What Happened at Midnight(35)

“You think you can buy me off with mere money when I’ve scarcely been able to concentrate? When I couldn’t even eat, wondering what would become of my son?”

Now John knew that Elizabeth was acting. The day his sister stopped eating would be an alarming day indeed.

“Seven hundred pounds,” Frost said uneasily, glancing at his partner, who nodded.

“I won’t have my father’s—my husband’s—memory so despoiled,” she said. “Their spirits cry out for vengeance, not compensation!”

“A thousand pounds from each of us,” Lawson said, looking green. “And that little strip of land near your husband’s house—the one he always wanted to buy? I’ll give you that, too.” He licked his lips. “And that will leave Frost and I far the worse off.”

“Come now,” John said to Elizabeth, “don’t you think a thousand pounds each is enough to pay for their sins? After all, it was only a little embezzlement.”

“My nerves,” Elizabeth moaned, which nearly set him off laughing. His sister had nerves of steel. “I can’t be sure. What…oh, John, what do you think that this means? I don’t think I can sort it out myself. Perhaps we ought to call the constable and have him figure out the best way to proceed.”

“Twelve hundred each,” Lawson said immediately, while Frost nodded vigorously beside him.

Eliza sniffed.

“We’re dreadfully sorry,” Frost put in. “More sorry than you can know.” He licked his lips, looking calculating rather than sorry. “And if you’re looking for revenge, do think about what this will mean to the both of us. After our deductions, we’ll take just two thousand pounds apiece—when we put in that much five years ago. We’ll barely be getting out with our capital intact.”

Mary stirred on the other side of the table. “Really, Frost. How do you figure that? As I do the math, the partnership owns seventy-five hundred in assets, and there have been three thousand, five hundred in unauthorized deductions.”

Mr. Frost was only just beginning to frown. But John already knew where Mary was headed.

“Plus the proceeds of last year’s sale,” John continued on. “Don’t forget those.”

“Divided four ways,” Mary said, “and you’ll be taking a lot less than two thousand pounds a piece.”

“Four ways!” Lawson said. “You can’t mean to suggest…”

“It is not a suggestion,” Mary said. “You’re forgetting—how did you put it? Yes. You’re forgetting about Chartley’s bitch of a daughter. You thought you’d be safe from accusations of theft if you lodged the account in the name of the partnership. How do you suppose I got the bank to provide me with such detailed information? My father was never removed as partner, and I inherited his share on his death. The bank gave my solicitor the accounting because I am legally part owner.” She set her hands flat on the table. “Legally speaking,” she said, “you stole from me, too.”

“Yes,” Mr. Lawson said, his voice beginning to shake. “Divided four ways. Of course. And you’ll accept, ah, an equal share.” He looked almost green.

Perhaps this was what the ladies had been waiting for—for these two criminals to offer them everything. They exchanged glances.

“Shall we accept?” Eliza said. “They certainly could not offer us any more.”

“That’s true,” Mary said. “And yet something in me revolts at the prospect. It doesn’t seem right, if we let them go and they then proceed to do some other unsuspecting folks out of their fair share by unscrupulous means.”

Mr. Lawson and Mr. Frost stood at once, looking about the room in terror.

Mary brushed off her hands. “After all, the court will divide the proceeds. I’m sure it will do a fair job of it—and I don’t ask for more than fairness.”

“John,” Eliza said, “do poke your head outside the door and see if the constables have arrived yet.”

John stood and opened the door. “Ah,” he said. “What a coincidence. Here they are.”

THE NEXT HALF HOUR SEEMED to pass in a whirl. John made angry, accusatory noises when the constables entered the room, and Lawson and Frost were brought in on charges of theft and fraud. Eliza watched them go with a nod of sharp self-satisfaction. When they’d been conveyed to prison for the evening, Eliza offered her arm to Mary.

John watched in horror. “Wait,” he said. “Where are you two going?”

Eliza turned and cast him a glance over her shoulder. “I’m taking her home with me,” she said, as if he should have guessed this. “If you should like to come to supper, you’re invited.”

“But—”

“Come, Mary,” Eliza said.

But Mary didn’t move. She was looking at him—simply looking, but her eyes glistened.

“You can’t go with him,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes. “Everyone will see you, and they will all talk. There will be enough talk to get over as it is.”

“Eliza,” John said, “that’s enough. I’ll take her to wherever it is that she’s staying.”

“With me.”

“Good. Then it’s scarcely a mile. We’ll walk. In public. Nothing untoward about that.”