Page 45 of The Gilded Heiress

Leo

The next afternoon, I was back at the Pendelton mansion, staring at it as I leaned against a light pole, eating an apple.

Regret clawed in the pit of my stomach, churning and twisting with a relentless urgency. Even though I’d apologized, wished

Josie well, and said my goodbye, everything in me demanded that I seek her out once more, try to win her over.

Failure was a bitter taste in my mouth, but I had to accept my fate. This whole mess was my fault and I had to live with it.

The trick now was not to think about her so much. I had to keep busy by clearing my father’s name. I knew he was innocent—I

just needed to convince everyone else of that fact. Then I could return home with at least some good news for my family.

All morning I’d pored over the baby nurse’s letter, dissecting every word, looking for clues. Something was there, I knew

it.

Then a particular word had struck me.

Epitome.

The nurse used the word in the letter, and so had Freddie the groom during our conversation. Except Freddie mispronounced

it, almost as if he’d never heard it spoken and had only read it.

Could this be the student and tutor?

It explained why Freddie never found work elsewhere. How better to protect your life’s biggest secret than by sticking close

to the scene of the crime? The proximity would allow you to throw suspicion onto someone else.

Misdirection.

A tactic I knew well.

Tossing away the apple core, I started across the street and went around to the back. The gate was unlocked, so I edged into

the gardens. The weather was turning hotter and as a result the plants were blooming, fuller everywhere I looked. My father

would’ve loved to see it, even if it wasn’t as grand as his original design.

I trailed a row of boxwood shrubs toward the back of the property. The pebbled path crackled ever so softly beneath my shoes,

the only sound in the vast space. No one else was around from what I could see. Were the men in the carriage house? Or maybe

back in the stables?

I didn’t care how long I had to wait for an opportunity. I was going to search the groom’s belongings for any sort of proof

tying him to the baby nurse or the kidnapping.

As I drew closer, I could hear laughter and voices coming from the stables, behind the large carriage house. Good. Hopefully,

this meant Freddie wasn’t in his room.

The bedrooms were on the upper floor, so I slipped quietly through the carriage house and went up the stairs. I moved as silently

as the old floorboards would let me, hoping no one was up here. Most of the bedchambers were empty. The first one I came across

had a photograph of Georgie and a woman on the small nightstand, so I went on to the next room.

This bedchamber was sparse but clean, with a small bed and a dresser with a basin. There weren’t any visible personal effects,

so I began investigating, trying to learn who lived here.

A brush and shaving equipment. Clothes in the dresser. A cross. A small dying fern on a metal stand near the windowsill. Boots

and livery jackets in the tiny closet, so definitely a groom’s bedchamber. Where were the photographs and books?

I quickly checked the other rooms on the floor, easily learning who lived inside. That left the sparse room as Freddie’s.

I went back there and closed the door softly. If this were my room, where would I hide something that I didn’t want found?

Under the floor was too hackneyed. Any good Pinkerton would look there. Same with under the mattress or a false bottom in

a drawer. Any box or container was too risky. It had to be a place where no one would think to look.

My eyes went to the dead fern.

Indeed, that’s what any good thief would do.

I went over and began poking the soil. Dry as a bone. No wonder the plant hadn’t lived. I began digging underneath, looking

for anything that might be hidden in the bottom of the container. Some dirt spilled out of the side, but I didn’t stop, getting

my hand lower in the pot.

I hit something.

I poked it with my fingers and the object gave slightly, like maybe it was leather or cloth.

Quickly, I held the pot out of the window, removed the fern, and let the dirt fall to the ground. A lump of oiled leather

remained in the container.

Hallelujah.

I set the dead fern and pot down and removed the packet, my fingers steady as I unwrapped the leather. It could be nothing.

It might not be the key to clearing my father’s name.

Folded papers fell out into my palms. I recognized this paper. It was exactly like the kind I’d taken from Detective Porter.

The letters.

Holy shit.

Of course. Freddie hadn’t needed to give all of them away when he framed my father. Just enough to make the affair seem believable.

So what did these letters contain?

I began reading.

Like the others, these were written from the baby nurse to Freddie, only with more detailed plans about the kidnapping and

the life they’d lead after collecting the ransom. They were addressed to Freddie by name, which explained why he hadn’t used

them to ruin my father’s life.

Goddamn it.

My anger grew as I continued to read. These two were discussing the kidnapping of a baby, a little girl, like she was a diamond

bracelet or gold ingot. Like a thing, not a person. They both resented the Pendeltons and their wealth, felt entitled to some

of it. Never once did they consider the destruction that would be left behind...

I paused and looked out the window. Hadn’t Josie said the same to me when I tried to explain my reasons for swindling the

Pendeltons?

It’s still stealing, Leo. And there is no justification that excuses it. Don’t you think these people have suffered enough?

Shame tightened between my shoulder blades. No wonder she wanted me out of her life. I was no better than the kidnappers.

I shoved that aside for now. This was no time for deep personal reflection.

The baby nurse mentioned taking the baby and staying with a distant friend in Boston, somewhere they could avoid detection—

Wood creaked nearby. I waited but didn’t hear another sound. I decided I had all I needed, so I took one of the letters and

put it in my pocket. Then I wrapped the others in the leather, placed them back in the pot, and replaced the fern. I cleaned

up until there was no trace of dirt on the floor and everything looked exactly as it had when I entered.

Listening at the door, I heard only silence. I hurried into the hall and crept toward the stairs. I couldn’t tell if anyone

was down there or not, so I went slowly, carefully, making no noise. When I reached the ground floor, it was empty.

I darted through the entrance and into the shrubbery. Should I show this letter to the Pendeltons? Something told me Mrs.

Pendelton wouldn’t be amenable to hearing anything I had to say.

No, I needed to take this letter to Detective Porter. There I would confess where I found it and why, then the police could

come here and discover the rest of the letters.

Freddie would be arrested before nightfall.