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They entered the somber room and Sidmouth didn’t say a word, moving to the far wall where he crouched down and reached behind a rosewood curio cabinet situated below one of the windows. When he stood, he held a brown leather book in his hand.
“Here it is,” Sidmouth said, his grave tone indicative of his remorse as he extended the journal forward. “My apologies, Essex, I never meant any harm and realize now how shortsighted I became in my effort to remain in Margaret’s good graces.”
Theodore didn’t reply, but took the journal, noting it was still tied and locked. So much heartache had occurred already, he was more concerned with reading the entries Stephen had recorded than admonishing Sidmouth like a disobedient child. Besides, he believed the viscount was as contrite as he appeared, having had to explain his poor decision. “Let’s return to the ladies before we proceed.”
They found Lola and Margaret in the sitting room, a tray of tea on the table between them although neither of them had poured a cup.
“I have Stephen’s journal,” Theodore said as he entered. “What would you like me to do, Margaret?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, clearly agitated as she stood and hurried to Sidmouth’s side. “Colin didn’t know we were looking for the book.”
“I realize that now,” Theodore said, advancing into the room further to stand beside Lola. “But I’m asking you because I want to know if you’d like to read the contents yourself, have me read it, or turn the journal over to Bow Street. It’s your decision to make.”
“I haven’t the constitution to read it,” Margaret said, shaking her head vigorously and reaching for Colin’s hand. “But I don’t want to wait for you to bring it to the Runners and for them to look through it either. I think you should read it and then tell me what it says. Is it unlocked?”
“No.” Theodore looked down at the journal. “But when I first searched your brother’s rooms there was a bronze key in his wardrobe chest. I think it may fit.”
“Then please get it,” Margaret said, hurriedly. “I can’t bear all this uncertainty. Colin and I are going to take a stroll in the garden. I need some fresh air.”
Theodore nodded as they left through the terrace doors. He looked at Lola where she remained seated by the tea tray. This evening hardly turned out like he’d anticipated and yet when she glanced up to meet his attention, he saw compassion and concern in her eyes.
Placing the journal atop the end table, he went to her. “Thank you for understanding.”
“There’s no reason to thank me. Go abovestairs and get that key.” She pushed gently on his arm. “If what’s written in that journal resolves all of your unanswered questions about Fremont’s death, you shouldn’t waste another minute.”
He leaned in and kissed her quickly on the cheek before he left the room. Returning not five minutes later, he opened the lock and began paging through the journal.
“I’m going to step outside so I won’t distract you,” Lola said. “I know you must want to be alone.”
“Quite the opposite,” he said as he moved to sit on the chair beside her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stay. I have no idea what I’m going to find inside these pages and having you here by my side, well, it makes it better.”
“Of course.” She offered him a slight smile.
Exhaling thoroughly, he opened the journal, the only sound in the room the crackling logs in the firebox. However, the further he read the angrier he became until he stood up, unable to stay still any longer.
“Lola, would you please ask Margaret and the viscount to come inside?” He saw his sorrow reflected in her eyes. “She’ll need to have the support of her friends when she hears what I have to share.”
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“What does it say? Does the journal explain what happened?” Margaret rushed in on Sidmouth’s arm, her words breathless as if she’d run all the way back to the house. Lola entered behind her.
“I think you should sit, Margaret. Some of this information may come as a shock,” Theodore said, his tone steady.
Sidmouth quickly guided Margaret to the divan where he sat beside her. Lola reclaimed her chair from earlier and once everyone was settled, Theodore began.
“Stephen was being forced to make payments in order to protect you from scandal, Margaret. He bled the family funds dry, sold off valuables, and liquidated investments in an attempt to keep the viscountcy solvent while also meeting the demands of these payments. His financial concerns were why he seemed so disagreeable about your wedding plans. He wanted to give you the special day you’d imagined, but had already run through your dowry and most of his savings. Worse yet, he had no way to explain any of this to you.
“At first, the payments were made to protect you from a ruined reputation, but eventually there was a threat of physicalharm. That’s why Stephen made plans with you on the evening of his murder. He wanted you here, safely waiting for him in the house where no one could hurt you. That same night, he went to Vauxhall to confront the man extorting him and reveal that there would be no more payments because there was no more money. Stephen had nothing left to lose and, with no other recourse, intended to go to the authorities even though it would compromise his attempt to keep your reputation from harm. I believe he shared his intention to involve Bow Street and that’s what led to his violent end.”
Margaret remained quiet for several minutes after Theodore finished. She drew a shuddering breath and clasped Sidmouth’s hands as tears streamed down her face. “He was protecting me the whole time? From whom? Who knew something that could damage my reputation?”
Theodore hesitated adding more grief to the situation but he knew Margaret would not be satisfied until she learned every detail. “I’m sorry to tell you it was Baron Mowbray who demanded money in exchange for his silence.”
“What?” Margaret exclaimed, standing up in surprise. “He’s the most vile, despicable person. How dare he do such a thing? I thought I was rid of him and instead he stopped bothering me about our past relationship so he could threaten my brother.”
She sank back onto the divan and began sobbing. Sidmouth wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tried to comfort her.
“This is all my fault,” Margaret cried, her voice filled with anguish. “I caused Stephen’s death.”