and Henry had inherited him along with the dukedom. Having known the man since childhood, he had trusted him implicitly. Just as his father had done. Parkinson had simply… always been there. When Henry had sat at his father’s elbow as a very young man, learning the business of the dukedom, Parkinson had always been with them, quietly noting and carrying out each and every instruction of his father without question. It didn’t matter what it was: from the everyday carrying out of estate business, to the settling of gambling debts, to the arrangement of prostitutes for his father’s entertainments at his hunting box. Parkinson hadn’t blinked an eye at any of it.
“He’s an extremely reliable fellow,” his father had once said to Henry. “Utterly discreet and totally dedicated to protecting the family name—as well he might be, for the sums I pay him.”
And it was true, in a way. Parkinson had been discreet, and he had protected the family name at all costs. And yes, when he was asked to do any task, he carried it out with admirable efficiency. But it was only when he had died, quite unexpectedly following a sudden heart seizure, eleven years ago now, that Henry had discovered the full extent of the rewards the man had been taking in exchange for his loyalty.
It was Harry Trimble, the man Henry had engaged to replace Parkinson, who had first alerted him to the discrepancies in the ledgers. Trimble had suggested a detailed examination of all the account books and records be undertaken to get to the bottom of the matter, and Henry, worried about what incriminating information might be found in those old papers, had gone to Corbett for help. That was when Corbett had introduced Henry to Simon Reid, vouchsafing that Reid was a man who could be trusted.
Reid had set about the matter with typical efficiency, sending his associate, Alun Jones, to Wiltshire to painstakingly go through the estate records. Jones had examined every entry in every ledger, and every single page in the voluminous boxes of papers pertaining to the estate. Quiet and unassuming, Jones had spent three long months at Avesbury House working his way through decades of documents. At the end of it, he had presented Henry with a file of evidence that showed the fraud Parkinson had committed, together with a box of papers relating to Henry’s personal affairs that Henry had promptly locked away. The file had shown that Parkinson had been stealing from the ducal estate for years, long before Henry had inherited the title.
After that, Reid had spent a couple of years trying to track down the money Parkinson had embezzled, but most of it had been spent meeting the man’s gambling debts. Eventually, Henry had given up on any further attempts at recovering the losses, and Reid had closed the case.
So far as Henry had been aware, Parkinson’s fraud had been restricted to stealing money. But now he had to wonder. Christopher was supposed to get the property at Paddington Green when their contract ended. Parkinson had known that—he’d told Henry it was taken care of, and Henry had not questioned the matter.
Over those difficult first few weeks and months after leaving London, Parkinson had come to Avesbury House several times, on each occasion with a sheaf of documents to be signed by Henry. Documents that, Henry recalled, he had, uncharacteristically, signed without reading.
Had Parkinson seen an opportunity, and taken a chance?
Was it possible that he had stolen Christopher’s rightful entitlement?
“What’s the address of the property?” Reid asked, and Henry gave it to him, watching as the man wrote it on his blotter.
“And what is it you want to know about it?” Reid continued. “The current owner, I assume. Anything else?”
“As much as possible,” Henry said. “Who owns it now, and anyone else who has owned it in the last eighteen years.”
Reid eyed him curiously, but he nodded. “Very well.”
“I need to know the position as soon as possible,” Henry said. “Can you get to the bottom of the matter today?”
Reid looked doubtful. “Unlikely, but I’ll see what I can do. If you wish, I can call by the house this evening on my home to let you know what progress I’ve made?”
“Please do,” Henry said. “I’m anxious to discover the truth as soon as possible.”
7
Kit
By Thursday, Betty was feeling quite well and Clara was able to return to work, so Kit decided to leave Clara to deal with the club for the afternoon while