Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery John Pilkington (story reading .TXT) 📖

remained calm. ‘The man must burn with revenge, after you thwarted him last year,’ she said after a while. ‘He’s acquainted with important men – as is his wife. That woman would use any means to hurt us. She could even have spread the word about Thirldon’s desirability herself.’

‘It may be so,’ I breathed.

A great weight had settled upon me. I turned my attention to George’s letter again, re-reading it for perhaps the third time. He had learned of the King’s intention to purchase Thirldon from another lawyer who was well versed in Court affairs, and was doing his best to find out more. Meanwhile his wife, my beloved daughter Anne, was distraught at the thought of losing our family estate. The two of them assured me that, should matters go as we feared, Hester and I would have a home with them for as long as we wished. Lifting my gaze, I repeated the offer to the others.

‘Why, it sounds as if we are to become homeless,’ Hester said. ‘I’ve heard the King can be parsimonious, but surely he would offer a fair price for the estate?’

‘He might offer it,’ I told her. ‘But when, or even if he would pay up, is another matter entirely.’

Childers let out a long breath; he was looking even older than his years, which were approaching seventy. ‘The Great Comet,’ he said gloomily. ‘I knew it boded ill – I said so, did I not?’

‘That’s fluff and flummery,’ Hester retorted. But her eyes were on the floor, and the words carried little conviction. Once again we lapsed into silence, until with an effort I managed to summon some spirit.

‘See now, it’s not done yet,’ I said. ‘There will be papers to draw up… George Bull is an able man, and not without influence. He offers to petition the King on my behalf, which would at least spare me travelling to London, cap in hand. The business could be delayed, at least long enough for me to find some other suitable property, not far away. Even if it comes to renting-’

‘By God, sir!’ At that, Childers looked aghast. ‘Are you to be reduced to house-hunting? It’s intolerable, for a gentleman of your standing…’ He trailed off, struggling to master himself. And even Hester, who was sometimes impatient with my oldest servant, was moved to pity him.

‘I cannot believe it will come to that,’ she said. ‘Master Justice will speak with friends from his Inns of Court days… there must be some who can offer advice. Is it not so?’

Meeting her gaze, I managed a nod. ‘Indeed… I will begin writing letters, first thing tomorrow. Including to Sir Samuel Sandys – why should I not? Our High Sheriff is a man of ability and integrity. He may be able to shed some light on the matter… or then again, he may not.’

I paused, glancing at each of them in turn. ‘In the meantime, nothing must be said to the servants about this,’ I added. ‘All should appear as normal – I’ll not have them distressed. If anyone has heard a rumour, it must be denied with force. I’m counting on you both.’

We exchanged looks, but there was no need for further words. When it came to Hester and Childers, my trust was as firm as it had always been. Soon afterwards we went to our beds, but I doubt if either of them slept, any more than I did. How the coming days and weeks would pass, we could not know.

But two days later I was interrupted at my desk to receive another letter, of a very different nature to the one from my son-in-law. I had no inkling then that it would prove to be pivotal with regard to my future - but so it was.

***

It was Wednesday, and I seemed to have done little but send out messages since the fateful news had arrived from George. Naturally I asked him to petition the King as he had offered, and to keep me abreast of all that occurred. I also wrote to lawyers who had been fellow-students in my days at Gray’s Inn, though with little hope that they could offer any assistance. Hence, I was somewhat irritated by the distraction of hearing from a friend I had not seen in years: Sir Richard Mountford, a landowner who lived downriver, near the village of Upton. He and I had little in common these days, Mountford having invested heavily in such commodities as iron ore and timber, by which means he had built a substantial fortune. My first thought, preoccupied as I was, had been to set his letter aside, until I saw the black tags which adorned it. So I broke the seal, and read the sad news: Mountford’s younger brother John, whom I too had known, was dead, killed in a tragic accident. The man was broken with grief, and appeared to be reaching out to those he knew, for whatever comfort they might offer.

At dinner I showed the letter to Hester. Childers was elsewhere, striving to keep himself busy; it was all he could do, to ward off the gloom that threatened to overwhelm him.

‘Mountford invites me to visit his manor, Foxhill,’ I said. ‘It’s impossible just now, of course… I can only send him my condolences.’

‘It’s only a two-hour ride away,’ Hester said, alert on a sudden. ‘The diversion would take your mind off your troubles. Surely you’ve written to everyone you know by now?’

‘I suppose so… but I’m hardly the one to cheer a bereaved man at such a time. We would merely be fellows in misery.’

‘He’s in want of a sympathetic ear,’ Hester said. ‘You can offer that, at least. It’s precisely the distraction you need, instead of losing sleep and fretting while George acts on your behalf in London.’

As always, she was winning the argument. And now