The Twelfth Enchantment

5

WITH LORD BYRON GONE, LUCY RETIRED TO HER ROOM TO REFLECT in silence on all that had happened. What an astonishing and terrible two days it had been. She had met Miss Crawford, who, though a stranger, and one she would likely never see again, enchanted Lucy with the illusion of friendship. She had perhaps—or perhaps not—used actual magic to aid a handsome man in need, and that man had turned out to be a peer, one who gave every sign of flirting with her. This was an exciting development, particularly since it was entirely possible she had ended her engagement with Mr. Olson. And now this peer had handed her what appeared to be her father’s will, which told a very different story from what the solicitors had presented.

Along with the will, dated only four months prior to her father’s death, Lucy found a reckoning of her father’s assets, which were far greater than the meager holdings and expansive debts of which the solicitor has spoken. According to the documents she held in her hands, Mr. Derrick had been possessed of investments that slightly exceeded ten thousand pounds. There was a matter of jewels that had belonged to Lucy’s mother, as well as some plate and paintings and a few diamonds. There were other objects of value as well, including furnishings, rugs, and the contents of his considerable library. The will specified that, at the time of its composition, Mr. Derrick was free of significant debts, and he expected only trivial claims against the estate.

Lucy well remembered the misery of sitting in the parlor of her old home, Harrington, with Martha holding her hand while Mr. Clencher, the solicitor—a man so thin he appeared on the cusp of expiring—explained the nature and consequences of the will. The solicitor had told them in his dispassionate voice that Mr. Derrick had died with many encumbrances. Once these had been settled, a sum of approximately 240 pounds would be divided between Martha and Lucy, in addition to a few items of jewelry, which were of indifferent value. What objects that would not need to be sold to pay off debts were to stay at Harrington. The will specified that the house should remain largely intact.

Once she understood the contents of the will, Martha immediately wrote to her cousin, Mr. Buckles, to accept his standing proposal of marriage. She said nothing to Lucy until she received a favorable reply, and the contract was complete in all but deed. “It is the best way I know of to take care of you,” Martha then explained to her sister. “You will live with us as long as you wish, and you will keep your things, and in every way you can, you will live as you have been used.”

Lucy had wanted to beg her yet again to not marry Buckles, but there was nothing to be gained in expressing an opinion with which Martha was familiar. Martha knew Lucy’s mind, and Lucy knew her sister’s. Martha would marry to protect Lucy, and nothing Lucy could say would prevent her from doing so. If there had been someone Lucy could have married first, to stop her sister, she would have done it, but there was no one. She was powerless to stop her sister’s sacrifice, and the best she could do was to honor it by pretending to be at peace with it.

Despite her good intentions, Martha had been unable to do much for Lucy. She and Mr. Buckles married at once, but no sooner had her new husband removed to Harrington than Lucy was made to depart. Mr. Buckles would not permit Lucy to join the household. His patroness, the Lady Harriett Dyer, whom he obeyed in all things, did not think it wise that so newly married a couple should be burdened with a troublesome and mischievous young girl, one whose reputation and loose morals presaged many difficulties to come. Martha rarely argued with anyone, and hated to quarrel with her new husband, but Lucy had heard the shouting as her sister pled her case, all to no effect. Mr. Buckles would not be moved. Lady Harriett had given her opinion, Mr. Buckles said. What did Martha mean by suggesting she not be heeded? Martha had no power over her husband, no wiles with which to force his hand. Lucy therefore went to the widower of her mother’s sister, Uncle Lowell in Nottingham, and Buckles magnanimously granted her an annuity of thirty pounds per annum.

Now, more than three years later, she held this will in her hands, feeling her anger build. If these pages had been written by her father, then either he had established monstrous debts in the last few months of his life, or Lucy and Martha had been horribly cheated. Instead of living in misery and want, she ought to be a free gentlewoman of independent means. Her share of the fortune, five thousand pounds, was hardly a staggering sum, but it was enough to establish a comfortable and independent life. It ought to have been hers. It was hers, and someone had conspired to steal it away.

Lucy tried to imagine who that someone might be. Perhaps her Uncle Lowell, who valued money so highly, but that hardly made sense. He certainly did not want for money, and prized his quiet even more than his wealth. An extra ten thousand pounds would not significantly improve his lot, but a dependent niece had clearly altered it for the worse.

Also a suspect was Mr. Buckles, but, again, the fact that he was in a position to manipulate her did not mean he possessed motivation to do so. Papa’s death meant that Mr. Buckles came into a comfortable and well-established estate that provided him with a healthy income from rents. If the new will were to be believed, Mr. Derrick had raised three daughters, set a handsome table, and stuffed a library full of books while managing to save ten thousand pounds. Surely the property itself was valuable enough to dissuade any man of some intelligence from such extremes. Beyond that, Mr. Buckles had the patronage of Lady Harriett, so if he had any serious wants, surely that lady would offer such assistance as he required. And above all else, forgery was a crime that carried the penalty of hanging with little chance of reprieve. No sane man would risk these consequences without a desperate motivation.

What of the solicitor Mr. Clencher? He would have been in an excellent position to deceive the courts, but Papa would never have done business with someone of so little integrity. If none of these men, then who? Perhaps some villain Lucy did not know. Of course, there remained yet another possibility—that the will she now held was the forgery—but who stood to gain from the creation of such a document? Lucy had nothing of her own to pay in the search for the truth, so this new will could hardly be part of a confidence game played upon her. More than that, the will felt right, just as the old one, she now understood, felt wrong.

All of which begged the question of what to do next. Lucy could not ask her uncle or brother-in-law for help because, though their guilt was certainly unlikely, they had nevertheless been the first two people she suspected. Similarly she could not ask Martha, since it would be wrong to set her upon a quest she must conceal from her odious husband and which, though it was but a remote possibility, might lead to her husband’s execution. She supposed she might ask Lord Byron, and the idea was not without its attractions. Unfortunately, Lord Byron had a reputation for rakishness and distraction, and these were not the traits a vulnerable young woman sought in a legal adviser. Moreover, in light of her near elopement with Jonas Morrison four years earlier, arranging clandestine meetings with Lord Byron was altogether too dangerous.

There was but one person Lucy could think of—Mary Crawford. Though their acquaintance was new, Lucy believed she could trust Miss Crawford. She had to trust someone, and a charming and independent lady of fashion, one whom Lucy had managed to impress, seemed to her the best possible choice. She hated to impose upon a stranger with something of this nature, but there was more in the balance here than mere money. Her father had wanted Lucy to have something, and an unknown person had interfered. Someone had thwarted her father’s dying wishes, had cheated a man as his body lay cold and his heart sat still in his chest. A lady like Miss Crawford, who had shown unmistakable signs of goodness, would not want so grave a crime to go unpunished.

No sooner had she determined this course of action than Uncle Lowell came to visit her. He knocked upon the door, which was polite, but did not wait for a response before entering, which was not. He had previously observed that it was his house, and he did not see that he must demand permission before entering any part of it. He would never have barged into his niece’s room at a time she might be dressing, but as Lucy was already dressed, he did not think she could be about anything he was not within his rights to witness.

He entered the room and paced back and forth for a moment, and then, at last, he spoke. “Now that the question of the man’s name has been answered, you are to pen a note of apology to Mr. Olson and send it at once.”

Lucy was in no mood to hear any demands from Uncle Lowell. “And what is it I must apologize for?” she asked, making no effort to soften her tone.

“Don’t stand upon ceremony, girl, unless you wish him to withdraw his offer.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” answered Lucy, for whom the revelation of the will had fueled her sense of persecution, “and I care not what he does.”

Uncle Lowell began to redden. His fists clenched and unclenched as he spoke. “That’s a damned pretty thing to say. Do you think he’s not heard of your whoring about with that scoundrel Morrison before you came here? Unless you wish him to believe the worst, you must convince Olson you are not engaged upon some adventure with that baron.”

He now saw the document in Lucy’s hand, and she observed that he saw it. She began to set it aside, though she realized too late that doing so was a mistake.

“What is that?”

Panic had her in its grips, and for a moment, Lucy could not think what to say. If she was made to hand over the will, everything could end at that moment. Maybe her uncle had stolen the money, and maybe he would simply not want the family name to become involved in a scandal over a few thousand pounds that were not even his. She could not allow him to make that decision, so Lucy forced herself to clear her mind and master her feelings. She held on to the will and met her uncle’s eye. “It is a letter from my sister.”

Uncle Lowell studied her carefully, perhaps sensing something amiss, but being a man too blunt for duplicity, he did not easily recognize it in others. After a moment he said, “I’ll hear no more arguments. You will write to Mr. Olson.”

Lucy felt strangely liberated. She very much liked the idea of playing a deep game, of keeping her options open, of possessing more information than anyone suspected.

“Certainly,” she told her uncle. Relieved that she had preserved her secret, she was prepared to offer a concession. “I shall write him at once.”