“I am intrigued, Hammond. I trust this will be good.”
“That is for you to say,” Hammond said. “I merely convey information which has been imparted to me.”
“And which may or may not be interesting. Very well, then. Convey your information.”
Lance sat on the bench and prepared to be bored.
“A few weeks ago, my father’s cottage was… hmm, not broken into, precisely, since the kitchen door was unlocked, but entered at night by an unknown person.”
That was unexpected! “And this concerns me how precisely?”
“That is a question I cannot answer,” Hammond said. “This person lit a candle and wandered about for a while, lingering long enough to drip candle wax when he encountered one of the family trees my father uses in his work on the duke’s memoirs. The particular tree is of the Wyatts of Kent.”
“Again I must ask how this is relevant to me.”
“And again my answer is that I do not know. I am merely the vehicle for conveying this information. Its meaning is for you to determine — or not, possibly — but my reasons for offering it to you will become clear, I hope. If I may continue?”
Lance gestured to him to do so. Despite himself, he was intrigued and curious to know where the story was leading — if anywhere, of course. With Hammond, one never knew.
“My father, thinking it an odd occurrence, mentioned the matter in his next letter to the man who compiled the chart, and he, having some acquaintance with the Wyatts, wrote to tell them of it. That brought one of them, an Augustus Wyatt, galloping up to Brinshire. It seems that the Wyatts carelessly misplaced one of the sons of the family ten years ago, and jumped to the conclusion that he was here, and busily occupied in breaking into cottages to examine his family tree.”
“One can see how they might make that assumption,” Lance said cautiously. “Shaky, though. Decidedly shaky.”
“Indeed. He talked to my father, and told him about the missing man — Julius Wyatt, aged thirty-two, described by his brother as having brown hair and eyes and a decided chin. And a gentleman, of course. The Wyatts are an important family, not merely in Kent but in government circles, so Julius is an educated man. Now we come to the part that concerns you. Mr Wyatt said that Julius is a fencer of some renown.”
“Ah.”
“My father thought, and I agree with him, that your name is likely to rise to people’s minds as the only gentleman with fencing skills in these parts. Obviously you have not been missing for ten years, but even if you are not Wyatt, you might know of a fellow fencer who would fit the description. In any event, we thought you should be informed.”
“That is most considerate, but I do not know anyone by the name of Wyatt.”
“Then if Mr Wyatt approaches you, he will be disappointed,” Hammond said, with an easy smile. “After talking to my father, Wyatt seems to have concentrated his enquiries in Brinchester, but he will undoubtedly move on to the surrounding villages, and sooner or later he will encounter someone who thinks of you.”
“Your father did not mention me to Wyatt?” Lance said cautiously.
“He did not. Mr Wyatt seemed like a pleasant man, and spoke of wishing to reunite the family. He mentioned that Julius would be welcome to return to the family fold at any time. Still, my father held back. He feels, and I agree with him, that a man who has been lost for ten years might be unhappy to be found again, and should have that choice. Forewarned is forearmed, is it not? Unnecessary, as it happens, since you do not know this Wyatt fellow, but it was meant for the best. And now that I haveconveyed my information, my duty is done. Good day to you, Chamberlain.”
19: To London
Lance retreated to his room. His first instinct was to send for Denny and pour out all that he had heard, for this, surely, was the secret behind Denny’s long exile from England and his place in society. A Wyatt! He knew of them, of course. He had even painted one of the daughters who had married a man of wealth in the north, but he had never met the male members of the family.
But Hammond’s caution infected him, too.‘A man who has been lost for ten years might be unhappy to be found again,’he had said, and that was true enough. Besides, there could be any number of men of Denny’s age who had become estranged from their families. So he wrote some letters to his family, went out for a walk, whereupon the Merrington ladies mysteriously appeared. He flirted a little with Charlotte, and sent for Denny only when it was time to dress for dinner. He waited until he was immersed in the bath tub before broaching the subject.
“Had a chat with Hammond today.”
“Oh yes? What did he have to say?” Denny said, a hint of crossness in his voice. “Nothing to the point, I imagine.”
“True enough. Some tale about a man looking for his missing brother. The brother is a fencer, apparently, so naturally Hammond thought I would know the fellow. As if I know every fencer in England! More hot water, if you will.”
Denny emptied a ewer over his head. “You must know most of them. Anyone who passes through Angelo’s, anyway.”
“Well, I never heard of this Wyatt at Angelo’s, or anywhere else.”
Lance lay back in the water, eyes closed, studiously casual, but well aware that Denny had stopped moving, his breathing somewhat rapid.
“How is it this brother is missing?”
“The man looking for him would not say. He is calling himself Augustus Wyatt, and puts up at the Royal Oak, so he is not short of the readies. That is one of the better hotels in Brinchester, is it not?”
