Page 35 of A Gentleman’s Offer

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‘No!’ said Francis, shocked. ‘Surely not! I know he’s a dashed selfish old court card, but he wouldn’t do that, would he?’

‘I don’t see what else fits the facts as we know them,’ Meg told him earnestly. She was conscious of a great urge to pace the room in her usual manner, but repressed it in case Francis, not being well acquainted with her yet, should find it alarming. ‘Whyever else would he be so keen to ensure that Maria marries a man over whom he believes he has power? Imagine what would happen after the marriage, if I’m right and the money has gone into his pocket. What would anyone else do, on discovering he’d been tricked over the nature of his wife’s fortune?’

‘He would protest,’ said Dominic a little grimly. ‘Threaten your father with exposure and public disgrace. Go to lawyers and make a case of it, if threats didn’t have any effect. It would all be most unpleasant for your poor sister, of course, or any woman in her situation, but I’m sure it happens all the time, since women are granted so little control over their own money.’

‘But you wouldn’t be in a position to make any sort of protest. You’d be under so much pressure to say nothing, do nothing…’

‘I most certainly would.’

Francis had been watching them intently. ‘But dash it all,’ he said, ‘my father is a wealthy man! It’s not as if he’s addicted to the card tables, or lives an extravagant life. Hasn’t bought a new waistcoat for ten years, I dare say. He has vast sums, invested in the Funds, and my understanding is he did well round about Waterloo time, too, when so many people panicked and sold out at a loss and ruined themselves. It all happened by accident, of course. My aunt Greystone told me that by the time his man of business made him understand that there was a battle going on in the present day that he should take urgent notice of, not some cursed ancient Greek affair with lots of chaps running about in skirts and sandals saying poetry, the whole thing was over and Old Boney was defeated and everything went back to normal. Supposing I admit him capable of such villainy, he can’t possibly need the money.’

‘I think he may have used it to buy books,’ Meg told him. She’d been thinking about it, lying awake brooding over the matter, and it was the only explanation that made sense to her. As Francis said, her father’s manner of existence was not extravagant except in one key area: his life’s obsession, his studies.

‘ Books ?’ Francis said in utter disgust. ‘You think he’s stolen thousands of pounds from his own daughter in a dashed dishonourable, not to mention illegal, fashion and spent it on mouldy old books?’

‘There was a big library sale six months ago,’ Sir Dominic murmured. ‘I recall reading about it at the time. Lord Harcourt’s collection of ancient books and manuscripts was sold at auction after his death. It was mentioned in all the newspapers, and I understand once everything was disposed of a very large amount was raised for his heirs. There were several unique items of great antiquity that collectors were said to be most excited over. A precious early scroll of Homer was said to be of particular value, and worth many thousands of guineas. If he bought several things, you know, it could quickly add up to an enormous sum that he could not easily lay his hands on by any honest means.’

‘Well, I’m bound to say that that sounds exactly like my father,’ Francis said robustly, ‘getting fired up about some moth-eaten old bits of parchment no normal person would cross the street to pick out of the gutter. Not even in good honest English, I dare swear, but in dashed Greek or Latin or something of that kind! Did the newspapers say who bought the things, can you recall?’

Dominic shook his head. ‘Unfortunately not. In such circumstances it is usual to employ confidential agents to do the actual bidding, I understand. The identities of the men behind them would never be revealed without their agreement. They would be under no obligation to make matters public – unless, of course, their intention was not to keep the prizes they had gained for themselves, but instead to donate them to the British Museum, or to some other learned institution, in which case I’m sure they’d be happy to be named and win public approbation for their generosity.’

‘Public approbation be blowed. You’d never catch my father doing that,’ Francis said positively. ‘No, if he’d got his hands on something, he’d mean to keep it, I’m quite sure. Gloat over it in private, maybe show it to a few of his cursed peculiar inky old friends. Perhaps you’re right.’

‘I believe we are,’ Meg replied. ‘And the only person who can find out the truth is you, Francis. As Sir Dominic says, it is quite mortifying to reflect how little standing Maria, I, or even my mother, can have in such a matter, even though it concerns all of us so closely. We can be ruined, cheated, and do nothing about it. It is infuriating… but this is not the time for such animadversions, perhaps.’

To do Mr Nightingale justice, it was not necessary to appeal to self-interest to get him to help. Meg had no occasion to remind him that if their father had been playing at ducks and drakes with Maria’s fortune, he might easily have done the same with the Nightingale estate. The bulk of the family property, including the Grosvenor Square house and the country estate, was entailed, she knew, and would pass to Francis as next custodian after his father’s death; it was no more Lord Nightingale’s to dispose of than Maria’s inheritance was. But if they were correct in believing him dishonest, heaven knew what he might have done.

Francis showed himself perfectly willing to instruct his lawyer to look into the matter as soon as it might be arranged. ‘I have every right to do so,’ he said stoutly. ‘My father was already past his first youth when his mother drew up her final will, and so she made me a trustee too along with him, even though I was only a boy in short petticoats at the time – looking to the future, you know, as was only proper. I’ve never been called upon to do anything except sign the odd paper now and again, but I can quite see that I should have been sharper about the whole business. But you don’t go about imagining your own father to be capable of such villainy. I’ll put my man on it, that’s the ticket. He’s a young fellow, keen as mustard, name of Clarke, and I dare say there’s nothing he would enjoy more than ferreting out a mystery like a dashed legal terrier. It’ll cause a scandal, though, you know, when it all comes out, but I do see it can’t be helped.’

‘I wonder?’ said Sir Dominic thoughtfully. ‘Public exposure may not be necessary after all, if we keep our wits about us. You’re right, Nightingale, when you say that your father, assuming always that our suspicions are correct, hasn’t gambled away Maria’s portion at the faro tables. If that were the case, there would be nothing we could do but prevent him from causing any more damage. As it is, the money still exists, albeit in manuscript form, and can therefore be restored to its rightful owner. It seems to me that the occasion calls for another great sale of books and manuscripts – this time, the famous collection of Lord Nightingale. You would be well within your rights, I believe, to offer him a choice. He can answer for his fraud in a court of law, and hazard everything – his reputation, his liberty, even perhaps his life, as I cannot imagine him doing at all well in prison – on the uncertain views of a judge and jury, or he can set matters straight without excessive scrutiny by allowing his precious possessions to be sold and every penny repaid. And he would have to relinquish control of all financial matters for the future, of course. He must never be allowed to do this sort of thing again.’

‘The items he bought from Lord Harcourt’s collection, if indeed he did do so, may not be worth what he paid for them,’ Meg said anxiously. ‘He is quite obsessive, you know, and not rational, when it comes to his books, or so my mother has told me a dozen times.’

‘No, it’s quite true that they might not be of equal value to anyone else, but he’s been collecting for years, hasn’t he? I think you should be prepared to be quite ruthless, Nightingale, in making sure your sister gets her due. And really, I know it’s not your immediate concern, but I can’t help thinking that if indeed he’s tapped into one fund he had access to, he’s quite likely to have tapped into another. You should have a care to your own affairs too, and tell your man as much.’

‘By Jupiter, I wouldn’t be in the least surprised, now you put it like that. And it occurs to me, De Lacy, it would be no more than he deserves, if his precious collection has to be sold and he has to watch it,’ Francis agreed energetically. ‘Let the blackmailer be blackmailed in his turn! There’s a certain poetic what d’you call it about the whole thing, you know? Another of those Greek things, maybe, about the punishment fitting the crime. Like the cursed rum touch of a fellow whose food turned to gold because all he cared about was money. Might quite enjoy pointing that out to the old monster if I get the chance – just goes to show, education ain’t all bad, though we see the trouble it can get you into if taken to extremes. Makes you think.’

His companions agreed that it most certainly did, and they took leave of him in great satisfaction, Francis promising to go instantly to his lawyer’s office and to report back as soon as he knew anything, however insignificant it might seem.

‘A good afternoon’s work,’ Sir Dominic said, smiling down at Meg, after Mr Nightingale had departed.

‘It was, and I am glad Francis proved to be so amiable and amenable, and so happy to be a true brother to us at last, but I need to tell Maria everything that is happening. She must be excessively anxious, and it’s bound to take a few days for Francis’s lawyer to investigate matters, particularly if my father’s man of business is in league with him and throws up obstructions.’

‘I am sure Mr Clarke will be on the watch for that. This may all be resolved in a short while, Meg, if all goes to plan.’

‘Are you going to ask me to marry you again?’ she said, her face still troubled.

‘It’s not the time or the place, is it?’

‘No. Too much is still uncertain, too much could still go horribly wrong. And you can’t kiss me here, Dominic – it’s your mother’s house and she may come in at any moment, or your cousin, or a servant to clear away the tea things. I could not be comfortable.’

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, brushing it with the lightest touch that still made her shiver with frustrated desire. ‘It’s such a pity,’ he said, his voice low and seductive but his eyes full of laughter. ‘Although I’m not sure if I wish you to be comfortable, precisely. I had something far more exciting in mind.’

‘You are incorrigible,’ she said, her voice wavering between sternness and laughter. ‘You don’t want to reduce me to a quivering wreck on your mother’s sofa any more than I wish to be so reduced. Admit it!’

Together they looked at the sofa, which was a fashionable creation in shiny lilac satin, its gilded frame embellished with sphinxes and nameless knobbly Egyptian decorations that might perhaps be intended for stylised scarab beetles. As well as being ugly, it had an undeniably spindly appearance. And it wasn’t very large. ‘When I reduce you to a quivering wreck,’ Dominic said, ‘I promise you it will be in private, and on something much more solid.’

‘A bed?’ she asked wistfully. How wonderful it would be if all this could be over…

‘A very large bed, a rug in front of a fire, a couch in my summerhouse at midnight… Meg, I can think of a dozen places. A hundred.’

It was perhaps just as well that Cousin Sarah entered the room just then, to see if Lady De Lacy’s guests needed any more tea, or anything else to make them quite comfortable. Since they required nothing that she could provide, nor anyone else, they thanked her for her kindness, and took their farewells.

Dominic drove Meg to His Grace the Duke of Fernsby’s house and left her there, promising to return in an hour or so and escort her home. When she emerged, bearing the aspect of one who had been crying at some recent point, she said with a sniff, ‘Maria has been in a fever of anxiety over the last few days, and I cannot wonder at it. I was sorry not to be able to give her more definite news.’

‘How did she react to your suggestion that Lord Nightingale may have embezzled her fortune? I think you had not shared the suspicion with her before?’

‘I had not. She was very angry, of course, but when she had cursed our father in as many ways as she could conceive, and encouraged me to do the same, she agreed that it was all too horribly plausible, and that there can be no other obvious explanation for what has happened. She asked me to tell you that she is very sorry you should have become embroiled in our affairs, especially to the extent of finding yourself subject to something as shocking as blackmail.’

‘She has not said anything to distress you, or given you bad news? I know it is not in the least my affair, my dear, though I wish it were, but I cannot help but observe…’

Meg smiled rather damply at him. ‘How ungallant of you, to draw attention to the fact that I have been crying, sir! No, I am teasing you. We have been indulging ourselves in talking of the past, and of all the things our father has deprived us of, not least the chance to know our brother.’

‘The future will be very different, for all of you.’

‘Oh, Dominic, I do hope so.’