AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He thought of arguing, but it was ridiculous to deny it now, when really what he wanted was truth. Tousled, he sat up, pushed his hair off his face, and accepted the hot mug of tea. He sipped it very carefully. He was surprised how good it tasted.
She put her own mug down, climbed into bed beside him, and then sipped hers, too. “Are you still worrying about who betrayed you?” she asked after a moment or two.
“I wish I could find another answer, but we were the only ones who knew exactly where we were going in, and there were several possible ways. They were waiting for us and took us by surprise, one by one.”
“Could there have been a lot of them? One for every possible way in?” she asked.
He thought for a moment. “The more there were of them, the more to split the money. And the more risk of one of them turning informer. They could have been more…I suppose.”
“Could it have been Exeter himself, unintentionally? Someone had to help him get the money. You said it was a very great deal. He wouldn’t have had it in the house!”
“Bank manager, Doyle.”
“Did he know what it was for?”
“Yes, Exeter told him. He had little choice, to raise that much so quickly. If he sold everything, he’d have had to do it at a loss, and in a hell of a hurry.”
“Does he trust this Doyle?”
“I think he did. Not that there was a lot of choice in that either.” He stared at her. “Are you thinking that whoever took her would know he’d go to Doyle?”
“Well, it’s not a great feat of the imagination, is it?” she said reasonably.
“No…” The more the idea settled in his mind, the more it seemed to fit in with all the facts they knew.
“Could he
have told Doyle what the arrangements were, perhaps without realizing how much he was giving away?” Hester went on. “He’d be desperate to get the full amount of money by the time they demanded it. Time was against them all.”
“All?” He took another sip of his tea. He found it oddly relaxing, the heat of it, although it was not cold in the bedroom.
“The kidnappers as well,” she answered. “The longer they had her, the more chance of something going wrong. Perhaps it did.”
“They murdered her, Hester. Slashed her…”
“I know. But perhaps she tried to escape? Or maybe she knew one of them. They might not all have been pirates, or smugglers, or whatever they were. We don’t know who they were, do we? Apart from the man in the boat, who spent his money too openly?”
“Are you thinking it was someone she knew? They both knew? An enemy of Exeter’s, of his own social class?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Not likely. Not to know Jacob’s Island the way these men did.”
“I suppose not. But couldn’t one of them have known it, and have hired the others? Do you know Exeter’s background?”
“Not in river pirates and kidnappers!”
“Isn’t he very rich, indeed?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how he made his money? All of it?”
“You’re letting your imagination run away with you; he makes it in business: building, draining land, and trading. He’s thoroughly respectable. I did check that!”
“William,” she said patiently, “respectability can be bought, and quite a lot of it at a reasonable rate! Put money in the right places and you’d be amazed how it opens doors. A lot of them anyway, though some aren’t for sale.”
He suddenly realized again the gulf between his past and hers. Her parents had been gentry—not nobility, but well acquainted with the aristocracy and their beliefs and manners, from the inside—not looking on from beyond a circle of familiarity. She had occasionally entertained uncles and aunts, cousins with titles. And in her work with Miss Nightingale she had met many titled and privileged people, perhaps nursed their sons in the desolation of battle, when all men are equally vulnerable, wounded and sharing the commonality of death.
