His statement brought a tear of gratitude to my eyes, as it had been a long time since anyone had talked to me with such kindness. I knew the limits of his generosity, for he believed absolutely in my father’s guilt, and, oddly, found I honored him the more for it. It is no easy business to embrace the child of a man who you think has done you such injury.
“That is certainly true,” I replied. “And I think I have been imposed on far more than was just. This is the cause of my visit. You were the trustee of my inheritance, and yet I have no inheritance. My lands are now in other hands, and my position is ruined. You may have considered that all bonds of loyalty between you and my father were dissolved, but your trust continued in that matter. So how is it that I am penniless now? I see from your face that this question disturbs you, and I do not in any way wish to level an accusation, but you must admit it is a fair question to ask.”
He nodded soberly. “It is, although my wonder is not that you ask, but that you do not know the answer already.”
“It is my understanding that I have been left with nothing at all. Is that correct?”
“Your fortune has been much diminished, it is true, but it has not been extinguished entirely. There is enough for you to rebuild, if you are industrious. And there is no place better for making a name than the Inns of Court, and no profession more suited for amassing wealth than the law. My Lord Clarendon,” he said with a smile of contempt, “has demonstrated that beyond contention.”
“But the estate was sold, even though entailed. How could that be?”
“Because your father insisted on assigning it as guarantee for his debts.”
“He could not do that.”
“No. But I could.”
I stared at him as he admitted this, and he looked uncomfortable at feeling my gaze rest on him.
“I had no choice. Your father came to me and begged. He said it was my duty as a friend and a comrade to help him. Having tied up his lands so they could not be confiscated if he should come into misfortune, he discovered that he could not use them to raise money either. He absolutely insisted that I act on his behalf, and authorize the loan. All I was required to do was sign the papers.”
“And you did.”
“I did. And later discovered he had not played absolutely fair with me. Or with his creditors, for he had raised several loans at the same time, pledging the estate many times over. After the debacle, I found myself liable for the debts as trustee. Had I been a rich man myself, I perhaps could have assisted, but you know, I think, something of my situation. And, I must be frank, I was not in the humor to be generous at that time.”
“So the estate was dissolved.”
“No. Even so we did our best to keep it in your family. Your uncle bought it and I insisted on a clause that, should you ever be in a position to pay cash down, he would sell the land back to you. We also reached a settlement with the creditors; a generous settlement, I must say, for they accepted much less than they were owed; only some land was sold out of the family entire.”
“Including Harland Wyte, which will be the most valuable of all the land when it is drained. How come that was sold to the man who accused my father in the first place?”
Sir William looked surprised at the depth of my knowledge, and paused before he spoke again. “No,” he said after a short while. “Sir Samuel did not act with great generosity of spirit, I must say, but we had little choice. You must remember that the revelations about your father were initially known to only a very few people and it was imperative to keep it so. The moment his creditors heard a whiff of the matter, they would have swooped immediately. We needed time, and needed Morland to keep quiet. I regret to say that his consent was expensive. The sale of Harland Wyte at an advantageous price to him bought us eight weeks in which to act.”
I bowed my head in the greatest of sadness, for I did not doubt that he was telling me the absolute truth as he saw it. I was heartily glad of it; I had encountered so much duplicity in the past few months that I no longer expected to meet an honest man and, I fear, was overinclined to harbor suspicions. In his way Sir William was betrayed every bit as much as my father had been, for his goodness had been perverted to evil ends. I knew that sooner or later I would have to tell him so, lay bare the whole scandalous history and confront him with what he had done in all innocence and with the very best of intentions. It concerned me, for I was afraid it would break his heart. And I also knew that I, as much as those evil men, would have to stoke up the fires of his wrath so that he would fight to correct the injustices in which he had participated.
It was not to my advantage to pursue the conversation much further that night; I did not wish to seem overanxious and, in any case, I was desperately tired. Shortly after, then, I put on my cloak, picked up a candle and made my way from the warmth of the fire to the chamber I had always used. Presumably Sir William had roused out a servant when I arrived, for the room was already prepared for me; there was even a small fire burning in the grate, although it gave out more consolation than warmth. I shivered in that cramped little room, but nonetheless gave thanks as I knelt down to pray that I was not in one of the great, cavernous chambers more honored guests received. The Italian gentleman, I thought, would be suffering mightily that night. My devotions finished, and in that calm frame of mind which habitually comes over men of faith when they give thanks in true humility, I was in half a mind to wrap myself up as much as I could and get straight into the bed. But I was grimy from the journey and reluctantly decided to wipe my face first. A bowl of water had been placed on the chest by the great window and, after I had shuttered the casements tight, I cracked the thin layer of ice, then plunged my face into the bitterly cold water.
Then I received a rude reminder of the hydra-headed nature of my woes. Even after so many years I cannot bring myself to write down the obscene images that were conjured up in that bowl of water, illuminated solely by the flickering candle on the chest. The lubricious and foul torments presented to me were such that only the most devoted slave of Lucifer could have imagined them; to send them forth to anguish the soul of a Christian after prayer was an act of the most profound evil. The noises that reverberated through my head as I found myself leaning heavily over that bowl, desperate to tear away my eyes yet unable to move a single muscle, made me cry out with horror and terror. And yet (I confess) I was fascinated by the scenes I witnessed. Even the spirits of the pure and innocent were subjected to most violent depravity, and made to enjoy the abuse. I saw the image of my father—not he indeed, but a devil in his guise—stretched out as Sarah Blundy pleasured him in the most disgusting fashion imaginable. All sorts of demons cavorted lewdly in my sight, sure I was watching and relishing the torture they imposed. I could not speak, and could not move to take myself away from the foulness, because I was not prepared for it any more. I had grown weak, and believed that perhaps the assault was over, that perhaps the Blundy girl had relented, or given up her revenge. I now had all the evidence I needed that she had been merely preparing an ever more vicious attack. Nor, it seemed, did it involve only myself, if her diabolical master’s reach could torment those who should be beyond harm and impervious to pain.
It took the mightiest of efforts to tear myself away from that monstrous sight, to cast the bowl onto the floor and fling myself into the corner of the room, where I lay panting, unable to believe that it was all over. I lay there much of the night, I think, cowering in sheer terror lest it start again, and remained motionless until my limbs were stiff and my body icy with the cold. When I could stand it no more, and the pain overwhelmed my fear, I rose from my hiding place and spent some considerable time checking that the windows were firmly closed, and pulling the chest across the room so that the door was barred so tightly even the devil himself would have trouble gaining entry. Then I tried to sleep, afraid of the moment when the candle would finally gutter out. I had never been afraid of the dark before then. That night it terrified me.