You have an impressive bundle of documents with you Miss Lambert, and I must say it is a very intriguing tale. I'm afraid I shall have to ask Mr. Jones, my partner, to join us; He's a lot older, and I'm sure he can shed some light on the matter. He got up and went out of the room. Victoria looked around and started to count the books in the glass bookcase behind his mahogany desk. When she got to 43, she heard someone shouting.
Doesn't she know what time it is, my supper will be ruined? Mr. Acheson reappeared with an elderly gentleman in a pair of red breeches. Well, young lady, he shouted, what is it?
Victora decided he was deaf, not angry. I've come about the Landsborough Estate. My late father left some documents pertaining to the estate, and I would like to know what his connection to it was.
Mr. Jones looked sternly at Acheson, who stood up and offered him his seat. The Landsborough Estate. Yes, I remember, it was quite something. He stared out of the window as if the view of the Inn opposite would assist his memory. Captain Landsborough was a gambler. Before he could continue Victoria gasped. In the letter, it had mentioned gambling. If I may continue, he wasn't used to being interrupted, Captain Landsborough was a gambler, and one evening he was playing cards with the Duke of Haslemere and a couple of others. The old Duke was well known for his prowess at three card brag, a game that requires a considerable amount of skill in the art of bluffing. Victoria was interested in the game, just the outcome. Apparently Captain Landsborough got into difficulties early on in the evening and kept upping the stakes in order to recoup his losses, in my opinion, a very foolish strategy.
What was the outcome of the evening, Mr. Jones? Victoria asked, trying to avoid a lengthy account of the game plan Mr. Jones would have used had he been at the table.
Lost the lot, put up his house and his land in the last hand and lost it to the Duke.
But, surely, she gasped, surely the Duke could see that Captain Landsborough had an affliction. Why did he take the estate and not tell Captain Landsborough not to be so foolish.
Mr. Jones looked across at the Inn again. It was time for his daily ration of rum, and he was eager to cross the road. The old Duke was a mean man, quite different to his wife. Why she married him, nobody knows. His voice got louder, to the point where Acheson went and stood next to the door. No, the Duke took the estate and Landsborough disappeared with his wife, who I seem to remember at the time was expecting a baby. He stood up and looked at Victoria. His demeanor softened when he noticed how young she was. We did the transfer, and if Mr. Acheson would care to look, the file will be in the archive room under L for Landsborough. I wish you a pleasant evening. He walked past Acheson and tutted.
When Acheson had retrieved the file, he put it on his desk and opened the lid slowly as if he was afraid the contents would jump out and frighten him. He pulled out a large document with a red seal on it.
This is the contract of sale. Here are the signatures of the Duke and Mr. Landsborough. He turned the paper to Victoria, who stood up and looked at the signatures.
It's the same signature as that on the unsent letter I found in my father's room, she said. She sat down with a thud.
It says here that Captain Landsborough was in the Irish Guards. Did you find any evidence of that among your father's belongings? Victoria reached into her travel case and pulled out the medals. Engraved around the edge of each were the words, Irish Guards.
Roberts was a tall man who over the years had gained a significant stoop. As a young footman, he'd been expected to carry heavy coal scuttles to the fireplaces in the house. The old Duke had enjoyed having guests to stay, and most weekends the house had been full, and each bedroom had had a fire than needed providing for.
My Lord, there is a young lady to see you, she says her name is Lambert. Edward put down his newspaper and peered at Roberts, who seemed to be getting closer to the ground by the day.
What does she want, I'm not expecting anybody?
She won't tell me, my Lord.
Really, what time is it?
Gone eight, my Lord.
Victoria had spent a long time discussing the estate, and its transfer with Mr. Acheson. Kind Mr. Acheson had offered her a lift in his carriage and she'd gratefully accepted. His motives were not entirely honorable and when she'd stepped down from the carriage he'd put his hand on an inappropriate place, in the name of assisting her. Victoria had something of her mother's temper, and it soon became clear to him that it hadn't been a good idea.
Then, show her in, Edward said.
Victoria hadn't managed to see much of the house from the outside; it was quite dark. If the interior were anything to go by, it would have been a magnificent sight. Her cottage could have fitted into a third of the entrance hall. Roberts took her bonnet and coat and hung them on the coat rack behind the potted palm. It wasn't a palm plant, more a palm tree that reached up the side of the grand staircase to the first floor. The drawing room was to the left through an impressive mahogany double door. She followed Roberts.