Page 96 of The Meaning of Love
After a moment, more reluctantly, he went on, “The impression I received was something I’ve encountered before, in Ireland, when captives from one side would simply wait to be liberated by their leaders. That’s the sense I received from Mitchell and Manning—they’re waiting for their master to”—he gestured vaguely—“I’m not sure what. Rescue them? Somehow relieve them of any charge?” Perplexed, he shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
Along with the men, Melissa was frowning, as puzzled as they. “Does that tell us anything about their master?”
“Well,” Felix said, “it suggests that they, at least, believe their master is somehow able to overrule an earl.”
“That,” Damian said, “or make some sort of deal with you, as I assume was what happened in Ireland.”
Julian shook his head. “I can’t see any reason that would force me to make a deal with anyone. We’re not under threat on any front.” He grimaced in frustration and sat back, tapping a single finger on the desk. “As for their master overruling me, in a case such as this, with crimes committed on my principal estate…I can’t see how, much less who could accomplish that. Not unless I died, and their master—not Felix or you—inherits.”
Damian blinked. His expression blanked. “You don’t think Felix or I—”
Julian held up a hand. “No, I don’t.” After a moment, he confessed, “I’m honestly not sure what I think. We go around and around, yet underneath it all…”
“Underneath it all,” Melissa said, eyes narrowed in thought, “there is a hint, a shadow, of a pattern.” She looked at Julian. “I mentioned it before, how with the earlier attacks—the thorn in your saddle, the shot in the park, the urn falling—it could be argued that Felix was implicated.” She flung Felix an appeasing glance. “Purely through you being there, more or less on the spot, when those incidents occurred. You were also here when the mantrap was planted, and as for the spring gun—someone might suggest you were planting it when it unexpectedly went off.”
Stunned, Felix stared at her, then understanding flooded his expression. “You think someone’s trying to make me a scapegoat for Julian’s murder?” His voice had risen in horror.
Damian was frowning. “You were here for the punt accident, too.”
“So were you.” When Damian looked at Melissa, she caught his eye. “And Manning was introduced into the household through you.”
“But”—Damian looked at Julian, openly horrified—“it’s not me!”
Julian waved dismissively. “We know it’s not you. What Melissa is demonstrating is that, when viewed by others who don’t know us, had any of these attacks succeeded, then both you and Felix might have been thought to have had a hand in my demise.”
“And,” Felix said, “if that got serious enough to lead to a conviction, aside from any sentence we received, we’d be barred from inheriting.” He looked at Melissa, then at Julian. “Could this somehow be about the earldom’s succession?”
“I don’t know.” Julian sat forward, clasping his hands on the desk. “But in some ways, this is starting to feel like someone’s long game.”
“What’s that?” Damian asked. “Is it a strategy thing?”
Julian nodded. “It’s an approach that political manipulators employ—a succession of individual events that in themselves appear minor and often unconnected, but in the long run, those events build on each other to achieve a particular goal while, along the way, obscuring the hand of the one pulling the strings and playing the game.”
At last, he felt he had a recognizable framework into which all the strange events might fit. “Finally,” he breathed, “this might make sense.”
Felix remained puzzled. “How?”
“I can’t see the end goal yet,” Julian admitted. “That’s usually the case and, at this point, is to be expected. But equally, once we identify the end goal, the chances are we’ll know who wants it and who, therefore, is behind the game.”
Feeling increasingly on surer ground, he said, “Let’s see what we can make of what we already know. If Mitchell and Manning were both put in place by whoever’s behind this—”
“Let’s call him X,” Melissa suggested.
Julian dipped his head her way. “By X, then Mitchell joined the household twenty months ago. That definitely qualifies as long-term planning. On the other hand, Manning is a recent addition and introduced via Damian, so at the castle, but not formally part of the castle staff. That tells us that X is still actively weaving his plans and moving his pawns into position.” He paused, then glanced at Melissa. “Until this ends, we need to be wary of adding anyone to the household in any capacity at all.”
She nodded. “I’ll speak with the Phelpses and Hockey and Edgerton, but hopefully, it won’t be that long before we can find our way to X.”
“We can but hope,” Julian replied.
“I just remembered,” Damian said. “Manning was at Carsely House when the bookcase fell on you.”
Julian nodded. “Very true. And as with the punt, a familiarity with tools was required, so perhaps he was behind that attempt, too.”
“But”—Felix shifted in his chair—“Manning wasn’t at Carsely House when the urn fell.”
“He wasn’t,” Damian agreed. “I hadn’t hired him then.” Damian looked at Julian. “Are you thinking X might be Gordon? I mean, if you were to die and, for whatever reason, Felix and I were out of contention, the title passes to Frederick.”
“And Frederick is old,” Felix said. “If soon after inheriting, he dies, no one would think anything of it, and Gordon is next in line.”
