Page 68 of The Time for Love
Martin saw a look of horrified comprehension dawn on Charlie’s face, and when Sophy mentioned the strawberry birthmark, Charlie softly swore.
“It’s not a birthmark,” he said. “It’s a scar from when he was a child and set a cat on fire.”
Seeing the others all staring at him, Charlie said, “That’s Vince Murchison.”
Martin straightened. “The man who holds your IOUs and tried to force you to rob the steelworks?”
Grim-faced, Charlie nodded. “The same.”
“Well,” Sophy said, her tone hardening. “Now we know who was behind all the accidents at the steelworks!”
“We know who carried them out,” Oliver clarified. “But the person actually behind the accidents—and that document—is whoever hired Vince Murchison and his thugs.”
“So it seems.” Lady Bracknell nodded, along with everyone else.
Frowning anew, Sophy looked at Charlie. “Earlier, when you were telling us about your IOUs and what this Vince Murchison told you to do at the steelworks, you said he wanted you to sign some document as well.”
Charlie blinked, then nodded. “That’s right. I’d forgotten about that.”
“Do you have the document with you?” Martin asked.
Charlie was already hunting through his pockets. “Yes!” He pulled out a wad of folded paper from an inner pocket. “Here it is.”
Martin held out his hand, and Charlie handed the document to him. Martin unfolded it, swiftly scanned it, then passed it to Sophy. To the others, he said, “It’s the same document, just with Charlie’s name instead of Sophy’s.”
“So,” Charlie said, clearly wrestling with the implications, “if I’d signed, I would have given up my voting rights in Carmichael Steelworks, just like Sophy?”
Martin nodded. Sophy handed the document to Lady Bracknell, and Oliver rose and went to read over her shoulder. Her ladyship humphed. “It’s just the same.” She flipped to the end of the document. “And just like the document Sophy was given, this doesn’t stipulate a specific person to whom the voting rights will transfer, just that they will be equally divided between the other shareholders.”
Martin looked at Sophy, then at Charlie. “To be perfectly clear, aside from the two of you, who are the other shareholders in Carmichael Steelworks?”
Sophy looked at Charlie, then in unison they said, “Edward.”
“There is absolutely no one else?” Martin pressed.
Charlie and Sophy, both thin-lipped, shook their heads.
“Just Edward,” Sophy confirmed. “There is no one else.”
Martin looked from one to the other, then at the dawning comprehension in Julia’s, Hector’s, and Lady Bracknell’s faces.
Oliver simply looked grim.
“So”—leaning his forearms on his thighs, Martin clasped his hands between his knees—“if Sophy had signed the document put before her, and Charlie had signed the document given to him, control of the steelworks would have passed to Edward.”
Everyone was silent as that sank in, then Sophy met his gaze. “Not just control, but complete and absolute control. Whatever Edward decided, there would be no gainsaying him.”
Martin looked around at the sober, serious, quite somber faces. “It appears,” he concluded, “that first to last, this entire series of incidents has been directed at, on the one hand, damaging the steelworks and, on the other, placing complete control of the business into Edward’s hands.”
The others all looked at him. No one disagreed.
* * *
They were still grappling with that revelation when Higginbotham arrived and announced that dinner was awaiting their pleasure, and they adjourned to the dining room.
Martin noticed that Hector, who had listened silently to the proceedings, slipped away to the kitchens, no doubt to take his meal with the other staff.
The oval table had been set for six, and Lady Bracknell directed them to various seats, with Julia at the foot of the table while her ladyship claimed the carver at its head.
