*
Giles sat inDalton’s library, mulling over what he ought to do next. He’d sent Miss Dell the book and had every confidence that she would show it round, including his note, at Mrs. Herschel’s next drawing room. As all those fellows congratulated themselves on being intellectuals, he hoped they could use their incisive minds to figure out the obvious. Sir John would be condemned and that would be that.
He would be off to the countryside to rehabilitate himself. At least, he would try. He had not the first notion of what would be involved, though he suspected it would be a self-reflection of sorts.
“There you are,” Dalton said, coming in with a letter in his hand. “This is addressed to you and appears to have made a world circle before arriving.”
Dalton handed over the worn and crumpled letter. Giles had nearly forgot he’d written to all of his unknown relatives on the continent. Now, it seemed one of them had finally written him back.
He opened it. It was from Count von Fersen, whoever he might be. Fortunately, it was written in English.
My dear relation of some kind,
I cannot claim to understand our exact connection, but as your dowager insists on writing us every year, I presume there is one. However distant.
In regard to your inquiry, I have not the slightest information about either a Sir John Kullehamnd or a Sir John Hill. As it is preposterous, I believe you have invented this for your own amusement, though I fail to see the wit.
I make the leap that this inane English jest is in the name—kulle meaning hill and hämnd meaning revenge.
Neither the countess nor I are smiling. Please do not write again.
Von Fersen
Giles dropped the paper. “That’s it!” he cried. “Von Fersen styles it a joke and so it is. Sir John Kullehamnd. He’s made up the name using two Swedish words to describe his aim. Hill and revenge. He revenges John Hill, who was knighted in Sweden. I knew I was right! Sir John is Veritas!”
Giles paused, an entirely new question presenting itself. Why was Sir John, whoever he really was, attempting to revenge John Hill? What connection was there? What purpose could it serve? What would be gained by it?
“Have you entirely lost your wits?” Dalton said, staring at him.
“No, not in the least. I am only going to solve Miss Dell’s mystery, as I knew I would.”
“Miss Dell’smystery?” Dalton’s lips tightened and Giles could see he was getting ready to launch into a tirade about avoiding the altar again.
“Do not even trouble yourself, Dalton,” he said. “I have quite given up Miss Dell. In fact, you’ll be happy to know that I’ve given up on flirtations altogether and so there is no danger I will somehow end up married.”
“And what, pray, has led to this remarkable transformation?” Dalton asked suspiciously.
“Miss Dell, of course. She is far too good for me. Burke pointed it out, you see, and I realized I must give her up.”
“One can only applaud Burke, then. But what is this mystery and why should you solve it for Miss Dell, the lady you claim to have given up?”
“To save her from Sir John, obviously,” Giles said, re-reading the letter.
“Nothing about this is obvious to me,” Dalton said.
“Then order some wine and I’ll tell you all about it,” Giles said happily. “The story, as it were, is coming to an end.”
As he said so, though, he wondered if he were not too optimistic. He still did not know who Sir John really was or why the man had set this whole scheme in motion. What hedidknow, though, was that Sir John had some kind of designs on Miss Dell and he was not who he said he was.
*
Kitty had closetedherself in her bedchamber until the late afternoon, reading the diary and then reading it again. It documented John Hill’s lofty dreams and aspirations, his new ideas, his hopes, and how they all unfolded. Some of his ambitions were realized, but his crowning ambition was not—entry into the Royal Society.
Throughout the volume, the writer’s feelings on all of these happenings appeared to become more and more agitated. Kitty could not know if John Hill himself suffered greatly from his disappointments, but it was clear enough that this servant who kept record had felt them all keenly. The tone grew darker as the writings went on until they almost hinted at madness. The end most definitely hinted that the writer had gone down a very dark path and would not turn round. She read the last page again, wondering what had ever happened after it had been written.
My bones are consumed with the bitterness that has turned into a cancer and eats me alive. My master has been cheated, the world has stolen from him, and I see no way to avenge him. Pray to God somebody else finds the strength to do it for me. May some worthy soul become the truth and the light.
It was an extraordinary thing to think of, that one’s servant should live their life so vicariously through the ones they served. Kitty did not think Hidgson would ever be so affected. On the other hand, whatever affected Hidgson would only be known to Hidgson, as that particular man did not share his feelings with anybody as far as she knew.
