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This was what concerned him the most, what his people had lost. Nicholas did not know what to begin telling them. Hewillmake things right for them, he resolved.
"We could not salvage nothing!" another tenant cried. "With the fields and stored units gone, there is not a thing left to fall back on for the rest of the year. And the dratted corn laws only make matters worse."
“Damn the corn laws!” another cried.
“We will recover from this!” Nicholas called out to them. “You have my word!”
“Your Grace,” the woman he had seen approaching said, “help me with my babe, please.” She was crying as she cradled the infant in her arms. “My babe needs medicine.” She went on to explain how the little boy had been rescued from their now burnt-down home by his cousin. The cousin in question had sustained several burns in the process.
“I will have a physician check your son and nephew. They will be looked after.” He placed a comforting hand on her small shoulder.
“God bless you, Your Grace.” She thanked him profusely.
“Every one of you will be compensated. Your losses will be recovered. I promise you this.” Nicholas reassured his peopleand then left the scene with Barnabas to examine the damage done.
Inventory was taken by both himself and Barnabas before they made their way up to the manor where he was greeted by the servants. The elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Caplin, announced how good it was to see him after a long while before going on to express her regrets on the circumstances of his visit. The manor had been untouched by the fire.
"Investigations commenced immediately after we saw the fire. I engaged several men to find the source," Mr. Barnabas said once they were within the confines of his study.
"And?" Nicholas prompted when the man paused.
"I have reason to believe that the fire was no accident, Your Grace."
"What reason is that?" Nicholas asked. Despite the confirmation of no casualties, he still could help the feeling of dread and unease that the news had brought upon him. And the memories it had awakened were beginning to take a toll on him.
He was responsible for all of his tenants and their families, even the unborn ones if there happened to be some. He would not be able to live with himself if any misfortune were to come upon their lives.
Mr. Barnabas opened his bag and extracted a rolled-up piece of parchment tied up like a scroll with a blue ribbon, and what looked like a missive that very much resembled the one he had received during his afternoon at White’s with Ernest. Like the former, this letter, too, possessed the same plain sealing wax.
"I personally found these strategically placed just outside the vicinity of the fire," Barnabas informed him. "They were contained in a box addressed to you. I feel that whoever left them must have had a hand somehow. And they seem to have done their calculations well, too." He handed Nicholas the papers. "But of course further investigations are being conducted to be certain and will be reported to you as soon as we have something."
Nicholas did not immediately open the letters, instead, he instructed Barnabas on the tenants' settlement, and the renovations to be done before finally dismissing him.
Once he was alone, he reached for the scroll first, opening it. The most confounding piece of document he had ever come across was presented to him: a marriage document. It would not have perplexed him if it were the proof of his marriage to Jenny. No, this was the proof of marriage to an old flame. A woman he had met in France years ago. Vanessa Whittaker.
The document looked all but valid, complete with the parish stamp, his and her signatures, as well as those of two witnesses. Still unable to believe his eyes, he opened the smaller letter. It was written in the same hand as the former letter he had received but this contained the identity of the writer:
The Dowager Viscountess of Digby. Vanessa’s mother.
