“It is less than a mile on from Connors’s offices.”
Fitzwilliam nodded.
One of the clerks showed them back into the solicitor’s private office, and they sat only a minute or two before Mr. Connors entered.
“We shall have it cleared up in no time, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Connors assured him. “However, it does help to have you here. Mr. Theophilus may not have realised that all his debts were to be paid from his bequest before he received it. I daresay he was distressed by how little remained, but those were the stipulations his brother set out. He has been paid everything he is due.”
“He requires more to live on?” Fitzwilliam inquired.
“So it would seem,” was the solicitor’s reply. “There are no legal grounds for him to contest the will, but he has a few well-placed friends who might attempt to rattle you into offering him more money or clearing any new debts. My advice would be to ignore them.”
Darcy leaned back in his chair. “I did not ask before as I was distracted by all the formalities, but I should like to know when my great-uncle changed his will.”
“He never told you, then?” Mr. Conners was perhaps a decade older than Darcy, with a pair of spectacles perched on the end of his nose and thinning hair. “I admit to wondering.” He checked in the file. “Almost four years ago.”
“So not at the time of my father’s death,” Darcy muttered. “At least a year later.”
“I do not know what precipitated the change if that is what you are after, Mr. Darcy,” the solicitor said. “Your great-uncle was a private man.”
They remained with Connors for three-quarters of an hour to review the will and all corresponding documents. Everything appeared to be in order, and Darcy confirmed that his copies were still in the safe in his London home.
“Mr. Theophilus had long been a client of this firm, but he has now engaged another solicitor. I shall speak with the man tomorrow and send a note over with any news,” he said as he stood with the file.
“Very good,” Darcy said. “Thank you, Connors.” He turned to Fitzwilliam. “Do we still have time to make it out to see Vaughan?”
“We shall have to be quick about it,” Fitzwilliam said, checking his watch before shoving it back in his pocket. “I do not fancy being in St. Giles at dark. Not in these clothes.”
“Agreed.” Darcy took his hat from the clerk and strode outside, where a young boy from the office was watching their horses. Darcy gave the boy a shilling, and when he was atop his horse, he saw Fitzwilliam handing the boy another.
“Now he will always expect more from us,” Darcy said, amused.
“He looked hungry. We have many shillings, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam retorted as he swung up expertly into his saddle.
“Yes, we do,” Darcy replied. “I am pleased that you now realise it.”
Fitzwilliam tossed a sour look in his direction and turned his horse towards St. Giles.
Chapter Twenty-Three
TheareaaroundSt.Giles was desperately poor, and Darcy felt rather out of place in his new clothes, though he believed himself too large to be an inviting target for anything more than a pickpocket. He handed a coin to a young man who approached.
“Watch the horses. We will be back shortly.”
The young man nodded, his eyes widening a bit as he gazed up at Darcy.
He softened his commanding tone a bit. “Do a good job, and I will give you another shilling when we return.”
The resulting smile and nod made Fitzwilliam shake his head as he handed his reins over.
“Now who will be seen as an easy target?”
Darcy shrugged. “Not me. Not if they have eyes.”
That produced a guffaw from his cousin. “True. I forget that most see you only as a great hulking fellow.”
They approached a small alley and turned to glance down it before stepping forward. Before they could complete the movement, they were distracted by a call from behind.
“Colonel!”