Page 100 of The Bachelor Spy
“I have been wounded by chlorine gas, Mother.” Frederick kept his tone calm, but there was an edge beneath his words. He had struggled a great deal to forgive his mother for the part she had played in the deaths of his father and brother. A crime that led to Frederick inheriting the earldom of Havensbrooke.
But Grace knew he was trying. Praying. Asking God to help him grasp grace with both hands and share it with others, even those who seemed to neither care for nor deserve it.
Wasn’t that the very essence of grace?
“Are you blind?” The question came so abruptly that it startled Grace.
“No, but currently my vision is not what it was,” he answered with some resignation in his voice. “My doctor, however, is optimistic for a near-full recovery.”
“Hmm.” Lady Moriah studied him a moment before turning her gaze on Grace. “So, the news is all over the village,” she said without preamble, her cane tapping once against the floor before she sat regally before them. “You’ve finally come to gloat about your condition, I suppose. Flaunting the Percy heir?”
“We cannot know if it is a boy or not yet,” Grace offered, attempting to keep her voice light.Catch the spider with honey, not vinegar, Grace!Though she had to admit, she’d been trying honey for quite some time with very little progress. Vinegar might be Lady Moriah’s preference, if one judged by her typical sour expression. “But Dr. Ross believes the baby should arrive just after Christmas! Won’t that be exciting?”
The woman’s expression flickered with uncertainty before she looked away. “I’m too old to feel excitement, girl. All it does is raise expectations that will never be met and end in a case of the vapors.”
Frederick groaned and leaned forward. “Then perhaps we should get on with our visit, since you seem indisposed to charitable conversation.”
“I would be more charitable if you moved me back to my home at Havensbrooke.”
“We’ve already discussed this, Mother.” Frederick’s body tensed for the familiar fight. “The nature of your situation requires you to be near town for—”
“Very well …” She waved away his words with an impatient hand. “I do not need you to recount the pitiful state of my life at present. Share your reasons for being here so I may return to my exile.”
“Why don’t you embrace the good you have left in this world?” Grace couldn’t help the question. Couldn’t help attempting to verbally shake the woman. “We are not your enemies. We wish to be a part of your life. The reason you’re here is due to your own choices. But you get to choose how you finish your days and how you leave this world.”
The woman turned away, the slightest weakening of her chin the only sign Grace’s words had made any mark.
Frederick gave a small shake of his head—a warning to leave it be. “We’ve come to ask you about a former employee of Havensbrooke. Someone who worked during Grandfather’s time but was dismissed during Father’s. His name was Crawford.”
The change in Lady Moriah was immediate. Her knuckles whitened on her cane, her already pale face going ashen. “Crawford.” She spat out the name. “That thieving wretch? Why on earth would you want to discusshim?”
Well, that certainly matched with what they’d heard.
“Because new information has come to light regarding him,” Frederick answered carefully. “We’re in need of clarification.”
“The scoundrel.” Her palm went to her throat. “Do you realize he stole the Astley family jewels? Heirlooms that belonged to your father, tome.Precious treasures that not only would have displayed our importance but, should we ever need additional funds, could serve as insurance for Havensbrooke. And that rogue, after earning years of trust within this family,stolethem.”
So Pennington was after the Astley family jewels? Grace looked over at Frederick, but his expression gave nothing away.
“And what was done to retrieve them?”
“Everything!” His mother scowled, eyes glinting with old malice. “Police, investigators … everyone was employed to find those jewels and prove Crawford—the sniveling footman—as the ungrateful thief he was. But nothing was ever recovered, and they were lost.”
“So he wasn’t found guilty of the crime?” Grace asked.
“Of course not!” Lady Moriah hissed. “He refused to admit his guilt or share the location where he’d hidden the jewels. Naturally, we dismissed him. Made certain he’d never work again.” Her mouth twisted. “A fitting punishment for such a man.”
Which left Crawford ruined—his reputation destroyed, his family … destitute? No wonder Pennington was angry. And desperate.
“And during the search for the jewels,” Grace asked, “did they look in the old ruins or, perhaps, the chapel tunnels?”
“Why on earth would anyone wish to look there?” Lady Moriah sniffed dismissively. “The ruins are nothing but crumbling stone, and the tunnels, I should think, are half collapsed by now. Your father sealed them up years ago. Too dangerous, he said.”
So the jewels could still be there!
Grace tried very hard to keep her expression neutral. She’d witnessed other people find treasures but hadn’t discovered any herself, which seemed a true disappointment since she’d spent a great deal of her fictional time learning precisely how to do so.
Though in all honesty, shedidget to find a few hidden jewels in Scotland, so perhaps her fictional prowess wasn’t wasted after all.
