He did not want to scare the fellow by mentioning the wordmurder. He did not want to be responsible for the man’s heart giving out.
Hatton slumped back in the chair. “Then you have my condolences, sir. These things are never easy. What one loses on the one hand, one gains in the other.” He gave a weary sigh. “Well, I suppose I should ask the relevant questions.”
“Holland’s aunt, Mrs Waltham, will inform you of the details, for I expect she means to contest the will.” Nicholas did not want to lie to the solicitor. “I have pressing business elsewhere but need you to write a letter stating I’m named beneficiary, which I will pay for, of course.”
Hatton’s gaze grew suspicious. “Do you have any means of identification, sir? An official letter or the like?” He used friendly banter to make light of his request. “Anyone could walk in here and make such claims.”
No. He had nothing but the clothes on his back.
Nicholas snorted. “I’m not asking for the keys to Oakmere. Being the unlikely heir, doubtless the matter will be decided by the Prerogative Court.”
“Which is why I find your request for a letter unusual.” For a doddery man, Hatton could be quite firm in his opinion. “As you say, the estate is not yours until probate is granted.”
Helen interjected. “I have something that might inspire confidence in the request, sir.” She reached into Delphine’s blue velvet reticule, removed a small letter and handed it to Mr Hatton. “It bears Lady Brompton’s seal.”
Nicholas frowned. She had made no mention of the letter. Indeed, his heart raced while considering what the hell Lady Brompton had written inside.
“You wish me to break the seal?” Mr Hatton turned the letter over in his hand. “To whom it may concern,” he said, reading the elegant script.
Helen waved for him to continue. “I must be honest with you, Mr Hatton. Lady Brompton has hired me to investigate an incident at her estate in Surrey. The untimely death of Mr Charles Holland.”
What in blazes?
They had agreed not to mention the murder.
Hatton jerked his head in response. “Hired, madam? Are you telling me the man died under suspicious circumstances?”
“That is what we are trying to establish, sir.” She gestured to Nicholas. “Being the heir, Mr St Clair is considered a suspect. As I am his alibi, I can assure you he is innocent of the crime. Still, someone ran our carriage off the road and is determined to halt our investigation.”
It hadn’t happened in that precise order but needs must.
Not wishing to feel useless, Nicholas added, “We must speak to the staff at Oakmere to establish if they know why someone would want to hurt Charles Holland.”
Hatton’s curious gaze flitted between them. “I see.” He tore open the seal, peeled back the folds and read the missive through crooked spectacles.
The room fell silent but for the persistent ticking of the mantel clock and the creak of the chair.
Tension clawed at Nicholas’ shoulders. Had Lady Brompton betrayed him? Had she sought a means to get rid of him so Mrs Waltham could stake a claim to the estate?
He turned to Helen and whispered, “I pray you were right to trust Lady Brompton.” He hated putting his life in the hands of the precarious widow.
Hatton smiled and offered Helen the note. “You have friends in high places,” he said, unaware he was speaking to a viscount’s sister. “Lady Brompton confirms you have her full support.”
“She encouraged me to present the letter if I encountered a problem.” Helen scanned the missive briefly before passing it to Nicholas.
Written in her flamboyant flourish, Lady Brompton warned the reader not to question the honour of such a courageous young gal.
“I can write a letter explaining you’re named as heir in Charles Holland’s will,” Hatton said after some deliberation. “Though I’m afraid I cannot charge the fee to the estate.”
Nicholas nodded. “That will suffice.” The mention of a solicitor’s letter at Oakmere would be enough to convince the staff he spoke in earnest. “And I’ll pay you now.”
Hatton prepared the paper and ink and trimmed his quill.
With an unsteady hand, he produced an official document and stamped it with the Hatton seal. He rolled it into a scroll, fastened it with black ribbon, and gave it to Nicholas in exchange for the ten shillings fee.
“Return once you have concluded your business.” Gripping the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white, Hatton stood. “Once the death is confirmed, we will begin proceedings.”
Nicholas pushed to his feet and assisted Helen out of the chair. After thanking Hatton and bidding him good day, Nicholas paused at the door.