Honoria
I am not being foolish, Anthony. Stop being a man, and look past her pretty face and elegant figure. Women are capable of killing to get what they want.
I am sure they are. But there is no reason to think that she did.
I believe Edmund had discovered what she was like. Anthony, he cut her out of his will. Why else would a man do that except that he knew she was a rapacious harpy who married him for his money? Or that she was having an affair with another man? Perhaps both.
Edmund cut her from the will?
Yes. He did not leave her a cent.
Anthony scowled. It would take something very compelling to make a man like Edmund leave his wife nothing to live on. Still, Honoria, that would argue against her killing him. She would get nothing.
Well, she may not have known that before she murdered him. She might not have realized he had changed his will. Besides, there is a way that she can get to his money. Edmund left everything to his sisteroutside of his entailed estate, of course, which goes to Sir Malcolm. Why he would have done that, I do not know. I am his mother, after all, and
He left you nothing? Anthony asked skeptically.
Oh, he left me a bit, Honoria allowed, waving it away. A mere pittance, really. However, that is a mothers lot, I suppose. She released the sigh of a martyr.
But how does this help Lady Eleanor? Anthony asked, dragging Honoria back to the subject at hand.
He left control of the trust to her! Honoria said indignantly. Even though I am Samanthas mother, he did not make me guardian of her money until she comes of age. He left That Woman as sole trustee!
Why would he cut Lady Eleanor out of his will, then put her in charge of Samanthas money for the next six years? Anthony asked.
I dont know. Edmund was never one who understood money.
Anthony thought that her statement was a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, but he wisely refrained from pointing this out.
You have to see what an opportunity this presents for her to siphon off money from the trust, Honoria told him. She wrote me saying she would explain the trust to me when she brings poor Edmunds ashes home. I do not need any explanation. It is quite clear to me what she intends to do. My poor daughter and I will live in poverty, while she bleeds Samanthas trust dry.
Honoria, calm yourself. I will not let that happen, Anthony promised her grimly. Even allowing for Honorias usual gift of hyperbole, Anthony was troubled by what she had told him. It did not make sense, really, but neither could he ignore Honorias theories. If Lady Eleanor did indeed have control of Samanthas money, she could easily take out a great deal of it without anyones noticing. And there were several suspicious things about Edmunds death.
But how can you stop her? She has gotten away with murder, and she has control over Samanthas money.
I will go to see the woman, he told Honoria. And I will make sure she realizes that if anything is amiss, she will have to answer to me.
ELEANOR STEPPED DOWN out of the carriage and simply stood for a moment, looking up at her house. It was an elegant white stone structure, with clean, symmetrical lines, and it warmed her heart to look at it again. It had been almost a year since she had been here, and it wasnt until she saw it again that she realized how much she had missed it.
The children bounced out of the carriage after her, letting out a whoop at the freedom after being confined in the carriage all day. Look! Were home!
Their amah, a small, quiet Indian woman named Kerani, followed them at a more sedate pace. Wait, please, she called after them softly, and it was a measure of their affection for her that they waited at the bottom of the stoop, bouncing up and down, as she walked over to join them.
The front door was opened by a grinning footman, who stood aside to let Bartwell exit the door first. Miss Eleanor!
Bartwells well-worn face was creased with a smile. One would have thought, Eleanor told herself affectionately, that it had been months since her old friend and butler had seen them, rather than the few days it had actually been. The servants had gone ahead to open the house and prepare it as soon as their ship had pulled into port, while she and the children had stayed behind for a few days. It had given the children a much-needed respite from traveling. The days cooped up on the ship they had taken from Italy had left them bored and full of pent-up energy. It had also served, much to Eleanors delight, as a means of breaking free of the smothering company of Mr. and Mrs. Colton-Smythe.
Hugo Colton-Smythe, a middle-aged cousin to a minor baron and a lifelong civil servant, and his wife, Adelaide, had been traveling on the same ship home from Naples to England as Eleanor, and they had taken it upon themselves to provide her with their respectable chaperonage. Only six months a widow, she was not, they were sure, up to dealing with all the exigencies of life, even the restricted sort of life aboard ship, and certainly she should be shielded from the importunate advances of the other passengers, many of whom were foreigners, and several of whom, they were sure, were adventurers seeking out a vulnerable wealthy widow.
Eleanor knew that kindness had been their main motiveand ignored the uncharitable thought that they were almost as interested in being able to drop into conversation little tidbits, such as, When we were traveling with Lady Scarbrough However, she had found it an ever-increasing chore to put up with their mundane conversation and stultifying outlook on life.
She had been afraid that they would want to ride on with her to London, and for that reason, the thought of spending a few extra days in port while Bartwell saw to the house had seemed a godsend to her.
Bartwell, she greeted the butler with a happy smile and a quick hug. Most people, she knew, found her choice of butler strange. He was a retired pugilist who had worked for her father since Eleanor was a child, and he was as fond of her as if she had been his own daughter. He had accompanied her when her father had sent her to school in England when she was fifteen, and she had been grateful for his companionship as much as for his protection. I trust everything is in order.
Oh, the usual, miss, he told her with a grin. That Frenchified cook of yours is throwing a fit. But weve got the house all tidy and ready for you and the little ones.
He turned to the little ones in question, nodding his head in polite greeting to the shy, soft-spoken Indian woman before inviting Nathan to show him his boxing form, holding up his hands as targets, then admiring Claires new bonnet.
Eleanor reached back into the carriage and pulled out the teak box that had traveled on the seat beside her all the way from the coast. It was dark, made of the finest wood and beautifully carved, and its hinges and fastening were fashioned of gold.
Swallowing the lump that rose in her throat, Eleanor murmured, Youre home at last, my dear.
Miss Elly, a deep voice behind her said. Welcome home. Here, let me take that for you.
Eleanor turned, smiling. Hello, Zachary. It is good to see you.
Zachary was another of her employees whose presence in her household was the focus of much gossip, Eleanor knew. His skin was darknot much lighter, in truth, than the box she held in her handsand because of this, the ton found it scandalous that Zachary was not a liveried servant but Eleanors man of business. Zachary and his mother had been slaves, belonging to a Southern man whom Eleanors father had been visiting. Eleanors father had purchased both the boy and his mother, and had freed them when he returned home. Zacharys mother had become the cook in her fathers home, but Mr. Townsend, seeing the young boys intelligence, had paid for Zachary to be educated. He had worked for Mr. Townsend after he had gotten out of school, and upon her fathers death a few years ago, he had come to work for her, handling the details of Eleanors business affairs.