Page 75 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“Inch.” Charles inclined his head to the solicitor before taking a seat. “This business with Satterthwaite Court—”

“Yes, yes. Excessively vexing.” Inch sat down. “Your offer was more than generous for an estate of that size. As I said to the man Catmull has representing him in Devonshire, this Mr.…”

“Arbogast.”

“Mr. Arbogast, yes. A decent chap. I told him you’d be willing to go higher if Catmull insisted upon it. But Arbogast informed me—rather extraordinarily—that it wasn’t the sum his client objected to, but to you personally.”

Charles stilled. “To me?”

“That’s the rub of it.”

“I’ve never met the man.”

“No?” Mr. Inch’s mouth flattened. “That is peculiar.”

“It’s irrational,” Charles said.

Inch scratched his side-whiskers. “You haven’t any idea why the man has taken against you?”

“He has no good reason to have done so,” Charles said. “Perhaps I should speak to Arbogast again?”

“It sounds to me as though the matter is out of his hands. If Catmull is refusing to do business with you, that’s an end to it.” Inch cleared his throat. “And there’s a second issue to contend with.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed. “What issue?”

“Arbogast confided that Catmull is in receipt of another offer. It falls short of your offer by seven hundred pounds, but given Catmull’s unpredictable nature, he may well accept it regardless.”

Charles muttered an oath.

“It is unfortunate, to be sure,” Inch said. “I regret there’s nothing else to be done.”

“Oh, but there is.” Charles stood. “I’ll speak with Catmull myself.”

Inch’s face shone with approval. “An excellent idea. I might have suggested it myself, given time to consider the matter.”

Charles wondered. When it came down to it, Inch was no Ombersley. The latter could have devised a solution to the thorniest problem. Whereas Inch seemed disposed to accept every defeat without a struggle.

“I can furnish you with his address in Russell Square.” Inch dipped his quill pen into the inkpot on his desk and dashed off a note. He handed it to Charles. “Though it may prove a wasted journey.”

Pocketing Catmull’s address, Charles bid the solicitor good day.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long chalk.

When Charles arrived in London, he’d confront the matter of Satterthwaite Court in person. He would question Abigail. He’d even interrogate Elizabeth, if he could discover her whereabouts. But first, he’d deal with Elias Catmull.

Had Charles met the man somewhere before?

Charles thought not. Nevertheless…

He supposed it was possible there was some tenuous connection between the pair of them. Catmull might well be a relation of one of the sailors Charles had had cause to discipline in the Navy. Or possibly an uncle or a cousin of some lad Charles had unwittingly snubbed at Eton or the Royal Naval College.

Either might be cause for Catmull to have taken a dislike to Charles without having met him. But neither reason was sufficient to refuse Charles’s offer on the estate.

His very generous offer.

By God, he’d been willing to pay the entire asking price! It was fifteen thousand pounds altogether. Surely no man would forego such a sum over a trifling quarrel.

Not a man in his right mind.