David Liss - The Twelfth Enchantment - A Novel

“What can you mean?” The words caught in her throat.

“Come around the far side of the coach. I will have to hand this to you quickly, when the woman’s view is blocked. You must then come back around where she can see you, so she does not become suspicious.”

Lucy felt her heart racing. She was now involved in an intrigue, one that clearly had nothing to do with a peer choosing to make love to her. She followed Lord Byron to the far side of his coach, and he placed into her hand a thick collection of pages, folded three times. Instinctively, she stuffed them into the bodice of her gown, blushing all the while.

Lord Byron led her back to the other side of the coach. “Please, my lord. What have you given me?”

“Francis Derrick was your father?” he said in a quiet voice.

She felt herself grow faint and gripped his arm, though let go again at once as though shocked. She felt embarrassed at having grabbed him, and yet delighted, and wondered how she might find an excuse to grab his arm again. “Yes.” It was hardly a whisper.

“You will forgive me, but when he died, what did he leave you?”

“Very little,” managed Lucy. “He died with many debts, and what he had, he gave to my sister and her family.”

Lord Byron nodded. “This morning, I found upon me the last will and testament of a Mr. Francis Derrick, and with that, some records of his finances. I did not read it overly closely, as it did not concern me, but the substance of these documents is that, beyond a few items left to this person or that, his sole beneficiaries for his personal effects and a sum of money he estimates as near ten thousand pounds, are his unmarried daughters, Lucy and Martha Derrick. I am sorry to tell you that it appears you have been the victim of a scheme to defraud you of your inheritance.”

5

W ITH 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.