Nine
London was as different from Greenley as a snake to a pigeon, and Victor savored every moment. He had been right, there were cars driving down paved roads, but there were still horses as well. It had an air of modernity that his new home lacked and he wondered once again why he stayed there.
He walked to the house of an old friend, Judge Ronald Perkins, who had been one of his professors at law school. These days he sat on the High Court but always made time for Victor. When he knocked on the door, he was surprised when Judge Perkins answered it himself.
“Victor, it’s good to see you.” He held out a hand and Victor shook it firmly with a smile. “Come in, come in,” Judge Perkins said.
“Thank you, sir.” Victor walked with him down the hall to a beautifully appointed study and sat in one of the chairs Judge Perkins indicated. “You have a lovely home.”
“You’ve never been in the new house? I’d offer you a tour but I don’t have much time to talk before I have to go to court. Can I offer you some scotch?”
“That would be nice,” Victor said, puzzled when Judge Perkins went to a liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of scotch whiskey. “If you don’t mind asking, sir, where are your servants?”
“I’m afraid I’m in the process of looking for new ones,” he replied, handing Victor one of the two glasses of scotch. “I found out one of them was stealing from me and when I dismissed him, everyone but my cook and driver walked out along with him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Victor said.
“As was I. Particularly because I have a new house to figure out. But enough about my staffing woes. Tell me more about this will you’re having trouble with,” said the judge. Victor took the leather folio out of the case he had brought along and handed it to the judge. “Excellent. I was hoping you’d bring a copy. Now, tell me exactly what the problem is.”
“Of course.” Victor explained to him as best he could about the late Lord Whittemore’s will and desire to divorce Cordelia, leaving out the fact that she was a beautiful, talented woman that he wanted to get into a private corner for a few minutes.
“I see.” Judge Perkins perused the will for a moment, then flipped to the back page. “I see he had it notarized, so it was filed with the court. That does make things a bit more complicated.”
“How so?”
“It’s been filed with the court and approved, so I’m afraid the conditions of the will are valid,” Judge Perkins said, shaking his head. “Not only valid but legally binding. Unless Lord Whittemore remains married to his wife and produces an heir to the Whittemore estate and lordship the whole of the estate will be forfeit and distributed to charity as per the terms he specified.”
“I see,” Victor said, dismayed. “There must be some way around it.”
“There’s only one thing I can think of,” Judge Perkins said. “If you can prove that either the late Lord Whittemore wasn’t in his right mind or that there was some sort of misconduct on the part of his solicitor, then the will might be invalidated.”
“That’s definitely a possibility,” Victor said, rubbing his jaw. “Unfortunately, that first option would involve the town doctor and I’m not sure he’d want to talk about something like that to a solicitor, especially one from out of town.”
“Not a very welcoming town, is Greenley?” Judge Perkins raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his scotch, making Victor laugh.
“I’m afraid they still see me as an outsider. You know how those country people tend to be. They’d be happiest if no one ever moved in.” He swirled his scotch around his glass. It was a fine liquor and Victor was glad to share it with his old friend, but he couldn’t help his mind straying to thoughts of Cordelia. “Would Lady Whittemore have any recourse if she found out something unsavory about her husband?”
“Unsavory?” Judge Perkins looked interested. “What sort of unsavory are we talking about?”
“Just a rumor at the moment,” Victor said. “I’m trying to get more information but the going is slow. As I said, they don’t seem inclined to trust me.”
“I suppose you’ll have to rely on your good looks.” Judge Perkins finished his whiskey and set the glass aside. “I’m afraid that I must be on my way to court,” Judge Perkins said. “I do hope that my assistant had my robes pressed like I requested. The last few times his performance has been less than stellar.”
“It’s difficult to find good help these days,” Victor said, setting aside his glass. “Thank you so much for your time, I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no trouble,” Judge Perkins said. “I still think you’re being wasted all the way out in the country. You should have stayed here and become a barrister. You’ve got a knack for getting the truth out of people.” They walked together to the door. “Perhaps you’ll be able to get the doctor to tell you what you need to hear.”
“Perhaps,” Victor agreed, thinking to himself that there was likely only one secret being hidden in the Whittemore family. Whether he was having affairs with men or women, his infidelity wasn’t in question in Greenley but Cordelia would get hurt whether she already knew or he was the one to tell her. “I’ll be sure to tell you how things work out.”
“Please do. I’m interested to see how this ends up. Safe travels.” Judge Perkins closed the door as Victor went down the front steps.
As he walked toward the train station, he found himself thinking about his sister. Her last letter had been about what he expected, worrying about how she was going to get along, and he decided to take the time to go see her before he went back to Greenley.
He hadn’t been to her flat in a while, and he hoped she still lived there. Victor raised a hand to hail a cab and waited for one to come by. He couldn’t remember the address on her envelope but it was worth a try.
Catherine’s flat was in a shabby three-story building in a part of town that had seen better days. As soon as he got out of the cab the driver sped away, as if he was afraid someone might see him there and get the wrong idea. Victor went up the stairs to what he hoped was his sister’s flat and knocked on the door. The woman who answered had a round, sweet face framed by black hair very much like Victor’s, and as soon as she saw him her eyes lit up.
“Victor! Hello!” She hugged him tightly, then motioned for him to follow her into the flat. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you as well, Cat. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to write back to you, I’ve been so busy since my associate passed away that I’ve scarcely had time to breathe.” He looked around the one-room flat as he spoke, trying not to feel guilty.
Like the building that housed it, it was tired and worn but Catherine had done what she could to make it look nice. A beautifully embroidered sampler was hanging on one wall with a vase of wildflowers, and across the room dried flowers hung upside down. The little splashes of color were very much like his sister, and he was glad to see it. She’d had precious little to be happy about lately.
“Shall I make some tea? I’ve got some nice biscuits I’ve been saving for a special occasion, if they haven’t gone stale, of course.” She went to the washtub and wood stove that served as a primitive sort of kitchen and Victor’s heart ached for her.
“Why don’t I take you somewhere to eat instead? Your choice, anything you want.” He was grinning jovially and hoped his sister wouldn’t pick up on how dismayed he was about her living conditions. Catherine turned to him, surprised.
“Really? That would be wonderful! I haven’t had the money to dine out in quite some time. I’ll put on a nicer dress first, though.” She opened the closet door, which was hanging askew from its hinges, and took out a soft yellow dress. “If you’ll just step outside a moment, I’ll change,” Catherine said.
“Of course.” Victor went out into the hall and closed the door. If he had still been working in London and studied to be a barrister, he might have been able to take care of his sister.
“All right, I’m ready!” Without a lady’s maid or assistant, Catherine couldn’t exactly wear the sort of hairstyles and fashionable dresses Cordelia did but she looked lovely all the same. She’d twisted her hair up to keep it off her neck and set a plain hat over it that complemented her yellow dress. For all her misfortune, Catherine still had her pride and Victor knew she wouldn’t let him get her a better flat or clothes. She would barely accept the money he sent her. The only thing there was to do was be her loving older brother. He could handle that.
“Let’s walk to the main street and hail a cab,” Victor said. “I don’t feel like walking back to London proper today.”
“Fair enough.” Catherine followed him down the sidewalk and Victor noticed two women in nicer dresses turn to watch them pass.
Though her face no longer bore the bruises she so often wore when he saw her, he still saw two women look at her disdainfully. Victor had always been disgusted when he saw people treat his sister that way. It wasn’t as if it was her fault her drunk of a husband beat her until she couldn’t have children, nor her fault that he’d decided to cast her aside for a younger, prettier wife. They assumed the worst of her anyway simply because she bore the label of ‘divorced woman.’ No doubt they thought he was a lover, or even a customer. As always, Catherine held her head high and walked past them.
His mind automatically went to Cordelia. Once Arthur divorced her, she would no doubt return to her parents’ home and remain there until she found another husband. She didn’t seem the type to be able to live on her own, and the things she was used to having cost money.
There was always one other option, and it was much more pleasant. Allow her to remain married to Arthur, drag out the case, and start an affair of his own with her. It would be the perfect crime, and he imagined unbuttoning her dress and pushing it down so he could kiss her shoulders. Victor was certain she would have beautiful shoulders.
“Victor? Are you listening?”
“Of course I am, Cat. What sort of a brother would I be if I wasn’t?” He turned his attention back to his little sister and her troubles, then an idea hit him. “I have a friend who’s a judge here in town,” he said. “His serving staff all seem to have left him unexpectedly. I’m sure he would give you some work as a housekeeper.”
“Oh really?” Catherine’s face lit up. “That would be wonderful!” She stopped in the middle of the street and threw her arms around her brother, something he was sure didn’t help her reputation. “Will you give me his name?”
“I’ll do you one better, I’ll speak to him about it myself before I leave. He’s a good man, and I get the idea he’s kind to his servants. When they’re not stealing from him, that is,” Victor said.
“Do you think he’ll hire me on, even though everyone thinks I’m immoral?” The look of worry on Catherine’s face pained him and he patted her hands.
“Don’t worry about that. His wife left him but they’re still married for the time being. No one will think any less of you.”
“I hope not,” Catherine said as a cab came toward them. “I don’t want to be fired again when someone starts a rumor that I’m a whore at night.”
“You definitely needn’t worry about that,” Victor said with a laugh. “The only servant Ronald has left is his cook. He’ll be glad to have you.” The cab stopped beside them and Catherine hugged him one more time before he opened the door for her. Victor patted her on the back, hoping he was telling her the truth. He didn’t think he could bear his little sister’s sadness if he wasn’t. “Now come on, where do you want to go?”