Anne Perry - A Christmas Visitor

And he was about to add an even greater burden for all of them, but he could not remain silent. He could feel Naomi’s eyes on him also—waiting.

He cleared his throat. “I went to Kendal today,” he began. He could feel his stomach tightening and in spite of the fire and the good food, he was cold.

They were waiting, knowing he would go on and tell them the reason.

“I went to see Percival, the forgery expert …”

“We all know it was forged,” Ephraim interrupted him. “It’s already been proved in court! We need to show that Judah was murdered, and that Gower did it, out of hatred and revenge.”

“For heaven’s sake, let him finish!” Benjamin said tartly. “Why did you go, Henry? What can Percival do to help?”

“I think it would be best if I gave you the whole story I found out,” Henry answered. “Rather than follow my path of discovering that Mr. Percival dislikes Gower intensely, so much so that he seems to have allowed his animosity to govern some of his decisions. He admitted he was quick to come to conclusions, and to pass them on to Judah.”

“Are you saying that he was wrong?” Ephraim demanded. “That is the only fact that matters.”

Henry ignored his manner because he understood the emotions that drove it. “The date made the property legally Ashton Gower’s, but the forgery was so bad it could never have passed for genuine.”

“We know that,” Benjamin agreed. “Ashton Gower is both a villain and a fool.”

“No,” Henry contradicted him. “He may have killed Judah, which would make him a villain, but he is not a fool. And if you think about it honestly, you know that.” He leaned forward across the table. “Percival gave me the name of the original solicitor, who was not called to testify. He did not believe the deeds were forged, but he is not an expert. He was willing to be overruled.”

“Your point, Henry?” Benjamin asked. “All this means nothing.”

“Yes it does, Benjamin,” Henry replied. “Overton read the deeds very carefully. He remembered the date in particular.”

Naomi drew in her breath sharply.

“It was the same date as on the forged deeds,” Henry told them.

“That’s ridiculous!” Ephraim exploded. “Why in God’s name forge something and make it exactly the same?”

“Because it was obviously a forgery,” Henry answered. “And the original had been destroyed. Naturally, like you, everyone assumed that the original had been different.”

They looked stunned. He turned to each of them, one by one. It was Benjamin who realized the meaning first.

“You mean the original gave the dates that make it Ashton Gower’s?” he said incredulously.

“Yes.”

“Oh, God! It …” he stopped.

Antonia was ashen. “Judah didn’t know!” she said hoarsely. “He would never lie! Never!”

“Of course he didn’t,” Henry agreed instantly. “But he was, as you say, an honest man, not just outwardly, but of heart and mind deep through. He went back over all he had done to prove to Ashton Gower that he was wrong. And he found what I did. He saw Overton as well, and knew that the land was Gower’s. That was the day he died.”

“You mean the day he was murdered!” Ephraim almost choked on the words.

“Yes.”

“What a hideous irony!” Ephraim was white-faced, his hands clenched into fists on the table. “Gower was right, and Judah could have told him, if Gower hadn’t murdered him first. He could have had his name cleared …”

“Are we sure it was Gower who killed him?” Henry asked.

Benjamin stared back.

Ephraim sat rigid.

It was Antonia who spoke. “We are supposing it was he because we also believed he forged the deeds. If he didn’t, then perhaps he didn’t kill Judah, either.”

“Revenge,” Ephraim said quickly. “If he was innocent, then he had a justified anger. Especially if he believed Judah forged the deeds so we could buy the estate.”

“That’s true,” Henry agreed. “But if Judah was going to tell him the truth, then whoever did forge them, and certainly someone did, then that person had a great deal to lose. The case would be opened up again and …” Now he had to say it, although it twisted like a knife inside him. “And the estate given back to Gower. And if it proved to be Colgrave who forged it, and since it was in fact he who benefited from the sale, the law would look very seriously at him.”

They all stared at him aghast. “We bought it legally, at a fair price,” Benjamin said quietly.

“I know that,” Henry answered. “But you bought it from Colgrave, and it was not his to sell.”

Ephraim looked around the table at each of them in turn. “That’s monstrous!” he burst out. “Are you saying that if all this is true, then legally the estate, our home, belongs to Ashton Gower after all?”

“Is it true?” Antonia whispered.

Benjamin looked at Henry, hope struggling with knowledge in his eyes.

“Yes,” Henry nodded.

Ephraim struggled to keep hope. “Unless Gower did kill Judah. If he did, then he can’t profit from his crime. Apart from morally, that’s the law. He’ll be hanged.”

“We didn’t consider Peter Colgrave regarding Judah’s death,” Benjamin pointed out. “We were so morally sure that it was Gower. But this makes it different. It also explains why Judah would meet him at the lower crossing. It’s only a few hundred yards from Colgrave’s house. He might even have been there, and Colgrave followed him out.” He turned to Henry. “Do you know what Judah was going to do about this?”

“Not from Overton,” Henry replied. “But I knew Judah, just as you did. He was a man of honor. There is only one thing he could have done.”

Again the silence was painful.

It was Naomi who spoke at last. “Give it back to Gower?”

“Isn’t that what he would do?” Henry asked. “You knew him. Would he have kept that secret, and stayed living here, with Gower branded a forger, and left penniless?”

It was Antonia who answered. “No. No, he would never have done that. He couldn’t.”

“And he would not have let Colgrave go either,” Benjamin added. “And Colgrave would have known that.”

Ephraim looked from one to the other of them. “Would he really have gone to Colgrave’s house alone, at that hour of night, to face him with it?”

“No,” Benjamin said with certainty.

“If he was going to give the estate back to Gower, with everything that means,” Henry said slowly, “his first concern, after doing the right thing, would be to have made some provision for Antonia and Joshua.”

“You can’t buy a house at that time of night!” Benjamin said, with something close to derision in his face.

Henry bit his lip. “Benjamin, with the estate gone, there would be no money with which to buy a house,” he pointed out. “And since it was a miscarriage of justice of very great proportions, there may have been an inquiry. Gower may not have let it rest in peace. He might have sued …”

Ephraim swore and buried his head in his hands.

“Then who?” Naomi asked. “Who could help?”

Henry turned to Antonia. “Whom did he trust? Who would be wise, discreet, and unfailingly kind?”

Her eyes were full of tears. “Apart from you? I don’t know.”

Henry found himself blushing at her trust, even after what he had been obliged to tell her. If she had hated him for it, at least for a while, he would not have blamed her. He wished he could offer something stronger or of more use than friendship.

“A friend?” Ephraim asked. “He would know we were all coming, but we don’t live here. Who else?”

Benjamin rubbed his hand across his brow. “Actually, Ephraim, if we lose the estate, we may very well all live here. There’ll be no income to support us anywhere else. In fact not even here, come to that. It’ll change all our lives.”