“Now I come to think of it I do recall you mentioning the book. But that still doesn’t explain why you brought the diary with you to London.”
She paused for a moment before speaking. “It’s not a di
ary but a ledger. It contains at least twenty names including Miss Stoneway, and payments ranging from thirty to two hundred pounds. In the back is a list of addresses, mostly here in London.”
“And you found this at Everleigh?” He might have suggested it belonged to his father had it not been for Miss Stoneway’s name. His father died long before the woman was a patient at Morton Manor.
A cool breeze drifted over them, and Rose shivered. Christian contemplated draping his arm around her shoulder, but he glanced behind only to meet Lord Stanton’s beady stare.
“I didn’t find it, Christian, Jacob gave it to me. He stole the book from Cassandra along with the letters.”
What would Cassandra want with such a thing? “And you’re certain it’s not a diary or a list of people Cassandra met at Morton Manor?”
“No, it’s a record of payments made.”
“Perhaps the ledger is the property of Morton Manor, and Cassandra stole it for some reason.” Cassandra often behaved irrationally, acted out of spite. “Perhaps she used it to bribe one of her lovers.”
“Oh, did you get the note I gave to Mrs Parsons?” Rose gripped his arm in a sudden flurry of excitement. “She promised she’d send it up to the house.”
“I did, and you were right. Whether Mr Watson and Cassandra were lovers remains to be seen, but the Reverend Wilmslow is the one who wrote the letters.”
Rose stopped abruptly and turned to face him. He could see her pulse beating hard in her throat. “Oh, Christian, I’m so sorry.” She placed her hand on his chest, and for a moment he forgot where he was. “Have you spoken to him?”
Behind them, Lord Stanton coughed discreetly.
Christian clasped Rose’s hand, placed it in the crook of his arm and continued walking. “He admitted to having relations with Cassandra. The man took me for a fool. The business about poisonous plants was merely a ploy so he could search the house.”
“The children mentioned that the reverend sat with them when they were ill. When he thought they were asleep, he tidied the room.”
“Tidied the room?” Recognition dawned. Damn it all. He should have done more than punch the man. “Cassandra must have told him that Jacob had stolen the letters. No doubt he was desperate to find them before I did.”
“But you know what that means?”
Oh, he knew. Other than daydreaming about Rose, he’d spent the journey to London considering all the problems at Everleigh. “That the sickness in the house has nothing to do with dangerous spores hiding amongst the linen.” His mocking tone conveyed an element of embarrassment, too. He’d been blind. A damn fool.
“Worse than that, Christian. I believe the tonics and tinctures make the staff ill in order to give the reverend access to the house.”
“That means Wilmslow has been poisoning my staff.”
“Perhaps not Wilmslow, is it not Dr Taylor who administers the medicine? Are the concoctions not made by his housekeeper?”
The heavy feeling in his gut told him Taylor was involved. But why? “What has the doctor to gain?”
“Money? You do pay him for his services?”
Dr Taylor struck him as a man too proud to use underhanded methods to gain money. “Not always, he’s refused payment many times, in part because he is just as frustrated as I am when it comes to the lack of progress made. Or so he appears.”
Rose sighed. “The doctor is guilty of something. I suggest we visit an address listed in the back of the ledger. I had my sights set on the one in Bloomsbury. If we ask the right questions, we may get answers.”
A sudden chill passed over him. Rose’s inquisitive mind might lead her to make enquiries on her own. “Promise me you won’t do anything without me. Do not go tearing around the city, knocking on doors.”
How could he trust her word?
Christian came to an abrupt halt outside a stone memorial surrounded by iron railings at the front and a tall topiary hedge to the rear. Lord Stanton stopped walking and remained a few feet behind.
“You must give me your word, Rose.” Panic infused Christian’s tone. “Do nothing without me. Let me examine the book before we make any rash decisions.” Taylor was in London for a reason. Had Cassandra stolen the book from him? “Promise me.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide, her lips parted. “I promise to wait for you. I know you think my word means nothing, but that’s not true. The only reason I broke my vow on the night of the fire was that I couldn’t bear to think of you hurt and alone.” Tears welled in her eyes.