seemed safest, after being secluded for so long. The ‘companion’ was one of her regular attendants at the clinic. Alas, instead of further improvement poor Marian suffered a relapse, with fatal consequences.” The implication that his niece had taken her own life was unstated, but clear.
The Earl spoke with just the right mixture of exasperation and regret. Had she not known that he was lying, even Nell might have believed him. Where had he acquired such ease with fabrications and untruth? He and Robles must have practiced every word, as she had done with Sir Henry. Lord Ingleby seemed inclined to believe her uncle’s version, and glanced through the doctor’s documents with a grave expression. A bunch of lies … but they probably looked no different from the affidavits of her own side. Would the Viscount be able to discern truth from falsehood? What would become of her and Thomas if they lost? She must not show her concern outwardly, but she could feel her muscles tensing.
The argument continued to and fro. Her mother’s jewels, and a miniature of her grandmother wearing the heart-shaped ruby pendant, were produced as tangible evidence. Lord Colville claimed that the jewels must have been stolen. The seal with the seashell device was produced and studied.
“As we stated in our depositions, Lady Marian used this seal to send letters on parchment to the Prime Minister Lord Melbourne, and the Home Secretary, Lord John Russell, at the time of her flight,” Sir Henry said. “We included the approximate wording of those letters. Have they been found?”
Lord Ingleby frowned. “The Prime Minister’s office said that if such a letter had been received in Lord Melbourne’s time, it was no longer in their files. As for the Home Office, they claimed that there might have been such a letter, but it was unfortunately destroyed some time ago. Too bad.”
“My lord,” Sir Valentine Richardson said respectfully, “I believe there may have been a third letter. May I ask the young lady to whom it was addressed?”
Everyone looked at Nell.
“To her Majesty, the Queen,” she said. “Is it possible that it still exists?”
“I have it here.” Sir Valentine produced a familiar envelope from the back pages of his notebook.
“What did you write to her Majesty?” Lord Ingleby asked Nell.
The letter had been similar to the other two, if more respectfully worded. She repeated it verbatim.
“I can attest to it that this letter, written on parchment, was received at Kensington Palace on April 27st, 1838,” Sir Valentine stated, handing the document to Lord Ingleby. “There is no possible way that an impostor could have known its contents.”
“Do you have an explanation for this, Colville?” the Viscount asked sternly. He looked at the letter, and compared the seal to the ring from which it came. “That is not the traditional seal of the Colvilles, which I understand to be a falcon.”
Lord Colville shrugged. “Most strange. We do use the sea shell for private correspondence,” he admitted grudgingly. “My late brother had such a ring, but it would be easy to counterfeit.”
“It could not be counterfeited four years ago, before anyone knew your niece would supposedly drown,” Sir Henry pointed out. “Who is really buried in the Colville family crypt?”
Lord Colville glared at him.
“Since you are not willing to supply the answer, I shall have to do so,” Sir Henry said cordially. “Mr. Hendrickson here has discovered that the body in your Crypt is that of a woman in her thirties, with badly worn teeth and calluses on her fingers. He inspected it in the presence of a physician, – here is the affidavit, and Doctor Rosely is ready and willing to testify himself, if required.” He handed yet another document to Lord Ingleby. “I suggest that Mr. Hendrickson himself tell us where the body came from.”
“Very well,” Ingleby said, nodding at the investigator. “Where do you think you are going?” The physician Colville had brought from Yorkshire, – was he even a bona fide doctor? – had risen and tried to leave unobtrusively, while everyone was focusing on Hendrickson.
“My lord, I didn’t think my presence was required any more…”
“Since recent testimony has thrown grave doubt upon your veracity, you will stay until we have got to the bottom of this muddle.” Ingleby glanced at the pair of tall, impassive footmen standing by the door. “Nobody is to leave without my say-so.”
Doctor Reynolds slunk back to his seat dejectedly. Robles glared daggers at him.
Hendrickson described how he had followed a tip from one of the Colville servants, whom he refused to name, and discovered the identity of the corpse as the late Theresa Jones, who had died in a workhouse of lung disease after three decades of grinding poverty. He had hired a local physician, Doctor Roseley, to inspect the body.
“Disinterring a body without permission, in a private chapel, is a crime,” Robles pointed out heatedly.
“But then so is swindling a ward out of her inheritance,” Sir Henry replied with a suave smile.
“Indeed,” Lord Ingleby said. “Colville, I fear the facts are against you. It seems incredible that a fellow peer would so far forget himself as to fake the death of his ward, and pretend she was mad and secluded when she had fled from him years earlier. Have you anything to say for yourself, before I report my conclusions to the Prime Minister?”
Lord Colville shrugged. “It was my late brother’s mistake to leave his fortune to a mere schoolgirl. Anyone would have acted as I did.”
Ingleby frowned at him. “You owe your niece, Lady Marian, and her new family an apology as well as a thorough accounting for her fortune.” From the sickly pallor of Robles’ face, Nell wondered if some of that fortune had found its way into the solicitor’s pockets.
No matter. There should be plenty left for Thomas and her.
Once Lord Ingleby and the opposing party had left the library, Thomas took her by the waist and swung her about in celebration, ending with an exuberant kiss. “Congratulations, my lady!”
“Thank you for everything,” she said, her voice unsteady with emotion. “Thank you, Sir Henry, and Mr. Hendrikson.” She looked around and saw Sir Valentine observe her and Thomas with an indulgent smile.
“Thank you, Sir, for coming to my aid. Without that letter, I don’t know if we could have won.”
“It was Prince Albert who sent me to observe the proceedings,” the young man explained. “I have the honour to be one of his equerries. Her Majesty had kept your letter, but Lord Melbourne had convinced her that it was of no importance. Prince Albert persuaded her to release it; he also recalled the nickname of your late grandmother.”
“Please include my most fervent gratitude for his help in your report.”
“With pleasure, but you can tell him yourself, my lady. Now that you are restored to your position, it should not be long before you make your bow before her Majesty.”
Chapter 28
Hours after the meeting in Lord Ingleby’s house, the whole family was still celebrating. The Amberleys and their in-laws Lord and Lady Pell had come to join in the general triumph, and were busy discussing how best to introduce Nell to London society. A ball in her honour, or a more restricted, exclusive event that could be organised within a week? N
ell had no preference, having no experience of social life as these ladies knew it. Until she had acclimatised to what should have been her natural milieu, she was content to leave such decisions to the experts.
“There is a lady – a woman – asking for you most particularly, my lady,” the butler reported to her in a low voice, so as not to interrupt the discussion of the noble guests. “Will you consent to see her?”
Nell looked at Thomas in surprise. Journalists and curious persons of both sexes tried to see her at all hours since her identity had become public. The butler had shielded her most efficiently. What was it about this person that made him think she ought to see her? She decided, once again, to trust the expert.
“Certainly – where is she?”
“I put her in the grey salon.”
“Very well.”
“I wonder who it can be?” Thomas held out his arm for her. They descended the broad stairway side by side. “I am almost glad of the silence out here,” Nell confided. “I am not yet used to such large family gatherings, though I enjoy them, particularly when everyone came to share our success.”
“They deserve to do so, since they all helped,” he agreed.
The grey salon on the ground floor, close to the entrance, held a thin, middle-aged woman in a worn grey walking dress. She looked at Nell’s face with painful intensity.
“Miss Minnow!” Nell impulsively hugged her former governess. “Thank you for coming!”
“I had to,” the governess said, a tear leaking from her shiny eyes, “though my current, or rather, most recent employer didn’t want me to leave. I had to renounce my position. But such lies were circulating about you! I could not stand by and do nothing. If anyone wants to doubt who you are, my lady, I can tell them the truth.” She sounded more resolute than Nell remembered ever seeing her timid governess. “And I know where your former servants are working now. They could not afford to come, but are very willing to attest to your identity.”
Nell and Thomas exchanged rueful glances. A day earlier this offer would have been most welcome.
“Thank you, Miss Minnow, I am grateful,” Nell said. “By the way, this is my husband, Mr. Thomas Seymour. Fortunately it you may not have to give your testimony; I have been able to prove my identity earlier today. You must stay with us, however, as my companion, until all is settled. I have often regretted the way my uncle dismissed you so summarily, and want to make up for his actions as soon as I have taken possession of my fortune.” Technically it was her husband’s fortune now, but he nodded approvingly at her words and smiled at Miss Minnow.
“We shall be moving into a house of our own presently, but let me look after you for now,” Thomas said, and rang for the butler, to arrange for accommodations. He was so practical as well as handsome - perfect in every respect. Miss Minnow was looking at him with a faint shadow of the admiration Nell felt whenever her eyes passed over his splendid form.
After seeing to Miss Minnow’s comfort and settling her in a guest room, they returned to the family gathering, walking slowly along the carpeted corridor. “So we shall be moving into our own house soon?” Nell asked Thomas. “I am glad to hear it, but would like some say in the matter.”
“Of course, love. There has not been time to discuss it, but your inheritance includes several houses in London. We shall have to see the exact list, when your Uncle disgorges everything, and then we’ll go together to choose. If you like none of them, we can buy or rent something else instead.”
“Will my uncle really hand over my fortune now, just like that?”
“According to Sir Henry and Uncle George, he has no choice. He’ll be very lucky to escape prosecution for what he did. I imagine that he will be allowed to hush matters up, to the extent possible, but he has no leg to stand on, if he tries to withhold your fortune, dear. We should get hold of it within days or at most weeks.”
“Good, because I shall need more clothes for all these balls and dinners and the presentation to her Majesty. They are not cheap.”
“Just send the bills to me as before – oh, of course. Pin money.” He kissed her hand. “I have been talking to Sir Henry about settlements, to secure your own fortune to you, whatever happens. I’ll set up your account at the same time. Will half of the total income be enough?”
“Let’s talk it over once we have the fortune in hand and see in what state it is – but I would like a say in how it is settled, even if the law does not provide for it.”
“Hang the law. It is your money, your inheritance. I consider myself your steward in administering it.”
There was no time to continue this satisfactory exchange, as they had reached the first-floor drawing room and were once more surrounded by relatives, all talking at once.
“How is your Ode to Nell coming along?” Thomas teased Roger, who groaned. “Don’t remind me. Versifying is much harder than I imagined. I have a new respect for all those poetical chaps who don’t think twice of making fools out of themselves with their lyrical effusions. I would like to just forget about it, but dozens of people have told me they are awaiting the result, curse them for unrepentant busybodies.”
“You can declaim the Ode at the ball I am giving for Nell in two weeks’ time,” Lady Amberley said. “It will be the comic highlight of the evening.”
“Just the role I always aspired to,” Roger grumbled. He looked at his smirking twin. “Your suggestion to go searching for new species in the wilds of the Congo sounds better all the time, Vi.”
“You can do that after I have heard your Ode,” she said, unmoved.
***
Two days later Robles was arrested. Nell and Thomas heard the particulars from Sir Henry in his drawing room, as they were served cups of Ceylon tea by his wife, Aunt Minerva.
“I fear he helped himself to some of your fortune,” Sir Henry explained. “Even if Lord Colville had noticed his depredations, he would not have been in any position to protest, since Robles knew too much. Robles clearly thought that as the mastermind behind the supposed drowning, he was entitled to help himself to a percentage of your money. Some has been recovered, but not all. It will take time to get to the bottom of everything.”
“What of Lord Colville?”
“For him this is advantageous, as he can throw the entire blame on Robles. He now maintains that he did not know of the substituted body, that Robles misled him all the time. Of course that is nonsense, as in that case he must have admitted your identity as soon as he saw you. But the government is inclined to let him get away with that version. I have an appointment with Lord Ingleby the coming week. Can I assure him that as long as you are fully recompensed, you will not insist on the prosecution of your uncle? I may be able to obtain some additional concession in exchange, with Amberley’s and Pell’s help. The government hates prosecutions in the House of Lords.”
Nell and Thomas exchanged questioning looks. What sort of concession did Sir Henry have in mind? Nell wanted her Uncle to receive his just deserts – but losing the greater part of his fortune, the political influence for which he had worked so many years and his reputation was already harsh punishment. She nodded reluctantly, and Thomas did the same. “What will happen to Robles?” she asked Sir Henry.
“He will hang or be transported, depending on the judge. It is an open-and-shut case; there is too much proof of his dishonesty. He should have fled while he still could. Judges tend to come down heavily on those who bring disrepute on the legal profession.”
“Good,” Nell said vindictively, remembering that nasty gag. “He would have killed me without a qualm, I am sure. Now we know why he was so motivated to catch me.”
“From the way he omitted to cover his tracks, until the end he must have been confident you would never become a problem,” Sir Henry said.
“Underestimating us women, as usual,” Lady Minerva observed drily. She topped up her husband’s and Nell’s teacups. “I agree that he deserves either of those verdicts. Does he have a family?”
> “No, which is just as well. Nobody else shares in his disgrace. He seems to have spent some of the stolen money on expensive courtesans.”
“Those will always find customers,” Thomas said with a shrug. “How much of a percentage are we talking of?”
“Nearly ten percent of all liquid funds. The estates and houses would have been harder to sell, without clear title. On the other hand, the accumulated income of the last five years was only partially spent, so overall your fortune is close to what it was at the time of the sixth earl’s sudden death. Lord Colville’s new solicitor went over the preliminary list with me yesterday afternoon.”
“What about those London houses?” Nell was looking forward to a household of her own. She would invite the former retainers of Colville Hall, whom her uncle had so cruelly ejected, to work for her.
“There are three possibilities, though two are currently rented out. But you can easily buy another that conforms exactly to your own needs and wishes. How big are you thinking?”
“Large enough for four or five children,” Nell said boldly.
“At least that big.” Thomas smiled at her.
“And the three country estates? Are they still ours?” Nell asked. At Sir Henry’s nod she turned to Thomas. “We should visit them as soon as possible. Who knows how the servants and tenants were treated.”
“It is always good policy for the owners to keep an eye on their properties,” Sir Henry agreed.
“One is in Ireland, isn’t it?” Lady Minerva said.
Nell nodded. “Bexhill. My paternal great-grandmother brought it into the family, as well as a small shipping company her husband built up before he inherited the title in his fifties.”
“That company is going to keep us quite busy,” Sir Henry said. “It is profitable enough, even now, but I suspect Robles may have stolen from the company coffers too. We shall have to go over the books with a fine-tooth comb, and interview all employees separately.”
“You are busy with your political duties,” Thomas said, “are you sure you want to continue helping us, or would you prefer to hand the case over to some other firm, now that the most dramatic issues are resolved?”