Authors: Heaven
Bobbi Smith (8 page)
Dell reached the house promptly at seven. He summoned Henry and Martin into the study, along with both Philip and Robert. He knew the next few minutes were going to be traumatic, but he was prepared. He thought the two sons despicable, and he realized now that Lawrence had been right about changing his will.
“If everyone is ready, I’ll begin,” Thomas announced as he sat down at Lawrence’s desk to read the document. He let his critical regard sweep over the four men who were seated before him.
Though Philip and Robert were taking great care to appear somber and serious, Thomas could see the mocking gleam of victory in their eyes. He knew they were immensely satisfied with themselves, and he found he was actually looking forward to disclosing the terms of the will.
“I, Lawrence Anthony, being of sound mind and body as of this day, 18 March, the year of our Lord 1857, do hereby leave the sum of 1000 pounds to each of my faithful servants, Henry and Martin. They have served me well through the years, and I thank them. The balance of my estate . . .” Dell paused for effect before continuing, for he wanted both Philip and Robert to feel the full brunt of their father’s disgust with them. “I leave to the Church . . .”
“What!!!” Philip and Robert both went pale.
The lawyer continued to read, “Through the years, the good works of my closest friend, Edward Bradford, have shown me the importance of love, kindness, and faith. It is with great pleasure that I leave absolutely nothing to the two men who, only now in my death, take pleasure in claiming me as their father. Their behavior has proven more painful than I can ever say, and I have decided that from this day, 18 March 1857 forth, I have no blood-related family.”
“You can’t be serious,” Philip stated with dead calm.
“This has to be some kind of joke Father’s playing on us,” Robert insisted.
“This is no joke. I am completely serious. This will was signed by Lawrence Anthony and dated 18 March 1857. There is also a requirement here that you vacate the family home within five days of your father’s death. He did provide a complete inventory of the estate, so there is a record of all of his possessions.” He finished reading and looked up.
“It can’t be valid!”
“Oh, but I assure you, it is,” Thomas told him. “Your father had predicted that you would react just this way, so he took extra care to make sure this document was ironclad.”
“We’ll challenge it!”
“You’ll be wasting your time.” Thomas removed his glasses as he leaned back in his chair.
The two brothers’ faces were mottled red with rage as they stood up.
“Get out of our house!” they snarled.
The lawyer stared at them, feeling as pleased as he could under the sad circumstances. “You may remain here three more days, after which time I shall return and see that all your father’s property is turned over to the Church.”
Four
It was near midnight, and Philip and Robert were in a savage mood. After the lawyer had gone, they’d ordered the servants to their quarters and then made a thorough search of the house. Their efforts to find the books had turned up nothing, though, and they stood in the middle of their father’s bedroom, the room itself in a shambles from their search, feeling frustrated and furious.
“What do we do now?” Robert demanded.
“We’re going to talk to Henry,” Philip snarled. “You know how close he and Father were. If anyone knows what happened to those books, he does.”
They shared in a knowing look and quickly made their way to Henry’s room. They were glad now that the valet’s room was apart from the other servants’ for they wanted privacy while they talked to him. They didn’t bother to knock, but barged right in.
“Hello, Henry,” Philip greeted the startled servant.
Henry had been unable to sleep and had been sitting on his bed contemplating what to do next when they burst into his room. He jumped up nervously and though he stood calmly before them, he was, in truth, more than a little afraid.
“We need to talk to you. We have a problem that we think you might be able to help us with,” Robert broached the subject carefully.
“Oh?”
“We know how close you and Father were.”
“I respected and admired your father,” he said cautiously, not trusting them. He was extremely thankful that he’d followed the professor’s advice and mailed the books that morning.
“Father had several books in his library that were very important to us, and they seem to be missing. We were wondering if he told you where he put them?”
“All of his books were kept in the study,” Henry replied, avoiding their question.
“Now, Henry, we’re not talking about his regular library. These books were special. I’m sure Father would have kept them some place safe. He wouldn’t have left them just sitting out on the shelf.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it doesn’t really matter.”
“Why is that?” Philip wondered at his answer.
“According to Mr. Dell, an inventory of all household possessions has been taken and all of your father’s things are to be given to charity.”
His words were the spark that ignited the frayed temper of the already-maddened Philip. Reminded once again of how his plan had failed, his fury exploded into a mindless rage. The will be damned! He was Lawrence Anthony’s oldest son! He intended to gain his rightful inheritance—one way or another! He snatched up the fireplace poker and struck the valet savagely in the head.
Henry hadn’t seen the blow coming, and it caught him totally unawares, knocking him to his knees, stunned.
Beyond reason, Philip continued to strike the servant with bone-breaking fury.
“Stop . . .” Henry cried frantically trying to escape.
But Philip was relentless and remorseless. He’d always hated Henry and the way he’d always stood with his father, looking so confident and superior. The more he thought about his father, the angrier he became.
When at last, Henry slipped into unconsciousness, his last words were, “The professor warned me . . .”
Philip didn’t stop. He swung again and again, pretending all the while that he was hitting his father. His blows rained down harder and faster, until a steely hand finally gripped his arm in mid-swing.
“Philip! Enough!”
Robert’s icy voice cut through the red haze of his emotions, and Philip stared down at the servant’s bloodied body.
Robert bent to check Henry. When he looked up at his brother, his expression was cold and filled with loathing. “You fool! You’ve killed him. Now we’re never going to find out what happened to the books!”
A shudder ran through Philip as he dropped the poker. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? He was the only one who could have led us to them.”
“Didn’t you hear what he said? He said ‘The professor warned me . . .’ When has he had time to talk to the professor? Either Henry was at the hotel that night to see Parker or he’s been to the jail since the professor was arrested.”
Robert’s eyes narrowed as he considered the possibilities. “I’m glad it’s late. We’ll be able to cover this up without too much trouble. If anyone asks, we’ll just tell them that once Henry got his money from the will, he left. Then first thing in the morning, we’ll make a visit to the professor.”
“Why wait for morning?” Philip refused to be put off. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. “The sooner we find out what’s happened to the books, the sooner we’ll get our money. Besides, I’ve already spoken to the guards. We won’t have any trouble getting in to see him.”
Several hours later in the early hours of the morning, the two brothers were face-to-face with the professor in a small windowless room. The guards had been glad to see Philip again for they’d met with him before and knew he was more than generous when it came to enlisting their help.
Enoch had been momentarily thrilled when the guards had come for him. Though the letter he’d written to Alex at home couldn’t possibly have reached her yet, perhaps the letters he’d written to his friends at the university and the British Museum had brought the help he’d so desperately sought. He’d believed, as the guards led him out of his cell, that he was going to be released. He’d thought the whole ugly misunderstanding had been cleared up and he would be exonerated of all the charges. Now, standing before the two Anthony brothers, his spirits plummeted. Shock and horror filled him as he realized that they had come to question him about their father, not to free him.
“Where are the books?” Philip demanded without preamble as he cornered the exhausted professor in the small room.
“I’ve never seen any books,” Enoch answered quickly, terror filling his heart as he looked from Philip to Robert. Their expressions were so cold, their manner so deadly, that he grew even more certain that they were the ones responsible for Lawrence’s death and his own imprisonment.
“Don’t lie to us, professor. We know better. We know you stole them from our father just before you killed him. Now, where are they? What did you do with them?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t steal anything from your father! He was my friend. I would never have harmed him in any way!”
“Denials . . . denials . . . Look, professor, we know Henry’s been to see you,” Robert announced with a cool, knowing air.
Enoch paled at the news. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Come, come, now, professor,” Robert followed up in a scolding tone. “Playing ignorant doesn’t become you.”
“If you think Henry’s going to help you in some way, think again. Henry won’t be helping you or anyone else anymore.”
A look of panic flickered across Enoch’s expression. “What are you talking about? What’s happened to Henry?”
“Why, nothing that I know of,” Philip replied, looking completely innocent. “What about you, Robert? Do you know of anything happening to Henry?”
“No. All I know is that he got what was coming to him in the will, and he left. So if you were looking to him for help, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“I have other friends who’ll help me! I didn’t have anything to do with your father’s death and I intend to prove it.”
“Oh,” Philip said smoothly as he drew a packet of letters from his pocket. “You mean like Dr. Knowlen at the university? Or Professor Greene at the museum? Or maybe even your daughter?”
Enoch lunged at him, trying to snatch back his letters, but Philip eluded him easily.
“All we want from you is a little cooperation, Professor. That’s all. You tell us where the books are, and we’ll see what we can do about getting you out of here.”
Enoch felt trapped and frightened. His letters had been intercepted and stolen, and without Henry’s help, he was as good as convicted and hung. “I’ve never laid eyes on them,” he denied again.
“You can keep denying it all you want, but we know you know about them, and we’re going to find them. Why don’t you just tell us now, and save all of us a lot of trouble.”
“I know what kind of men you are, and I wouldn’t help you if it meant saving my life!”
“It might very well come to that,” Robert said coldly.
“Well, Robert, since the good professor doesn’t want to talk to us about the books, maybe his lovely daughter Alexandra will.”
“Alex doesn’t know anything about this!” Enoch panicked at the thought of Alex dealing with these two. “She’s not even along with me on this trip.”
“I guess we’ll just have to travel to Boston and see what she knows, won’t we? I wonder what she’ll think when we tell her that you’re a murderer?”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Wouldn’t we? That is, unless you’d like to tell us now what happened to those books?”
“I have nothing to tell you!” Enoch came back at them, infuriated by their cold-blooded daring. “You’re murderers! First you killed your father and now you’re trying to blame it on me!”
“You’re going to have difficulty proving that,” Philip countered smoothly.
“You won’t get away with it!”
“Oh, really? It appears we already have. Let’s face it, everyone saw you arguing with Father in the restaurant and then they saw you chase him outside.”
“Just because we argued, doesn’t mean I murdered him!”
“You’re certainly a much more likely suspect than we are,” he pointed out. “Especially since we had nothing to gain by his death. No, I think the court is going to believe you poisoned Father, and I think you’ll pay the price for it—unless you choose to help us now, and then we could bring our considerable influence to bear on your behalf.”
Enoch knew they were right. He had no power, no influence. He was without friends. He’d been unjustly accused and imprisoned, and no one cared. He was helpless before them. The only thing sustaining him was his sense of what was right, and he held on to the belief that some day the truth would be revealed. “I may not be able to prove my innocence, but the day is going to come when the two of you will be known for what you are, and then you’ll pay for what you’ve done. There is a justice greater than man’s.”
Philip laughed. “Ah, but you’ll be encountering man’s justice far sooner. Good night, Professor.”
Philip and Robert knocked on the door to signal the guard. He let them out, then took the professor back to his cell. Neither Philip nor Robert spoke again until they were in their carriage heading back to the house.
“What do you think?” Robert asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s obvious that he doesn’t have the books with him, but he did seem worried about us visiting his daughter.”
“Perhaps we should plan a trip to Boston.”
“Perhaps.” Philip’s mind was racing as he tried to put himself in his father’s place. “If Father didn’t give the books to the professor, then who did he give them to?”
“There was only one other man Father would have trusted with the treasure, and that’s Edward Bradford.”
“Of course,” Philip replied. Since their father had left the bulk of his estate to the Church, it only followed that he would have given the books to the priest. “We’ll go see him first thing in the morning.”
Dressed in black, Winn stood solemnly in the parlor. He’d managed to get some rest, but it had been fitful and haunted, and as he greeted the visitors who’d come to pay their respects, he was still exhausted. The conversation was muted around him as his uncle’s friends spoke quietly of their sorrow at losing him. Winn missed Uncle Edward already, and his heart felt heavy with loss.
The funeral mass was set for the next morning, and Winn both dreaded and looked forward to it. While the funeral would mean an end to the agonizing ordeal, it would also be the final parting for them. As he thought about saying his last good-bye to his uncle, Winn realized that there was no painless way to do it. The death of a loved one always meant pain. No matter how you tried, there could be no avoiding it.
“Good evening,” he said as two men who looked vaguely familiar entered the parlor and moved directly toward him.
“Good evening, Lord Bradford,” Robert replied. “I’m Robert Anthony, and this is my brother, Philip. We were very sorry to learn of your uncle’s death.”
“Thank you.” He remembered them now that they’d introduced themselves. His uncle had been a close friend of their father, but he knew these two were not well thought of around town. Their decadent ways were well known, and made his own escapades seem tame by comparison. “Is your father here?”
“You hadn’t heard? We buried him yesterday.”
Real surprise showed on Winn’s face. “No, I hadn’t heard. You have my deepest sympathy.”
“Thank you.”
“Lord Bradford, we were wondering if we might speak to you alone for a moment?”
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