Page 78 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
“Hurley would fight a man with one leg?” Charlotte sounded indignant.
“I suppose not, but they came close. And then, after they were broken apart, one of the smuggling men took William to the Sunken Anchor.”
“The tavern where he died,” Whiddon said quietly to Charlotte.
“He was there for quite a while, sitting in a corner and drinking with Reeves all afternoon.”
“Wait?” That didn’t sound right. “William was drinking with Reeves? But he is one of Hurley’s cronies. He has been since we were young.”
“The villagers seemed to think William had decided to reconcile with the idea of the smuggling. He’d become friendly with a good many of the smuggling men, asking questions, listening to their ideas and grievances. There were whispers that William meant to wrest control of the gang away from the Hurleys.”
“Away from Father,” Whiddon corrected. “So he could shut it down.”
“The villagers thought not. They all expected William and Father to cut out the Hurleys and run the gang without giving away a headman’s portion.”
Whiddon snorted.
“You might have known different, but that’s what all of the Broadscombe gossips believed. That’s what Hurley confronted William about. And later, after William was good and foxed, Hurley came into the tavern, too. He sat down and stayed, with William boxed between him and Reeves, while they leaned close and questioned him.”
“No matter how drunk he got, William would never confide anything in Hurley.” He shook his head. “They were mortal enemies.”
Elizabeth looked solemn. “The tavern keeper tells folks he thinks there was more going on than everyone else could see. He said William didn’t order so many drinks as to grow so drunk and slurred as he was that day. Now they all whisper that Reeves slipped something in his ale. Something to loosen his tongue.”
“Good heavens,” Charlotte whispered.
“Hurley slipped away after a while, leaving William passed out over the table and Reeves drinking with the men at the bar. He was gone for a good while, the tavern keeper said, then he stepped back in, gave Reeves a nod and left again.”
Whiddon’s pulse quickened. He tensed as she went on.
“When it grew late, Reeves went back to William at the table. To wake him, he told the other men. He sat close to William again and spoke low, nudging him to wake and talking in his ear. William did come awake, roaring mad. He went for Reeves’ throat. The men say that William was in a frenzy, shouting about thievery and dishonor . . . and Abigail.”
“His betrothed?” Charlotte asked, low.
“His sweetheart,” Whiddon spat out. “The girl he loved from the moment he first glimpsed her. They were inseparable from the start. Everyone knew they had an understanding, that they meant to marry just as soon as William reached a salaried rank.” He could not hide the bitterness he felt. “Until William was crippled. Her mind changed quickly enough, then. She deserted him.”
“Poor William.”
Sorrow swathed Charlotte’s expression, but there was something else there, too. Whiddon didn’t like the way she looked at him, as if she’d just found an anchoring piece of a puzzle.
Elizabeth blinked back tears. “The tavern keeper said they tried to calm William, but he wasn’t rational. Gone out of his head, is how he described it. William stumbled about and tried to rush anyone who approached him. He kept lunging for Reeves. He broke loose of the tavern owner’s hold and went for him again. Reeves sidestepped and William went down, cracking his head on the bar.”
“Father said they carried him home unconscious. He never woke up and died the next day.” Bleak horror and grief swamped him once again, as it always did when he thought of his brother fighting, dying alone.
“You see?” Elizabeth was on her feet again. “Now it all makes sense. Hurley must have baited William. He drugged and questioned him. William must have let some bit of information slip. Something Hurley used to go and find the jewels. And then he came back to give the signal that he’d been successful. They would have wanted William out of the way, then. Reeves must have agitated him, hoping he’d have some sort of fit or accident while he was still muddled and drugged.”
Whiddon exchanged glances with Charlotte. “We can’t know for sure. It all sounds plausible, knowing the personalities involved.”
“Your Father could not have known of Hurley’s involvement,” Charlotte said. “He would not have sent Hurley here to watch you and look for the jewels.”
“No, he didn’t know Hurley had them already. And he sent the man to the place where it would be easiest to dispose of the goods.” He shook his head. “I’m tempted to just tell Father the whole story and allow him to take care of it. That justice would be brutal.”
“Well, we cannot wait that long,” Charlotte said firmly. “Hurley is a danger to Elizabeth, now. And what if he hears of that young girl that was at the house today? He’ll worry that you will begin to figure out what he’s been up to—and he’ll likely come after you.”
Whiddon bristled. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“He would dare anything if he felt endangered. Look what he’s done just in the name of greed. It would serve his purpose to harm you. He could lay the blame for his malign activities on you and tell your father that one of the refugees took their revenge.”
Whiddon raised a brow at her. “You have quite a diabolical mind, yourself, Charlotte.”
