Page 67 of The Tart's Final Noel
Squirming uncomfortably in his chair, Fletch laid the letter on Hunt’s desk that he’d purloined from the mailbag.“It’s addressed toCooper Turner, Esquire.I opened it.Arrest me, if you will, but read it first.”
Both names, proving some of their pathetic witnesses told the truth.
Not wearing the reading monocle for his one good eye, Hunt handed the letter to Walker, his steward.“Why did you think to open it?”
“Because I owe Willa the justice of having her killer caught.Parsons is terrified of authority and won’t speak to Rafe, but I got him drunk enough last night to spill his story.”
Hunt scowled but gestured for Fletch to continue.
Looking uncomfortable, Fletch leaned back in his chair and glared at the shelves.Rafe knew his friend had difficulty gathering words, so he waited patiently.
“Her brother is a coward who’s been lingering about for a week, too afraid to confront his sister.”Fletch wriggled uncomfortably but when no one interrupted, he continued.“When he saw a horse ride up her drive, he grew concerned.Parsons doesn’t trust gentry any more than authority.When he smelled rubbish burning, he panicked and feared the worst.He swears Willa’s front door was unlocked and half open.He’s a jittery chap so he pulled his cudgel and entered without knocking.Thinking to catch a thief or arsonist, he saw Cooper rifling through the desk.He did what a coward always does, strikes first.After flooring Cooper, he found his sister dead, and he fled, like he always does.He’s not completely stupid.He knew we’d suspect a convict long before we’d suspect a gentleman.”
“Parsonscracked Cooper’s head?And claims Cooper killed Willa?”Hunt leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his brow just the way Rafe was doing.“Why?”
“If you’ll read the letter, it becomes more clear,” Rafe said wearily.“These are not matters I understand.You will need to question Lord Chatham.But it appears Willa had information that would endanger Lord Chatham’s inheritance to the title and fortune.I’ve tried to question Cooper, but he refuses to talk.If he truly is a solicitor, he knows better.”
“Can I just send them all to assizes and let a judge straighten this out?”Hunt reached for the brandy decanter and refilled his glass, offering the bottle to others.
Rafe had no taste for the stuff.After his exercise in speaking, Fletch accepted a glass.
Rafe eyed the mantel clock and wondered if the captain would mind distracting a tense Fletch with the timepiece before he drank more.
Walker returned the letter to Hunt.“Talk to his lordship.Taking the viscount to court might be hasty unless we know how involved he is.The letter to Cooper is from the late Lord Chatham’s estate solicitors, advising him that they are delaying the transfer of funds and property until they have communicated with a Beatrice and Bronwen Bartlett of Bath.”
Bee and Boo, Rafe recalled wearily.The letters from the orphans’ mother to Willa talked about Bee and Boo in Bath.Willa had just received a letter fromB and Bin Bath saying they were delayed.He didn’t see the picture yet, but pieces were falling in place.
Walker explained.“The late viscount’s solicitors are notifyingCooper Turnerthat he might have been ill-informed.The Bartletts are claiming that their grand-niece properly married the Honorable Thomas Turner, younger son of Viscount Chatham, in Bath, and the Beanblossom trust was part of the marriage settlement.Before Margery Bartlett Turner’s parents sailed to Virginia, they left copies of the marriage documents with Willa, and there should be records with the church.”
Walker gestured at the letter.“Apparently, as a representative of Major Thomas Turner’s estate office, Cooper must have informed the late Lord Chatham’s attorneys otherwise.Because of the Bartletts’ intervention, the viscount’s solicitors are now searching for Major Turner’s marriage documents, settlements, and a more recent will.I’d say they have grown suspicious.”
The curate, who had been sitting quietly in a corner, spoke up.“Minerva has read the Debrett’s entry.The late Viscount Chatham had two sons.The elder died without issue.The younger, Thomas, was listed as an officer in the cavalry, a regiment which Minerva says fought at Waterloo.Our Debrett’s is out of date.The older brother’s demise is recorded but not the younger’s marriage, offspring, or death.The late viscount’s title and estate would legally descend to his sons.If they both die without legitimate male issue, the title and estate descend to the next in line—their cousin, son of the late viscount’s younger brother, the gentleman currently calling himself Lord Chatham.But if the birth records in Stratford are legitimate, Major Thomas Turner dutifully produced a male heir, Daniel.”
Rafe sank deeper in his chair.He’d left his rural home at eighteen, spent a lifetime at war, and never had interest in the ways of aristocracy.He was out of his field when it came to titles.But human nature, he understood.“So if Daniel is declared legitimate, he is Lord Chatham, heir to an estate?And if the marriage papers are destroyed, there is no proof of his legitimacy?And the cousin inherits?Can we arrest him for that?”
He knew the answer, but he was tired and wanted to go home to Verity and worry about this tomorrow.
The curate and Fletch inhaled loudly at his conclusion but blessedly refrained from commenting.The thought of Daniel as a viscount...gave Rafe a head pain.
Hunt tapped his pencil up and down against his blotter.“We need, at the very least, the marriage documents, which—if we are to believe Parson’s story—Cooper may have burned, along with his bloody clothing.Which means we have to wait until the estate solicitors find the official records, which won’t happen over Christmas.I’ll question his lordship, if I can do so discreetly.”
“Have Damien question Cooper Turner first,” the curate suggested.“How is he related to the viscount’s family?Minerva didn’t notice anyone else in the line of succession.”
Hunt nodded.“We need more information before we hold a trial.We can blame the season for the delay, leave Cooper and Elton to rot, unless they’re inclined to talk.Unless Cooper wants to press charges against Parsons, we have nothing on him.Looks like we might be grateful for his cowardice.”
Rafe wanted to lock up the possibly fake viscount as well, but he knew better than to ask.One did not imprison aristocrats based on nearly no evidence.After all, the new lordling was incompetent enough to be a pawn.
No one objected to the captain’s command.The ladies of the manor would never let a prisoner rot.They’d be well fed while moldering in the monks’ crypt.Leaving Fletch to haul prisoners around, Rafe lumbered to his feet, eager to return to Verity and the children, hoping Daphne had decided to talk.
“I hear the carolers are expecting a wassail bowl at your inn tomorrow?”Hunt asked as they left the study.
“So I have been informed.A Christmas Eve tradition?We are apparently keeping some of the elderly singers from having to climb the manor’s hill at night.Will you be there to greet them?”Rafe took the coat the butler handed him.He was becoming accustomed tobutlers.
“We all hope to be there.I don’t suppose a little extra ale might be added to our noble viscount’s cup so I might question him while he’s merry?”
“All?”Rafe tried not to stagger.“The marquess?The viscount?”
“The dowagers.”Hunt grinned.“I’m stuck with them the rest of the time.I may spirit Clare away early for a little quiet.”
