A barrister who never asked if she was guilty. The solicitor could have used his own brass, Rex thought, to hire a more competent, caring lawyer, but he did not say it. "What did the blackguard do with all that money?"
"He said he was making investments, but not through my firm. It was not my place to ask more questions."
Not his place, when a woman and child were being stripped of their fortune? Rex did not hold the solicitor in high regard. Sir Frederick did not either, it appeared, since he did not confide his plans. "Perhaps his bank will know."
The solicitor looked doubtful. "Very closemouthed he was. I suspected-"
"Blackmail?" Daniel suggested, his favorite theory, after the butler and the burglar.
"Of course not. Sir Frederick was a gentleman."
Rex did not comment on how many gentlemen of title and means were mean as snakes. "What did you think he was doing with the money, then?"
The solicitor cleared his throat, then coughed. "I, ah, considered that he had another family to support. One not sanctioned by the church."
Daniel liked that theory. "And then, when he would not wed his lover, she shot him in anger. Or maybe he was growing tired of her and her demands and she refused to be dismissed."
Oh, lord. Rex changed the subject. "Did you know Miss Carville?"
"I knew her mother, and her father before. Good solid gentleman, he was, despite not making proper provisions. Of course he did not count on dying so young, but no one ever does, do they? He'd be appalled now."
"Everyone is."
The solicitor excused himself, then came back with a locked box. "I have been wondering what to do with this."
Duncan had it open before the solicitor could find the correct key in his drawer. Meanwhile the man of affairs explained that he'd kept the contents safe from Sir Frederick by writing stringent terms into Lady Carville's will, which she had dictated on her deathbed unbeknownst to Sir Frederick. She knew it was too late to save her fortune for her daughter, and her annuity had stopped on her remarriage, but she did have these, in her own name. Gifts from her own mother and her first husband, the box's contents were not entailed to any estate, so were hers to bequeath.
Duncan whistled.
Daniel's eyes opened wider. Even Rex was impressed. The box contained a dragon's horde of jewelry: necklaces, bracelets, brooches, and earbobs, set with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. To Rex's admittedly untrained eye, they appeared elegant and expensive, all in the finest taste and quality. Duncan swore they were genuine.
"They were not to go to Miss Amanda until her twenty-fifth birthday or her marriage," the solicitor explained, "and only I had the key to the box. I wondered if I should let Miss Carville have the occasional loan of them, for parties and such, now that she was attending more social engagements. I feared that Sir Frederick would get his hands on them, however, exchange them for paste copies or claim them to pay for the young lady's Season. He was not a nice man."
Which Rex did not need a wash of color to know for the truth.
The solicitor pushed the box toward Rex. "I am certain her mother would have wanted Miss Carville to have them now. Perhaps they will help."
"I do not see how, but she will be pleased to know that her mother left them safe for her."
"I, well, I thought she might sell them and find a place for herself elsewhere. The colonies maybe."
"She should run away?"
"I would never suggest fleeing the courts of law!"
That was a bright red lie. Financing the flight of a guilty woman was exactly what the man was proposing.
Rex stood. "I shall give them to Miss Carville, that she might be comforted. She can wear them as soon as she is cleared of all suspicion."
"Of course, of course. If you would not mind signing for them?"
"You do not trust me?"
The solicitor looked toward Duncan, who was holding the sapphires up to the light.
Rex signed.
Fine, now he had another worry. Not that Duncan would scarper off with the jewels, but that Amanda might.
"Are you going to give them to her?" Daniel wanted to know as they left the office.
"They are hers," was all Rex replied.
"There will be the devil to pay if she takes French leave."
But more if she hangs.
Sir Frederick's banker nervously licked his lips while he read the official documents. He did not like having his bank invaded by gentlemen of ill repute, or former bank robbers. Nor did he have answers to Rex's questions. He had no record of what Sir Frederick had done with his money, no transfer to another financial institution, only copies of recent withdrawals and fewer deposits, likely from the estate.
"You noticed no hint of irregularity?" Rex asked.
"Not in my bank!"
Which set Daniel to scratching his scalp and gave Rex a red-haze headache. "I wonder what would happen if we got writs to inspect the bank's books."
Mr. Breverton quickly recalled that he had once written a bank draft to a land brokerage office.
Rex was certain that Breverton could find the name of that realtor, and where they were located.
"Yes, of course. But it might take some time. That was over three years ago, I suspect. Gathering the correct books and ledgers out of storage will take a great deal of effort."
"Really?" Rex tapped the official papers he already had, indicating a few more search warrants would not be hard to obtain.
Breverton mopped at his forehead. "I'll have the information as soon as possible."
With the bank behind them, Rex and Daniel considered what they had learned. "Why would Sir Frederick be buying property when he did not care for his own estate?"
"To put his second family?"
"He could purchase a palace for the sums gone missing. I doubt he was setting up orphanages or hospitals, either."
Duncan Fingers made a rude sound. Everyone knew the not-so-dearly-departed baronet was a penny-pincher.
"So what the deuce was the man doing? I pray there are deeds and documents in his office."
There were not. All they found in the fake bottoms, hidden shelves, and locked compartments of Sir Frederick's desk were a small purse of coins, bills, and correspondence that Rex gathered up to read later. In the wall safe Amanda had mentioned-and which Duncan had opened in a flash-were a pair of dueling pistols, not at all similar to the weapon that had shot Sir Frederick; a copy of Miss Carville's mother's will; and a small journal. The little book had sums recorded, with dates and initials beside them, but no indication of income or outlay. Rex tucked the small volume inside his coat, along with the jewelry and the letters, to take with him. Perhaps Inspector Dimm or Harrison could connect the initialed entries to known swindlers or smugglers. Rex knew too few men in town.
"There has to be another secret hiding place somewhere," Daniel swore, tapping walls, moving paintings, lifting the carpet to look for loose floorboards. He avoided the section of the rug that still had bloodstains. Someone had placed a chair over the blotches.
Hareston, the butler, was not being helpful. He'd resigned, in fact, the moment he saw that Daniel Stamfield had returned, with his scarier, scarred relation and court writs. He ignored the introduction to the wizened Mr. Fingers altogether, as being beneath his dignity, but announced he would pack his belongings immediately.
Rex did not think Hareston's leaving, with his dignity or the family silver, was a good idea. He waved the legal papers in front of the fellow. "Do you know what these say?"
Hareston raised his red-veined nose. "I do not have my spectacles at hand."
Which Rex took to mean the butler could not make out the legal terms. "They give the right of search and removal of any evidence, and demand the cooperation of every citizen. That means your cooperation, or you could be held in contempt of the courts."