The Sinner (23 page)

“If you feel forced, do not blame me. This conversation was not at my request.”

“Hear me out. It is in your interests to do so.” He managed to appear shocked, stern, and sad all at once. “I regret to say that I have reason to believe that she has formed an alliance with a man besides yourself.” He peered over, waiting for the reaction.

Dante let the silence stretch past the point of drama. At least now he knew who had arranged to have that man follow Fleur.

“You appear remarkably indifferent, sir,” Farthingstone said disdainfully. “If you do not care about her welfare, I at least expected you to have an interest in your own reputation.”

“I care a great deal about both. I am merely wondering what you expect of me and why you have come here to lay out all this information for my consumption.”

“As things stand, you are responsible for her. I did not approve of this marriage. I can still go forward on the question of whether she had the presence of mind to make such a contract. I believe that if I do so with what I have just told you, in addition to what I knew before, I will succeed.”

“I doubt that.”

“With this new evidence, I am very confident. It is Fleur’s well-being that concerns me, however. If I were convinced that she was in good hands, that her husband understood the need for her to be controlled and her fortune to be preserved, I might be willing to stand down and avoid the lengthy legal battle that looms. After all, she cannot move in any way without your approval. You must sign any contracts or deeds. The law gives you total authority, no matter what independence she may be under the illusion she still has.”

Dante kept his expression bland, but Farthingstone had finally said something interesting.

Farthingstone knew about the private agreement regarding the disposition of Fleur’s inheritance.

Which meant Fleur had told someone. Dante guessed who that someone was. Her adviser would need to be assured that she still had control over her fortune; otherwise, any advice would be meaningless.

She had told Siddel, and now Farthingstone knew.

“Sir, surely you understand the implications of what I am saying? I know that you have little interest in financial matters or business, but—”

“I understand the implications for me. I am wondering what you think they are for you.”

The door opened, Farthingstone rushed in. “Her frequent sales of property must be stopped. Land is still the best investment. She has spoken for some time about selling the land in Durham. I think that would be unwise.”

“Is her welfare your only concern on that matter?”

Farthingstone reacted with insult. Halfway to high dudgeon, he thought better of it. Somewhat sheepishly, he shook his head. “You are sharp, sir. Very sharp. I always said that you were underesteemed. You force a confession from me.”

“Do not feel any obligation to explain anything to me.”

“No, no, it may be for the best. I must confess that I have an ulterior interest. It is not only the rashness of selling that land that I deplore. I also do not care for the use to which a part of it will be put.”

“The school.”

“My land adjoins hers. This will not be a school for sons of gentlemen. She is not planning another Eton, is she? It will be full of the rabble of the world, ill-mannered boys who lack discipline or intelligence. Not only is it a fool’s errand, but it is one that will significantly affect my enjoyment of my own property.”

Dante liked Farthingstone even less than before. He also wanted to laugh. If Farthingstone was being honest, if all of his machinations had been for this reason, it meant that Fleur had gotten married because her neighbor did not want a boys’ school ruining his view while he rode his horse through his farms.

“I trust that no sale has occurred yet. That no deeds have been signed,” Farthingstone ventured.

“No, not yet.”

Farthingstone could not entirely hide his relief. “I am willing to make it worth your while to keep her from selling that land and building that school,” he said. “Shall we say, oh, two hundred a year to ensure that the land remains as farms. I calculate that the proceeds of a sale, if put in the funds, would give that amount. Accommodate me on this, and you can have the money and still hold the rents.”

It was an outright bribe, but an interesting one. Two hundred pounds a year would not support a school, but if Fleur sold those farms and put the money in trust, it appeared that was all the income would be.

Farthingstone’s bulbous nose reddened as he awaited an answer. That rosy glow announced the man’s excitement as no physical agitation could.

“I will need some time to consider this,” Dante said.

“There is no time for long consideration, sir. She is having the designs for that building drawn even as we speak.” He cocked his head curiously and assumed a very smug expression. “Or didn’t you know that?”

Dante suddenly knew why he disliked business affairs. It was not the affairs themselves that he found tedious and unpleasant, but the sorts of men so often drawn to them. Men like Gregory Farthingstone.

“Your offer is a handsome one. I will let you know my decision,” he said, rising.

“Soon, I hope. As I said, I would rather not present what I know to a court, since that is so public. It would embarrass both her and you. I expect we all want to avoid that.”

A bribe, and now a threat.

“I will decide soon, I assure you.”

Farthingstone took his leave, and Dante sat at the desk. Someday Fleur would lay out contracts for him to sign regarding the school on this surface. He had thought it would be a year at least before she did so, but it appeared not.

It was time to learn how thoroughly his wife had disobeyed him while they were not really married. He also needed to know what she was really up to with that property.

chapter
22

F
leur sat at her
secrétaire
laboring over a letter. Dante’s revelations about Mr. Siddel had weighed on her mind since hearing them. She could not deny that the evidence was mounting against him. That did not speak well of her judgment in allowing Siddel a role in the Grand Project.

It was time to demand an accounting, and if he did not give one it was time to release Mr. Siddel of his obligations to her.

Dante’s unexpected arrival startled her. Her head snapped around at the sound of his bootstep.

She set down her pen and, as she turned toward him, closed the
secrétaire
.

She tried to do it casually, so she would not appear furtive. It did not work. She saw his gaze take in the action.

He stood over her, with an expression both serious and alert. With one hand he opened the
secrétaire
again. “You do not need to stop because I am here, my dear.”

The lowered lid revealed her recently received mail and sheets of papers. It also displayed the letter she had just been writing. He did not really look at any of it, but she worried that he saw the salutation to Mr. Siddel penned at the new letter’s top.

He caressed her face much as he did when they made love, with thoughtful concentration. She sensed something besides desire in him as he looked at her.

“What is it, Dante?”

“I am wondering if you are truly willing to be completely married, Fleur.”

“I would think after yesterday it is obvious that I am.”

“I am not only talking about sex. Nor did you, in the dressing room. There is more to marriage than sharing a bed.”

His gaze made her uncomfortable. Her open
secrétaire
did too. Her heart jumped when he gestured to the papers. “You are very busy with something that you do not want me to know about.”

She shifted the papers around, pretending to dismiss them as insignificant. It gave her the chance to slip the letter to Mr. Siddel below some others. “I engage in the usual correspondence of a woman. It would be of no interest to you.”

“I would find the usual correspondence very dull. However, there is a part of your life that I would find very interesting, I think. Not only for practical reasons, or those relating to my responsibilities as your husband, but because it is something very important to you. I cannot know you fully unless I know it.”

He was accusing her of withholding herself from him. Of giving him her body but not the deeper parts. She could not say he was wrong. The last two days she had felt guilty whenever she considered the Grand Project. Being really married had turned it into the Grand Deception.

His hand moved to the desk’s surface. With alarming precision, he slid the letter to Mr. Siddel out until it was visible.

“I told you not to communicate with him further, Fleur.”

She closed her eyes, mortified. Disobeying him before had not seemed so terrible, since they were not really married and she had reserved rights to her own life in their arrangement. All that had changed now, and the letter was a betrayal.

She had known it was. It had been impossible to write because of how acutely she felt she denied Dante in doing it. After half an hour, only two lines had been penned because of how guilty she had felt.

“You told me once that you have a purpose in life, Fleur. One that made you feel alive and young and that could not be denied. I would like to learn more about it, as your husband and lover, because it is important to you. If Siddel is involved in it, I want to know how.”

“Are you demanding to know?”

“Yes. However, it is my hope that you would like to share this with me. If you were willing to trust me with your fear, I would like to believe that you can trust me with this.”

She looked up at him. She had promised not to tell him, but she had made bigger promises since then. With her body and with her heart. She had made promises even Dante did not know of, in choosing the kind of marriage she wanted. That was why it had been so hard to write this letter. She did not want to deceive this husband. She did not want to compromise what this marriage could be.

She rose and walked over to a coffer in the corner. “I intended to tell you, when it was all arranged. I would have had to. There was no way you would have signed the documents without hearing it all.”

“Did you fear that I would not keep my promise?”

“I think that you always keep them. It is why I extracted one from you. However, if you learned of it before it was all arranged, I expected you to worry that my plans were unwise and try to stop me.” She opened the coffer. “Not only unwise. A little addled. The sort of thing that a woman who was not entirely sound of mind would dream up.”

“There is nothing addled about a school, Fleur. I told you to delay it, but I never said it should not be built.”

She lifted some long rolls of paper from the coffer. “It is not only about a school, Dante.”

He followed her into her bedchamber. She dumped the rolls on the bed. Choosing the largest, she opened it fully.

It showed plans for a large building of four levels. Chambers had been denoted for various uses. The architect’s address, on the bottom, was in Piccadilly. That must have been where the footman followed Fleur.

“The school,” he said. It was much bigger than he expected.

“It is only preliminary. There are changes to be made, and much work to be done.”

“You had this made recently, didn’t you? Even though I told you to delay it.”

“I wanted to see how the building would look. I also needed to estimate the costs.”

“You also had no intention of delaying anything.” He was not truly angry, but he was also not in the mood for even mild dissembling.

“No. I had no intention of delaying.”

She had intended to go forward and arrange the sale of whatever land she needed to finance this school. She was going to present him with documents to sign that he thought should not be signed for her own protection. In gaol, Hampton had predicted just such a development and laid out the conflict between honor and responsibilities that could result.

“I could not delay,” she said. “The rest of the project was going to happen soon or not at all. Once it became known, the school would have been a mere addendum. The school was only my private reason for the rest.”

“The rest?”

“It is all here.” She unrolled a smaller sheet. It bore a map of County Durham.

He bent over it. “What are these little squares with numbers, along these lines?”

“Parcels of land. The numbers refer to a key I have created that indicates the ownership. See, here is my property, and I am number one. Up there is Gregory’s, and he is number two, and so forth.”

He noticed the number one in some tiny parcels, in some cases at a distance from her large property. “You have been purchasing some of this land, haven’t you?”

“That is how I used the money from the lands I sold.”

She had sold land and bought other land. It would not be notable, except that her plan was to sell the Durham lands too. Why bother, unless she thought it would be easier to make one big sale instead of many when the time came?

“The first thing you must know is that I realize my plan is risky,” she said. “I expected some resistance from you. That was why I wanted to wait until every piece was in place, which I thought would be very quickly done.”

He lifted the map to examine it more closely. Those little parcels flanked lines on the map. Two long, sinuous lines moved from the center, joined, then snaked to the coast to form a long “Y.” The point of jointure was right on Fleur’s lands.

“What is risky about it? You are selling land to endow a school. It sounds quite simple.”

“It is not the proceeds from the land alone that will endow the school. There would not be enough. It costs a lot of money to support all those boys.”

He saw another line, much like the “Y,” stretching from Darlington to the town of Stockton.

“I will be using the proceeds from the land sale to make another investment. That is the risky part.”

He only half-heard her. His concentration on the map sharpened. Suddenly he realized what he was looking at.

Those lines were not there to help Fleur keep track of bits of land she had bought. Nor were those lines roads. The turnpikes had other markings.

“What is this risky investment?” he demanded, already guessing the answer.

She stepped close and ran her finger along the “Y.” “That is going to be a railroad, Dante.”

A railroad.

His wife, the saintly Fleur Monley who had put herself on the shelf and devoted herself to helping the downtrodden, planned to build a railroad.

He looked at her. Her expression was a combination of pride and worry.

“It is more than risky, Fleur. It is almost untried.”

“Not completely so.”

“Did Siddel lure you into this?”

“It is all my idea. Look.” She peered over his arm and pointed. “There is coal here in central Durham. Everyone has known that for a century. Only it is difficult to transport it to the coast, and the land is not suited for canals. With a railroad, however, it can be moved and those coal fields can be opened.”

“You have the coal going to Hartlepool, not to Newcastle.”

“The surveyor said it would be easier that way, and also it will not have to cross lands owned by members of the Grand Alliance. I do not think they would allow it.”

He let the map fall back on the bed. He stared at it, more stunned than he wanted to admit.

She had devised this on her own. She had seen the possibilities and had paid for surveying the route of this railroad.

Not only so she could endow her school. He guessed that more had driven her than that. Not greed either.
Purpose
. Accomplishment. The satisfaction of doing it first and doing it well.
It is all my idea.

“I hope that you don’t disapprove. Many people do not favor the railroads and think they are blights. They will not go away, however, and—”

“How long have you been at this?”

“Two years. I had thought about it, and when the land came to me after my mother died, I began planning. It was a game at first, just to see if the idea had merit.”

“On your own? No help at all?”

“I had some advice at the beginning.”

“Siddel?”

“Not Mr. Siddel. Mr. Guerney of the Friends answered some questions for me. He is Mrs. Fry’s brother, and—”

“Quaker Guerney? The financier? He is your secret adviser? He is behind this?”

“He gave me some advice, early on. He is not behind it. One railroad is enough for him. He was able to tell me the sorts of profits that could be made, however.”

Huge profits, when it worked. Huge losses when it didn’t. Dante did not know the details, but he knew that the Stockton-to-Darlington line that Guerney had invested in had cost over a hundred thousand pounds. And Fleur’s “Y” was much, much longer.

“You were correct, Fleur. When you brought this to me, I would have demanded a lot of explanation. I will not be able to sign anything unless I get it.”

She sat on the bed and gazed forlornly at her map. “I will explain it all, Dante, but I think it is unlikely now that I will be asking for your signature. I made one very big mistake.”

“Siddel.”

“Yes.”

“How did he become involved?”

“I knew of his reputation in forming investment partnerships. So when he came to me, offering to purchase any land I may want to sell—he had heard of my recent dispositions—I made use of the renewal of our acquaintance to eventually propose the plan. Now I wonder if he already knew of others who had similar plans and wanted to purchase my land for that reason to begin with.”

“I think it more likely that he first spoke to you on Farthingstone’s behalf. Whether Farthingstone has his own plans for a railroad or just doesn’t want a school there, I cannot say.”

She began rolling up the drawings. “I have been wondering if he approached me for Gregory too and has been stalling me at Gregory’s request. I wish I knew for certain if he and Gregory have an association.”

“I am sure that they do, Fleur. I just met with Farthingstone. He knows about our arrangement. He knows that you believe you can make plans like this without my approval and that I have agreed to give my signature.”

She did not move. Did not look at him.

“You would have had to let Siddel know that, after we married. Otherwise his efforts on this railroad were a waste of time.”

“We had separate lives, Dante. You did not have to end your old one because of our marriage.” She looked up at him. “I am sorry anyway. It was hard to keep this from you, even if it was my right to, and even though secrecy was vital. I wanted very much to share it with you, as my friend, because it was so important to me.”

He understood, more than he wanted. She wanted to share it with him, but instead she had shared it with Hugh Siddel. Siddel’s involvement with this project, and Fleur’s involvement with Siddel, dated long before those days in that cottage.