‘I’m the oldest,’ one said in a heated whisper. That must be Percy.
‘I shouldn’t think she wants to look at another Prescott,’ the other one said gloomily.
‘I suppose we can hardly blame her, George. And it would be like marrying one’s sister, damn it. I mean, we grew up together. Even so…’
‘Even so, she wasn’t a pretty thing with a good solid dowry then,’ his brother said.
‘True,’ George said. ‘She never seemed very happy about marrying Cousin Henry, did she?’
‘Dull old stick. One of us would be more fun, but we’ve no title, have we?’
‘Don’t think she was ever worried about that, whatever her parents wanted. Never said anything, but I found her crying, the day after it was announced. Wouldn’t say why, though.’
Silence. Then, ‘You don’t think she – No. No, that’s ridiculous. Arabella wouldn’t…’
‘It must have been someone he trusted, though,’ George said slowly. ‘He wouldn’t have been on his guard against a woman.’
‘You can’t talk about a lady like that,’ Percy protested. ‘And certainly not a friend of ours.’
‘You’re right.’ There was some shuffling of feet, then the pair of them got up and wandered back into the room.
My head was spinning. Obviously I didn’t know the young men, but they had sounded decidedly uncomfortable to me, even more uncomfortable than the awkward and tragic subject matter warranted.
Could they really believe Arabella Jordan had killed her betrothed when she could have simply jilted him? Could either of them have killed their cousin in order to marry Arabella? I needed to talk things through with the others.
I located Lady Radcliffe and James. James rolled his eyes at me and, while his mother would never do such a thing, I thought she too had had quite enough of the Prescotts and their wake. Mercifully, footmen were circulating with trays of something alcoholic and we downed two each in rapid succession.
By the time Luc appeared we were struggling to look appropriately sombre – let alone sober.
‘Come on, I want to get out of these clothes,’ he muttered, running a finger around his high collar.
We said our farewells, shook hands with at least a dozen people, and finally escaped to the privacy of our carriage.
‘That was very strange,’ James said. ‘Is anyone sorry the poor devil is dead?’
‘Adrien is. He liked him,’ I offered.
‘He respected him,’ Luc corrected. ‘I don’t think he had any feelings of actual affection for him. I suspect that was also the case with Adrien’s father, Alexander.’
I agreed with that. ‘I think that the respect came from his sense of duty to the head of the family, rather than personally. I have no clue about whether he was actually fond of his nephew or not. In any case, he would be a saint not to be pleased about how this benefits his family. I spoke to his eldest son’s wife and I can see she is counting the days until Doctor Prescott dies. I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes if he decides to marry.’
Luc snorted. ‘Having met him, I cannot see him doing that for a moment. The man is furious that all this nonsense – by which I understand him to mean his inheritance of the title, rather than his nephew’s death – is dragging him away from his comfortable den in his college. But you can allow him his reluctance to take on the endless decisions that are being asked of him: the poor devil is dying by inches and I doubt he’ll last the year. If you are suggesting that he takes some young woman to his bed to produce an heir, I should say that even the thought would finish him off.’
‘I am waiting to hear more about that intriguing young man from India,’ Lady Radcliffe said, dispensing a mother’s glare of disapproval between her sons who were both smirking.
‘He is what he appears to be,’ Luc said. ‘The likeness to the other men in the family is very pronounced and he makes no bones about his parents not marrying. He has paperwork from the priest in charge of St John’s cathedral in Calcutta where he was baptised and letters from various East India Company officials who are his employers. They required family documentation before taking him on. His father left instructions with his will that the small estate he owned in County Durham should go to Inish and left it in the trust of his brother Clarence – the father of our murdered man – until his son could come and claim his inheritance.’
‘So why did the rest of the family not know?’ James said, frowning. ‘Surely Archibald’s will was read when it reached England? Presumably the army sent back his possessions.’
‘I asked that. Apparently the instruction was not in the actual will, but in a letter accompanying it. It was not read out because of offending the ladies with mention of an illegitimate child.’
His mother gave a very unladylike snort.
‘Quite. The Viscount knew and Henry, as the heir, also knew, but they were the only ones.’
‘Durham? That seems strange, given that all the family estates are here on the Buckinghamshire-Hertfordshire border,’ I said.
‘Probably an investment purchase of the Colonel’s,’ Luc suggested. ‘He may well have employed an agent in this country and instructed him to find something and he identified a bargain. I have property scattered all over England.’