by Abby Ayles
“Of course, Father, we’re just concerned about the expense,” Helena replied. She stepped toward him with a small smile. “They’re lovely.”
He smiled back at her. “I just want to show you how much I love you.”
“We know you do, Father,” Beatrice assured. “We love you too. We only caution out of concern for you.”
“You needn’t worry for me. I’m perfectly well, I assure you.”
There was a knock at the door. Mrs. Royce entered. She looked at the new gifts in surprise before announcing, “Luncheon’s served.”
The family followed her across the hall to the dining room. It was situated along the south wall of the house to the rear. Large double doors opened to the formal setting. The table was large, seating eight, and made of polished oak.
“Cook's made your favorite,” Mrs. Royce stated. “Will you be staying, sir?”
Helena’s father smiled. “Why not? I am here. It’s not often I get to enjoy lunch with my family.”
Helena smiled. It was true. Usually, at this time, he was at the office or going to his favorite tavern for a meal and beer. It was nice to have him.
They took their respective seats. They always sat in the same place. Her father at the head, their mother at his right hand, Beatrice at his left, and Helena beside her.
Mrs. Royce excused herself while they began to eat their meal of bread, roast beef, and ham, with several types of cheese and grapes. Helena didn’t have much of an appetite, and only nibbled at a crust of bread and a handful of grapes.
“Sir,” Mrs. Royce said in alarm as she barged into the room seconds later, followed by constables.
Her father was on his feet immediately. “What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Leeson exclaimed. “What right have you to barge into my home in such a manner? I demand an answer.”
The family was on their feet in an instant.
“Sirs, what is this about?” Mrs. Leeson asked as Helena and Beatrice looked on in astonishment, momentarily stunned by the sudden intrusion.
“What business have you here that you would enter a private home in such a manner?” Helena asked when her tongue regained its vigor.
Mrs. Royce was in tears in the corner. She kept repeating that she had no choice but to let them in, but no one was paying attention to her. All eyes were on Helena's father.
“Sir, you have been charged with the crime of embezzlement,” one gruff officer declared as he tugged her father hard by the arm.
“Unhand me!” her father demanded as he yanked his arm free. “How dare you insinuate such a thing? Embezzlement! Indeed!” Mr. Leeson replied, affronted. “I have never embezzled anything in my entire life!”
“You’ve been accused of embezzling from Repington Goldsmith & Jewellers,” the constable replied. “Now will you be coming along quietly, sir, or will we have to drag you out?”
Her father’s face was ashen. Helena’s heart stopped. Her mother shrieked and collapsed back into her chair. Mrs. Royce ran to her side and began to fan her with a napkin from the table. Beatrice looked dumbfounded.
“What did you say?” Mr. Leeson questioned hollowly.
“Will you come along quiet –”
“No. The place that has accused me,” Mr. Leeson repeated.
“Repington Goldsmith & Jewellers. Don’t pretend you don’t know the place. It’s owned by the Earl of Wismoth. Your employer, I would believe.”
Her father didn’t move. None of them could. There could be no worse news to be had than that which the constable had just uttered.
“I assure you. I have no idea of what matter you speak,” Mr. Leeson said slowly. His eyes were staring but didn’t seem to focus.
“Father?” Helena said as she stepped toward him, but a strong arm prevented her. She turned to the officer who stared at her coldly. She stood still.
“It’s my duty to take you with us, sir. Will you come, or shall we be forced to drag you from the house? I’m sure it’s not the type of thing the likes of you would want to happen on their doorstep.”
The constable, whoever he was, was cruel. The look on his face was one of glee as he uttered each word. Helena sniffled and beat back the tears that threatened her eyes. She turned to her father.
He was staring at her mother, who was beside herself with weeping. Then he turned to Beatrice who still seemed unable to move. Then, he turned to her. When their eyes met, Helena saw nothing but confusion.
“How could they accuse me?” Mr. Leeson asked as he stared at her.
“Father, there must be some mistake,” Helena assured. “They would never.”
“But they have, miss,” the constable interrupted. “And they’ve got the evidence to prove it.”
“Evidence? What evidence?” Mr. Leeson asked as he recovered from his momentary stupor.
“That’s not my business. It’ll be presented at your trial.”
“Trial?” Mr. Leeson replied, alarmed. “No,” he declared as he stepped away from them. “There has been a mistake. You gentlemen would kindly leave my house immediately.”
The response was swift and immediate. Mr. Leeson was instantly accosted, bound, and unceremoniously dragged from the room to everyone’s shock and horror.
Beatrice and Helena followed him, each in tears but neither able to get close to him as he was forcibly removed from their home. They stood on the stoop as their neighbors and passers-by watched as their father was arrested before their eyes and carted away.
“Mr. Maypole!” Helena called as she frantically turned from the street and back to the house. The butler was already there, standing in shock with the rest of the household staff.
“Yes, miss?”
“Mr. Maypole,” she repeated. “Go, find our solicitor, Mr. Winslow, immediately. Tell him what’s happened.”
Helena could hardly catch her breath. It felt as if hands were clutching her throat, squeezing the air from it.
“Miss?” Mrs. Royce called. Helena could hear her, but she sounded so far away. She repeated her words, but this time Helena couldn’t hear her at all.
The room was spinning. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision blurred, and the next moment, it went black.
***
Her head hurt when she finally opened her eyes. The room was mostly dark, but she could still see the shimmer of golden hair beside her bed from the lamp in the corner.
“Beatrice?”
“Helena,” her sister replied with relief. She rushed to her feet and ran to the door. “Mrs. Royce, come quick!”
The sound of her sister’s voice hurt her head even more. Helena’s mind was foggy as she tried to gain her bearings. She was in bed. Her bed. How had she gotten there? She’d had such a terrible nightmare.
Beatrice returned to her side. Tears streaked her face. “Are you alright?” she wept.
“My head hurts,” Helena replied. “Why am I here?”
Beatrice looked at her sorrowfully. “Don’t you remember?”
She shook her head.
“When the constables took Father away, you came back into the house for Mr. Maypole. You fainted and hit your head. We had to call a physician for you and Mother.”
Helena sat up quickly and regretted it instantly. Her head began to swim, and the pounding only increased. She raised her hand to her temple and found a bandage there.
“You suffered an injury,” Beatrice said. “You hit your head on the sidebar in the entryway. You were bleeding and wouldn’t answer. I thought you were dead,” Beatrice cried.
“Bea,” Helena whispered as she held her arms out to her. Her sister moved toward her and hugged her. She laid her head on her lap and continued to weep. Helena didn’t know what to do, everything was so confusing.
“Mr. Winslow said that they have evidence against Father,” Beatrice informed. “He says they have cause to keep him. He’s being held for trial.”
Helena tried to move but Beatrice stopped her.
“You shouldn’t move about. The physician wi
ll be back to see you tomorrow.”
“Where’s Mother?”
“Resting.”
“Miss Helena, you’re awake,” Mrs. Royce called as she rushed into the room. The poor woman was beside herself. She came to stand by Helena’s side and held her hand. “How’re you feeling?”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Royce. Just a little headache,” Helena answered.
“You had us all so worried,” the housekeeper replied. “I thank God your mother didn't see it all,” she continued. “Her heart was sure to give out if she did.”
The thought made Helena sick to consider it. “Is Mother alright?”
“She’s fine, miss. You just think about yourself right now,” Mrs. Royce assured. “I’ve taken good care of her. She’ll be asleep until tomorrow. I gave her my famous sleeping tea.”
Helena closed her eyes and tried to bring everything back into focus. What had happened that evening?
“This is all such a mess, miss. What're we to do?” Mrs. Royce cried.
She opened her eyes and looked at Mrs. Royce. “Whatever they've said about my father isn't true. Do you hear me, Mrs. Royce? It isn't true. Father would never steal, and especially not from the company.”
“Helena, the gifts,” Beatrice cried.
“Don’t,” Helena warned. It made her head hurt to say it. “Don’t you dare think it. Father taught us never to steal. He wouldn’t do such a thing.”
Beatrice nodded and wiped her cheek. “Of course not. There has to be some kind of explanation.”
“Precisely,” Helena answered. “We just have to find out what it is.”
Chapter 14
Elias was anxious. Over a month had passed since Ambrose Leeson’s arrest. The news had reached him almost three weeks after the incident, and it had taken almost that long to return home.
He still found it hard to believe. The man he knew would never stoop so low as embezzlement. It was theft, and he was always a man who proclaimed an abhorrence for anyone who would engage in such a lazy and selfish act.
Mr. Leeson wouldn’t do that.
“They said we could see him?” Lord Wismoth asked for the third time.
“Yes, Father.”
“I can’t believe this,” Lord Wismoth repeated, also for the third time.
“I’m sure it’s not true, Father," Elias assured. He wished he could say more but at this point, he had nothing to go on. There was no time to investigate. They had nothing to go on but what was said in the letter from Mr. White, Ambrose’s personal clerk.
“I don’t want to believe it is,” the Earl replied. “Ambrose is my longest friend, you know. Over thirty years of knowing each other. I can’t believe he would ever do something like this.”
“Then trust that,” Elias answered.
His eyes watched the horizon nervously. The treeline meandered as the carriage rocked over uneven ground. London couldn’t come fast enough.
Elias closed his eyes. It was only for a moment, but the next sound he heard was that of the horses’ hooves on cobblestone. They were there. Newgate Prison.
It stood at the corner of Newgate Street and Old Bailey. The walls loomed so high above that it blotted out the sun as you crossed beneath the gate. It made Elias cold to pass beneath it.
They were forced to leave the courtyard and cross to the cells on foot. The smell stung Elias’s nose immediately. His father cleared his throat beside him. They exchanged a look between them, but said nothing about it.
The guards gave them what Elias presumed was the customary warning when one entered a prison. He listened only moderately. His mind was focused on the fact that his father’s dearest friend was being kept in such a place.
They seemed to walk down forever, the end seemingly perpetually out of reach. Finally, they were led down a corridor and brought to a cell.
The jailer said nothing. He just left to stand before an iron door with a large key lock at the centre and two large bolts with their own locks at the top and bottom.
Elias stared at the door. He was almost afraid to go near it.
“Ambrose?” Lord Wismoth said as he took the first step toward the door.
Elias heard the sound of chains rattling before two hands clasped the bars. Mr. Leeson’s face appeared a moment later.
“My God, Ambrose,” Lord Wismoth exclaimed at the sight of his friend. Ambrose Leeson was no longer the man they knew. He was so altered that Elias would hardly have known him.
Helena’s father looked twenty years older. Elias couldn’t understand how that could’ve happened.
“Walter?” Mr. Leeson asked as if he couldn't recognize to whom he was speaking.
“What’s happened to you?” Lord Wismoth asked as he peered through the bars at the man he’d known most of his life.
Mr. Leeson ignored the question. “I swear to you that I didn’t do it.”
“We believe you,” Elias replied quickly.
“I didn’t do it,” Mr. Leeson repeated. “I swear I didn’t. I didn’t do what they said.”
He sounded almost desperate for them to believe him. He’d never heard the stable man he’d known his entire life so affected. Elias thanked God Helena wasn’t there to witness it.
“We believe you,” Lord Wismoth said.
“Thank you,” Mr. Leeson wept. “You have to get me out of here. I can’t stay here.”
“We’ll do our best,” Elias promised. “I swear to you.”
“But we need your help to do it,” Lord Wismoth replied.
“Yes. We need to understand what evidence they have against you and how this could’ve happened,” Elias continued.
“I don’t know how,” Mr. Leeson choked. “I’ve never done anything. I would never do anything to harm the business.”
“Then what evidence could they have found against you?”
“Documents,” Mr. Leeson explained. “Documents with my signature on them. Adjustments to the books.”
“Did you handle them?” Elias asked.
“Of course I did. It’s part of my job as manager. I oversee the bookkeeping.”
“Then how could this happen, Ambrose?” the Earl once again questioned.
“I don’t know!” he bellowed. “I don’t know!”
“Ambrose?”
“How am I to know? Do you think I would be here still if I did?”
His voice was raised, and there was an almost maniacal look in his eyes. Elias couldn’t imagine what he was going through. He was sure he would’ve run mad if he was trapped like an animal as Mr. Leeson was.
“Calm yourself,” Lord Wismoth insisted. “We’re just trying to make sense of all this.”
“You? You’re trying to make sense of it? What about me? What about my family?”
“Ambrose?”
“This is my life!” he cried. “My family’s lives!”
“We understand that and we’re doing our best to get to the truth,” Elias replied quickly.
“The truth? I’m speaking the truth!” Mr. Leeson protested. “I’ve been telling the truth, and no one seems to be listening! Why aren’t you listening?”
“We’re just asking so we can help decipher this,” Elias continued. “If you’re innocent, then we need to know –”
“If I’m innocent?”
He hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, but it was too late to take it back.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Of course we –” the Earl began but Mr. Leeson didn’t allow him to finish.
“No, you don’t!”
“Father,” Elias called. “Let Mr. Leeson be for a moment.”
His father looked at him in confusion but did as he asked. Elias called to him, and the pair took a few steps back to converse amongst themselves.
“Father, I think, perhaps, if Mr. Leeson said he would repay the stolen money, maybe they would release him? Don’t you think?”
“Return the money? You want me to return the money?”
Mr. Leeson’s ears we
re more acute than Elias had anticipated.
“No,” he replied. “I was simply saying –”
“That you want your money back?” Mr. Leeson interrupted angrily. “I didn’t take it!”
“We don't think you did,” Lord Wismoth tried to explain. “Elias was just suggesting a way that the courts may be persuaded.”