Part 15 (1/2)
”The rumor claims that you were quite friendly with Napoleon and might still be working for him.”
”Surely you cannot believe that.” His voice cracked, the shock in his eyes proving his innocence. It was rapidly overwhelmed by fury.
”I don't know you,” she pointed out, wondering what he might say.
”I'm the same man I was before,” he protested.
She merely stared.
He inhaled twice to bring himself under control. ”I met the Corsican monster at a reception shortly after he was declared Consul for Life. He made a point of personally greeting all the English who were in attendance-several dozen of us, for many flocked to Paris during the Peace of Amiens, you might recall. I found him charming on the surface, but calculating beneath. It was obvious that he was only biding his time until he felt ready to attack again.”
”Bridwell also claims that you remained in France long after the peace collapsed.”
”No. I was in Vienna by then. Once we heard about the decrees against Englishmen, I moved on to Naples. Austria has changed allegiance more than once since this affair started, and I didn't want to take any chances.”
”So who would know you had met Napoleon?”
”John.”
”Why would he care?”
”I no longer try to explain his actions. He must have delegated someone to follow me when I left Ridgeway.”
”Of course!”
He raised his brows.
”When John fired the staff, he kept one man on-your father's valet.”
”It makes sense. Rigby-his own valet-would have done anything for him, so delegating him to follow me is not surprising. Morrell was the obvious man to keep. Without a reference, he was unemployable. He could not afford to retire, for Father had left him only a modest legacy. And John hated him.”
”Why?”
”More than once Morrell divulged the truth when John was blaming me for his own escapades. Father never questioned Morrell's word, even when it implicated John.”
”Poor Morrell. No wonder he killed himself.”
”What?” James blanched, his sudden fists jerking his horse off the path.
”He jumped from the tower a year later.”
”Another sin on John's shoulders. I just discovered that he impersonated me, making me appear equally cruel.”
”You didn't know that?” She pulled Acorn to a halt, her mouth hanging open in shock.
”How could I? I wasn't here.”
Why had she spoken aloud? She s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably, wis.h.i.+ng herself elsewhere.
”What are you hiding, now?” he demanded.
”Nothing. I was just amazed at your ignorance. He has impersonated you for as long as I can remember.”
”Why did you never tell me?”
”I thought you knew. You must have known. Only the most credulous could have fallen for his act, for he wasn't all that good at it. I never had any trouble telling you apart.”
But some had been fooled, she recalled. John had tricked the Adams brothers half a dozen times before she had revealed the truth. And her father, who was far from stupid, had been confused more than once. So it must have been something else that gave him away. His soul, perhaps? She had always sensed the character beneath the face, not even needing sight to tell the difference.
He sighed. ”You are one of the few then. Most people accepted his word about his ident.i.ty. And he deliberately sought to destroy me. Spreading lies-like the spy tale-wasn't enough to satisfy him.” He explained his conversation with Cotter.
”Calumny was one of his specialties,” she agreed, recalling the many stories John had spread about her. ”But it means the servants will never trust you.”
”Why should they matter more than tenants and neighbors?”
”They may know something vital. John was unexpectedly summoned to meet a man on the day of his death. He attacked one of the footmen, demanding to know when and how the note had arrived, but the boy knew nothing.” She repeated Miss Hardaway's story.
”Who was it?”
”Robby. His brother works for Miss Hardaway. She believes John's killer followed him here to repay him for double-crossing him in some illegal scheme.”
”It won't do. That attack on me was connected.”
”I know, but arguing with Miss Hardaway would have revealed that. Yet it is unlikely that John was deeply involved with any local wrongdoers, for he was rarely here. Of course, he might have stumbled across another man's crime.”
”How ironic if he died for something he didn't do. Did Miss Hardaway mention the summons to Isaac?”
She nodded. ”But he dismissed the notion-this was during his search for the mythical highwayman. He never spoke of it again, but she did hear that no note was found.”
”I will look into it.” He sighed. ”That explains what he was doing on that road, and why the killer expected him. But it makes it less likely the staff knows anything useful.” He recounted his morning explorations and his hope that someone had overheard John making an a.s.signation.
”So we haven't made any real progress.”
”Yes, we have. Robby may know more. In particular, he may have understood some of John's mutterings. And the killer is definitely local-no outsider would know Brewster's Ridge. We just don't have a name yet.”
She nodded.
”I tried to find out who was at the l.u.s.ty Maiden the night Northrup died, but no one remembers. The usual crowd includes merchants, servants, tenants, and members of the gentry, but until Northrup's body was found, nothing had seemed different from any other night. There were no arguments, no unpleasantness. I don't want to press or the questions will raise suspicions.”
”I doubt anything will turn up. If there had been anything odd, rumors would have started long ago.”
”I don't know. Memory can be a funny thing. Sometimes hindsight offers a new perspective on events. Remember Miss Crabbe? She could cite chapter and verse of every mistake made by every resident in Ridgefield for the previous fifty years.”
'True. And wasn't she proud of it! I always held my breath when she came to call for fear I would do something awful. She would have made sure every person in town heard about it.”
”But she was not above admitting that she'd been wrong. She had one story about old Barnes that made his face turn red every time he heard it, but after Tate's wife died, Tate admitted that the fault had actually been his. Miss Crabbe apologized very publicly to Barnes and even claimed she should have figured out the truth for herself. In reviewing her memories, she was able to point out the evidence that she had misinterpreted.”