That would explain the comment in Uncle Simon’s letter about stupid people.
“Let me ask you this,” Adam said. “Can you tell me who Jonathan Booker and Sidney Wolf are?”
Mr. Faukes’ brows dipped as he appeared deep in contemplation. Then he slowly shook his head.
Adam expressed his thanks to Mr. Faukes and left. To her surprise, he choose not to interview James Ashburnham.
Once they had returned to the carriage, she asked, “Who are Jonathan Booker and Sidney Wolf?”
“The two witnesses to your uncle’s will.”
Chapter 9
"Where are we going?" his wife asked.
"To my solicitor's." He felt guilty that his obsession to investigate Hastings' will was keeping him from showing his bride the delights of London.
"For his advice on Uncle's will?"
"Yes." He peered from the window, glad they were ensconced in the coach on this blustery, gray day. At least it wasn't raining.
"Are you sure it's permissible for you to spend so much time away from your business?"
A smile eased across his face. "This is, after all, my honeymoon. Am I not entitled to time off from work?" He clasped her hand. "Our honeymoon. And I mean to show you some of London's sights. Tell me a place that holds allure for you."
She considered his question for a moment. "I should like to see Westminster Abbey."
Her response surprised him. "What is it about the place that appeals to you?"
She giggled. "Because I have an active imagination, I will be able to stand in the nave while my mind conjures a vision of kings' lavish coronations. I'll fancy myself one of those coronet-wearing peeresses who have a clear view of the sovereign slowly moving toward the altar, long robes flowing behind him, then departing the same route with an enormous crown on the royal head.
"And there's a maudlin streak in me that has always sought to see where the country's great statesmen and authors are buried. Ridiculous, I know."
"Not at all. Now for my confession." He paused as she looked up anxiously. "I've never been to Westminster Abbey. Your description has now kindled my desire to go there."
Since they had wed he'd taken up the practice of sitting next to her rather than across from her in the carriage. It was not at all unpleasant. He attributed the pleasant sensation to the light rose scent he had come to associate with her.
They crossed the Thames and before long were back in Holborn. His solicitor, Donald Emmott, did business in a building not more than a three-minute drive from Wycliff's establishment.
At Emmott's place of business, Adam and Emma disembarked and entered the building. In spite of the many years Emmott had worked for Adam and his brothers, this was the first time one of them had ever come here. When men were as wealthy as the Birminghams, those in their employ always came to them.
Adam's late father, who was the shrewdest man he'd ever known—despite not being a gentleman—had selected Emmott many years ago, and the solicitor's professionalism could not be surpassed.
As soon as Adam announced himself to Emmott's clerk, the solicitor fairly flew from his office to greet him. (Actually a man of Emmott's advanced years did not exactly fly, but he hobbled at a fast clip.)
Though the man must be close to eighty, his voice was strong and clear when he greeted Adam. Smiling broadly, he then turned to Emma. "And this young lady must be your lovely bride. I am, indeed, honored that Mr. and Mrs. Adam Birmingham have entered my establishment."
"Thank you, sir, for the friendly greeting," Adam said. "There's a matter regarding my wife's relative that we wish to ask you about."
"Please come into my office."
Unlike Wycliff, Adam's solicitor did not put a large desk between him and his clients. Emmott sat on an armchair near a cozy velvet sofa and invited the newlyweds to sit on the sofa. "Now what is the problem?" he asked. His white eyebrows dipped in concern.
Adam showed him Emma's letter from her uncle, explained that the uncle died before she arrived, and revealed his suspicions about the new will.
Emmott placed spectacles on his nose and quickly looked over it. Eyeing Emma, he asked, "May I keep this for a short time?"
She nodded her consent.
The solicitor then regarded Adam. "I believe you have every right to be skeptical. In fact, I'm shocked over Wycliff's unprofessionalism. If one of my living clients sent me a new will, I would demand they do it over under my supervision. Home-made wills are too easy to break."