The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,90
what had transpired since he arrived in Darbury? Or should he go back further and admit that these occurrences were punishment for past actions?
He pulled the ransom letter from his pocket and handed it to Sulter, who unfolded the wrinkled paper and held it up to the window’s light. Graham stood silent, waiting as the man read.
Sulter finished examining the note and lowered it to his lap. “All right now. Start from the beginning.”
Graham drew a long breath and began. The events of the past three weeks spilled from him with unguarded honesty. At times the tightening in his chest and the shortness of breath threatened to prevent his words, but he pressed on, omitting no detail. Sulter was safe and unbiased, just as he had always been.
When Graham finished, Sulter stood, leaned his elbow against the mantel, and rubbed his chin. “So, there are three possibilities.”
Graham raised his eyebrow, curious if Sulter’s assessment matched his own.
“The Edward Littleton fellow, Miss Barrett’s uncle, and—”
“My brother.” Graham winced as the words passed his lips. But his brother had been desperate and drunk—an ominous combination. “So now you know the situation. What’s your assessment?”
Sulter refolded the note and passed it back to him. “Liverpool’s a big city, a lot of people coming and going. But George’s Dock—that’s our key.”
The glimmer in Sulter’s eyes sparked a flicker of hope in Graham. “I remember that place. Used to be big in the slave trade, if I recall correctly.”
“Aye, you do. Now it receives ships coming from the West Indies.”
The West Indies. It wasn’t until Graham repeated Stephen’s words in his head that a thought formed. Weren’t Edward Littleton and George Barrett partners in a shipping business? Memories of the very first dinner at Winterwood Manor rushed his mind. Yes, Barrett had announced that Littleton was joining the family business.
Graham leaned in close to Sulter. “Have you heard of the Barrett Trading Company?”
Amelia clutched her cloak around her and surveyed the tiny room she was to share with Jane. Two slivers of afternoon light slid through the narrow windows flanking the fireplace.
Mary Sulter scurried around the bed, smoothing the bright blue quilt and fluffing the pillows. She looked up from her task when one of the Sulter sons entered the room with Jane and Amelia’s trunks. “Just put those over there, and then take your leave. Miss Barrett and Mrs. Hammond need to rest after their journey.”
Amelia opened her mouth to reassure her that she had no intention of resting until Lucy was secure in her arms once again. But before she could respond, Jane spoke. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Sulter.”
Amelia caught Jane’s pointed expression and swallowed her impatience. “Yes. Thank you.”
The sound of men’s voices floated from outside the window. The voices were near . . . and familiar. Amelia hurried to the window and looked down. On the cobbled street below, Graham, Captain Sulter, and one of the Sulter sons were walking toward the small stable behind the church.
“Where are they going?”
Mary Sulter looked up from the bedding. “I imagine they are going to look for the child.”
Amelia propelled herself away from the window. She had not traveled all the way to Liverpool to sit and wait. “But I need to go, I need to—”
Jane reached for Amelia’s arm, stopping her midstep.
Mary hurried over. “Do not fret, my dear. My husband knows everything about everyone in Liverpool. You need to rest. The little one will need you to be strong when she returns. Am I right?”
Amelia pressed her lips together with such intensity they trembled. With both Jane and Mary next to her, she felt more like a young girl than a woman on the verge of marriage.
Mary’s warm brown eyes met hers. “Now, child, you and Mrs. Hammond here have had a trying day. I think it best, and I am sure Mrs. Hammond will agree, that the two of you rest after your journey. Mark my words, after you have had a cup of tea and a little time to freshen up, you will feel much better. Ah, and here is our Becky with some tea.”
The oldest Sulter girl maneuvered her way into the room with a tray of tea and biscuits and set it on the table next to the bed.
Jane spoke when Amelia could not. “Thank you, Mrs. Sulter. We will be down in a bit.”
Jane had barely latched the door behind their hostesses before Amelia marched back to the window. “I can’t believe he would leave