“What a strange coincidence,” Tess murmured. Mr. Grimshaw regularly contributed to the Families of Fallen Soldiers as well as an orphanage she championed, but she hadn’t realized his firm represented her husband’s legal interests.
Tess set aside the bank draft, even though she couldn’t quell the niggling feeling that there was something she had missed. When she returned to London later that afternoon, she decided, she would pen a note to Patrick Hennessy and arrange an appointment. She needed to confer with him about her next charitable event—a concert to be held at Drury Lane Theatre in early December—and she would use the opportunity to ask him what he knew about Mr. Grimshaw’s contributions.
Thankfully, Ned didn’t appear any worse for wear when Tess visited him at Marlebone Hospital that afternoon. His physician was not yet ready to offer a prognosis, but Ned seemed almost at home among his fellow veterans, playing cards one-handed while swapping tall tales about his exploits during his army days.
When he caught sight of her, Ned jumped up from the table and hurried over to greet her. A new light shone in his eyes that filled her heart with gladness, as did his report on his previous night’s slumber.
“I was dead to the world, yer grace. Slept better than I can remember in o’r two years. Dint hear the voices once. No bad dreams, not a single one.”
Tess was still smiling by the time her visit ended. According to Mr. Geary, the ghosts in Ned’s head might never go away, but with proper care, the debilitating effects of his trauma should lessen over time.
Upon leaving the hospital, she decided to call on Patrick Hennessy at once rather than wait for a formal appointment, and so directed her coachman to Covent Garden, where the actor had converted a small warehouse into a theater for his troupe’s rehearsals and productions.
When she was shown into his office, Hennessy appeared glad to see her, yet his restrained greeting was significantly more cautious than in the past. Clearly her marriage had impacted their relationship, Tess concluded—perhaps because he was now wary of rousing the Duke of Rotham’s ire.
Hennessy relaxed somewhat when she began the conversation with a topic near and dear to his heart: His investigations into the spirit world.
“I regret that the rumors of Falwell Castle being haunted by ghosts were slightly exaggerated,” Tess said lightly, before recounting her adventures over the past fortnight—how Ned Crutchley had posed as the ghost of Rotham’s murdered ancestor to scare away the castle servants so that a local band of thieves could store their booty beneath the dungeons undetected.
Hennessy chuckled at the conclusion of her narrative. “I cannot say I am not disappointed,” the actor commented. “But this one incident still does not disprove the existence of spirits.”
Tess then asked him how the planning for the Drury Lane concert was proceeding.
“The program is coming together well, your grace. Indeed, your new title has unexpectedly opened doors, garnering renowned performers and patrons alike. I did not think it shameless, however, to use every advantage we have.”
Tess smiled faintly. She was not above using her new, albeit unwanted title, either.
Finally, when they had finished discussing which acts to hire and which to cross off the prospective program list, Tess opened her reticule. After showing him the bank draft signed by Daniel Grimshaw, she asked if Hennessy knew why the solicitor had always been so generous.
“I beg your pardon, your grace? I do not understand the question.”
Tess watched Hennessy thoughtfully as she explained. “Until now, I never wondered why Mr. Grimshaw was so eager to part with his fortune. Do you perhaps know what motivates him?”
The actor looked strangely uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t venture to guess, your grace.”
“It seems curious,” she mused aloud, “that his firm handles Rotham’s legal and financial affairs. Are there other connections that you are aware of?”
When he remained silent, Tess added casually, “Tell me, has Rotham ever contributed to any of our theatrical endeavors without my knowledge?”
Hennessy’s face became shuttered. “Well … he has not contributed any funds directly that I know of.”
“What about indirectly?”
After a marked hesitation, he grimaced. “Perhaps you should discuss the matter with the duke, your grace.”
Tess’s gaze turned penetrating. “I prefer to discuss it with you now, Mr. Hennessy. I should like an honest answer, please.”
“It is not my place to say anything.”
“Why not?”
“The duke bade me keep my mouth shut.”
Tess would not relent, however. “What were you not supposed to reveal to me, Mr. Hennessy?”
“Honestly … I don’t know for a fact what the truth is.”
“But you have your suspicions, do you not?”