Raven (Gentlemen of the Order #2) - Adele Clee Page 0,43

I didn’t ask if you believed Fitzroy’s tale.”

While briefly considering all they had learned this evening, Finlay glanced out of the window. They had left the bustling streets of the metropolis and entered the rural province of Chelsea. Soon, they would be at Keel Hall, and a private conversation would be nigh on impossible.

“I didn’t necessarily believe it or disbelieve it.” He’d thought it too much of a coincidence, but where else would Adair have discovered the information? “We need to question Dr Goodwin to get to the truth. Jessica has lived peacefully at Blackborne all these years. So what changed?”

Lost in thoughtful contemplation, Sophia gazed at the sprawling fields stretching into the blackness. “For years, Jessica has been quiet and subdued. She’s often confused, unstable on her feet, but she’s never ventured to the woods. Everything changed two months ago.” She turned to look at him, sadness filling her eyes. “That’s when the whimpering started and the bursts of hysteria. That’s when she started sleepwalking, started the silly talk about witches and curses.”

“And you cannot think what prompted the change?”

“No. Life at Blackborne is rather uneventful. Mrs Friswell keeps to a strict routine as she believes habitual practices help with a disordered mind.”

“She has the look of a tyrant if you ask me.” Those sharp green eyes held a hidden wickedness.

Sophia shook her head, and in a disapproving accent said, “Mrs Friswell may look like a stern governess, but she has a kind heart. For Jessica’s birthday, she made—” She halted, her eyes widening in recognition.

“What is it?”

Sophia sat open-mouthed, even when the carriage rattled to a stop at the Chelsea Park turnpike, and Sloane’s coachman paid the toll.

“What is it?” Finlay repeated, his pulse racing in anticipation. “What have you remembered?”

“Oh, Lord!” Sophia flopped back in the seat as the carriage lurched forward. “How remiss of me not to have suspected a connection. Jessica celebrated her twenty-fifth birthday three months ago. That’s when it all started. It has been a nightmare ever since.”

One might assume the milestone added to Jessica’s emotional trauma. She should be married with children, not locked in a manor house in the heart of a creepy wood. Perhaps it triggered buried resentments. It must have some significance. Jessica was past the age of majority, but perhaps there were specific stipulations in Clarence Draper’s will.

“You mentioned your father’s cousin inherited the house, but that Clarence made financial provisions for you and Jessica. Might you elaborate?”

“Yes. Father amended his will when Jessica became sick. When I married, he set a substantial sum aside for my settlement.”

Finlay snorted. “A substantial sum? If it’s so substantial, why must you bow and scrape to Fitzroy Adair for your allowance?”

“William agreed to a monthly allowance large enough to cover the upkeep of Blackborne. When he died, my settlement gave me the freedom to manage the house and still keep it a secret from Fitzroy. The jointure from William’s estate is somewhat measly, hence the reason Fitzroy uses an additional allowance as bait. Had I given William a son, things would have been different.”

While he understood her reasons for secrecy, understood why William Adair wanted his son to control his stepmother’s purse strings, it still left one puzzling question.

“Are you saying your father made no provision for Jessica in his will?”

She tutted. “Of course he did. He always hoped she would recover, which is why she could not draw her portion until she turned twenty-five. There’s one stipulation. Jessica must be declared of sound mind before she can inherit a penny.”

It was Finlay’s turn to flop back in the seat.

He was physically sated, mentally exhausted. But this new revelation was a promising move towards finding a motive for Dr Goodwin’s mysterious meeting and his manipulation of Jessica’s mind.

“For obvious reasons, I’ve avoided making an appointment with the solicitor,” she added. “Jessica cannot claim her portion while still so unbalanced. And I needed my allowance from Fitzroy.”

Guilt—Finlay’s faithful friend—surfaced. Had he not feigned indifference, had he not been so self-absorbed, Sophia might have turned to him for help.

“If you need anything, need money, you only need ask,” he said, knowing it was too little too late.

She forced a thin smile, though her expression remained bleak.

“Anything at all,” he stressed.

“Do you want to know why I attend lavish balls and spend my evenings dancing and making merry?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “Because for a few hours I like to pretend life is easy, and I have nothing to worry about