‘So what do we know?’ Mrs Stamford demanded clarification. ‘That her name was probably not Baxendale when Thomas met her. And Sir Edward is not her brother. Does it help us at all?’ Doubts still drew a sharp line between the lady’s delicate brows.
‘Octavia only has one brother,’ Eleanor put in quietly. ‘I asked her about her family, a casual query you understand, over a glass of wine. She said that Edward was the only family she had remaining alive. Her parents are dead and she had no sisters. She offered the information that she and her brother are, and always have been, very close.’
‘So we will work on the premise that Beatrice is correct.’ Henry frowned down at his highly polished boots.
‘But the innkeeper at the Red Lion—’ Eleanor turned towards Henry, impatient with her memories of their visit to Whitchurch ‘—he said Sir Edward had a sister who had a young child. And that the sister’s husband had recently died. A husband who rarely visited the Great House. Would he deliberately mislead us? I cannot see it.’
‘No. I do not think he lied.’ Henry found his mind working furiously with the scant evidence they had. ‘He would have no reason to do so—he did not know the reason for our visit.’
‘And they knew Sir Edward—both the landlord and the gardener,’ Eleanor reminded him again. ‘There was no dispute over his name or his living in the Great House.’
‘There was in all probability no reason to do so. He most likely is Sir Edward Baxendale and I am certain that he does live in Whitchurch. So consider. If you are going to set up a fraudulent claim to a valuable inheritance, surely it must be safer to use as much truth as possible. The more truth, the less chance for the lies to be suspected and detected. It is Octavia’s name which is in question after all, not Sir Edward’s. And the identity of her brother—although how he fits into the puzzle I know not.’
‘But Sir Edward has a sister with a baby,’ Eleanor persisted.
‘Yes. I don’t dispute it. But not Octavia.’
‘I still don’t know where that leaves us.’ Mrs Stamford lifted her hands and let them fall into her lap in frustration. She clearly spoke for them all.
‘Tell me, Eleanor.’ Henry now sat up and fixed the lady with a compelling stare. It appeared that he had come to some conclusions. ‘When you first saw the child John, what was your first thought?’
‘After I had recovered from the shock?’ She laughed a little. For the first time in days it seemed that a weight had been lifted from her mind. They still knew so little, yet there was a distinct crumbling in the edifice built up by Sir Edward. He had lied. And how many lies he had been prepared to tell they had yet to discover. She must hold on to the fact that Thomas’s marriage to Octavia was all a sham. And they would prove it! ‘I shall never forget those first revelations!’ she admitted. ‘I suppose I thought that the boy looked nothing like Thomas. And later Judith said—’
‘Judith said that Faringdons always breed true.’ Mrs Stamford smiled, the slightest touch of triumph as she followed the line of thought. ‘Look at dear baby Tom, the image of his father. And Judith is so like her father, apart from that unfortunate red hair which she inherited from Beatrice. But John looks like Octavia. Or even Sir Edward. Both very fair with blue eyes and fair complexions.’
‘What are you thinking? Who is the child’s father, if not Thomas?’ Eleanor’s face was suddenly flushed with a delicate colour.
‘I don’t know yet.’ Henry lifted his shoulders and let them fall, but there was the fire of battle in his eyes. ‘Who would know more about this?’
‘But look, Hal.’ Listening to the unfolding suppositions, sympathising with the need to destroy Sir Edward’s case, Nick could still see one major sticking point. ‘You have forgotten the documents. The marriage and baptism. All legal, signed and sealed, with witnesses. Guaranteed by Church and State. Can we argue round that? I don’t see it. We can destroy Baxendale’s credibility, but can we discount the documents in Hoskins’ possession? He certainly believes them to be above question.’
‘One witness of the marriage is dead.’ Eleanor reminded him. ‘Octavia’s mother. It is very convenient, I suppose.’
‘And do you remember the identity of the other?’ asked Henry. ‘It was Sir Edward. Even more convenient!’
‘So was the priest also lying? Witnessing something that never happened? Forging documents? Is that what you are suggesting?’ Mrs Stamford looked suitably shocked. ‘A man of the cloth, too! What a terrible muddle this all is.’
‘We need someone who can tell us more about the Baxendale family.’ Nicholas returned to his brother’s previous question. ‘Someone who will know about relationships, scandals, whatever, and be prepared to talk to us.’
‘That’s easy!’ Henry pushed himself to his feet to pour a glass of brandy, offering it to his brother. ‘Servants. They always know more about the family than the family members themselves. If you ever wish to know anything about the Faringdons, for the past two generations at least, ask Marcle. Don’t ever be under the misapprehension that you have any secrets, Nick!’
‘There is only the nursemaid here with them in London. Sarah, I think.’ Eleanor looked at her mama for corroboration.
‘Perfect! Eleanor…would you care to pay a visit to Faringdon House again tomorrow?’ Henry poured brandy for himself. ‘On the pretext of enquiring after Octavia’s health after her social introduction? And see if you can find an occasion to speak with Sarah.’
‘But what on earth do I ask?’ she demanded, startled at the role suddenly thrust at her. ‘Are your employers perhaps charlatans? Do they lie and cheat and—?’
‘I will go with you.’ Mrs Stamford rose to her feet. ‘Come, my dear. It is late. We will think of something. And if words do not get the right results, gold might! In my experience, money will open a multitude of doors.’
‘Well, Mama…’ Eleanor failed to hide her surprise ‘…I shall certainly not refuse your offer. We will be able to enjoy another exciting conversation with Octavia about the state of her roses! If you will accompany me, it may give us the opportunity to distract her so that one of us can talk to the child and Sarah. I shall take Tom with me. What a cosy family party we shall make, to be sure!’
‘Have faith, Eleanor. It seems that we have a mystery on our hands at last, rather than an open-and-shut case.’ Henry walked with habitual grace to open the door for the departing ladies, bowing them out. ‘And brother Thomas is beginning to look like an innocent pawn in an intricate and dangerous game of chance. More innocent by the hour.’
The ladies went to bed, deep in discussing tactics for the morrow. Hal and Nick sat on in the parlour, Hal deep in thought, a bottle of brandy between them.
‘What is it?’ Nicholas asked at last—his brother had spent the past ten minutes saying nothing, but staring into the fire.
‘I have been thinking.’
‘Never!’
Now he looked up, lips curving a little. ‘The documents presented by Sir Edward. They must be false. And Aunt Beatrice’s description of Octavia’s brother…’
‘So?’
‘Little brother.’ Henry smiled in gentle malice. ‘Would you care for another tour of the gentleman’s clubs and gaming establishments of London? And perhaps another informative conversation with Kingstone?’
‘No. I would not!’
‘I think this one may pay off. Just a hunch but. Say nothing to Eleanor. It would not do to raise her hopes until we have more concrete evidence than Beatrice’s ramblings. Our aunt has more faith in her memory than I have. But I think.I just think that we may have been looking