Page 50 of Reforming Lord Neil

Teresa looked to Neil, then back to the earl and his wife. “Of course. If you need to speak to Lord Neil in private—”

“You mistake the matter, Mrs. Clapham.” The countess’s tone was quite gentle. “We have come to speak to you.”

Though obviously somewhat confused, Teresa invited them inside. She introduced Caroline, who had lingered near the stairs, and her mother, who hurried away to prepare coffee for the guests.

The countess sat upon the old sofa in the front room, giving no indication she thought the décor beneath her. Teresa hesitantly took a chair near the fire. Neil remained standing by the window, looking out at the fine carriage, and Inglewood stood beside him, facing the room.

“When my wife told me about your letter,” Inglewood said, voice low and likely meant to be intimidating, “I never imagined you told the truth of your circumstances. Seeing one of your sort dressed like a farm tenant is most unexpected.”

Neil said nothing and did not even grind his teeth together. He only smirked. Let Inglewood think what he wanted. His opinion had never much mattered to Neil. He turned enough to watch the proceedings.

“My dear Mrs. Clapham,” the countess said, her gloved hands folded and in her lap. “You can see that we are known to Lord Neil. My family, my husband’s, and Lord Neil’s have known each other for quite some time. We all have ancestral lands in the same area, outside the village of Aldersy, the country seat of the Marquess of Alderton, Lord Neil’s father.”

Teresa’s expression remained neutral, and her posture every bit as correct as Lady Inglewood’s. “What brings you to my home, my lady?” she asked, hardly batting an eyelash. One would think she entertained nobility on a regular schedule.

The earl stepped toward Teresa, away from Neil. “Lord Neil recently drew our attention to your circumstances, Mrs. Clapham. It seems he met your brother-in-law, one Frederick Clapham, and was immediately suspicious of the man’s behavior, and how your account of your husband’s character did not match with what you were told after he died.”

At last Teresa looked to Neil, her expression showing confusion. “My husband died a year and one half ago. I am afraid everything is quite settled. His solicitor and my brother-in-law did all they could. They repaid all of my late husband’s debts.”

“No, my dear.” The countess reached across the small space separating her from Teresa, and Neil’s shoulders tensed in anticipation. He knew, somehow, exactly what was coming. “Your brother-in-law and the solicitor, a Mr. Doherty, paid all of their own debts with your money. They lied to you.”

Caroline gasped from the stairway. Neil turned, seeing her young face go pale, and went to her. He held out a hand and the girl hurried down to take it. She stood close to him, listening intently.

Mrs. Godwin stood in the kitchen doorway, her tray with coffee pot and cups rattling. She hurried forward to put the tray on the table before the couch. “I beg your pardon, my lady. What do you mean?”

Mrs. Godwin stepped back and put her hand to her daughter’s shoulders.

Teresa’s face had gone paler than Caroline’s. “You must be mistaken. Frederick assured me that my husband gambled away our funds, including my daughter’s dowry and my marriage portion. His solicitor came and showed me the accounts, that the money was all gone.”

The countess looked to the earl, and he slowly shook his head.

“It did not take me long to make inquiries, Mrs. Clapham. Mr. Doherty is a known gambler. He came from a rather affluent family and was limited to the funds he received as an allowance. When your husband died, your brother-in-law seems to have offered Doherty a handsome sum to pay his debts, under your husband’s name, if Doherty would assist him by ensuring the rest of the money left by your husband went into Mr. Frederick Clapham’s pockets.”

“That cannot—It does not make any sense. I lived in my house, my brother-in-law’s house, for six months after the death of my husband. I saw him dismiss servants—”

Lady Inglewood’s interruption was gentle. “All the servants who might grow suspicious or help you.”

Teresa stood. “Our meals were poor, we were not permitted to entertain.”

Mrs. Godwin took her daughter’s hand. “He was angry when I arrived, because I was another mouth to feed, he said.” She started to tremble and leaned against her daughter. “But he was worried I would help Teresa discover the truth. Wasn’t he?”

“That is what I would think.” Inglewood looked back to Neil. “The timing of your letter was most fortunate. We received it the day before I went to Ipswich in order to speak to my own solicitor on a legal matter. I told Esther to answer your letter, but I did not think anything would come of it. I was rather dismissive of your story, at first. I owe you an apology for that, Lord Neil.”

“I do not care for apologies, only answers for Mrs. Clapham.” Neil knew well enough that Inglewood had never had a good opinion of him. What mattered was what the earl had discovered on Teresa’s behalf.

Inglewood continued his tale. “My solicitor and two lawyers went to work learning more about the Clapham brothers, and they uncovered the information swiftly.” The earl’s tone changed, his words meant to reassure Teresa. “Your money, Mrs. Clapham, still exists. It is sitting in the private Cobbold Bank of Ipswich at this very moment. Your brother-in-law has used some of it, and I am afraid a large sum set aside by your late husband was given to Mr. Doherty.”

Tears fell from Teresa’s eyes. She let them, gripping her mother’s hands tightly. “Henry did not leave me destitute?” She looked to Caroline, then Neil. “And Frederick lied about his own brother. Ruined Henry’s name.”

“A knave if I have ever heard of one,” the countess said.

Mrs. Godwin sniffled, then found a handkerchief in her apron to dab at her eyes. “I never liked Frederick.”

Caroline looked up at Neil, her hand still in his. “What does this mean?” she whispered.

Inglewood heard and answered with a raised voice. “It means the matter can be taken to the courts. I know my brother-in-law, Sir Isaac, is already in Ipswich setting things up to appear before a judge. He was riled by the tale, Mrs. Clapham. By the time you arrive there, my solicitor and your brother-in-law’s will be prepared to make statements and present evidence to the judge. Restitution will be made at last.”

“By the time I arrive? But—how will I get to Ipswich?”