An Anne Perry Christmas_ Two Holiday Novels - Anne Perry [52]
“If it were as simple as that, I should not need your help,” Benjamin retorted. “You saw the original deeds that he is saying were genuine.”
Colgrave raised his eyebrows.
“Of course. They were so badly forged I don't know how anyone believed them for a moment, except that I suppose many of us are not familiar with such papers, and we are not in the habit of suspecting our neighbors of such a stupid crime.”
“But you would swear that they were forged?” Benjamin pressed.
“My dear fellow, I did! In court. Not that it rested on my testimony alone, of course. There was an expert from Kendal, came and also swore they were complete forgeries from beginning to end. We all knew that.” He waved his hand. “This will blow over, you know. No one with any sense at all believes Gower. The only ones who ever listen to him are newcomers. There are half a dozen families, one or two with money, I admit, who weren't here at the time, so they don't understand.”
“Who are they?” Benjamin asked.
“Leave it alone for a while,” Colgrave said soothingly. “I'll speak to them on your behalf, and tell them the truth of the thing. Go now, in hot blood, and you'll only make enemies of them. No one likes to be shown up for a fool, you know?”
“A fool?” Benjamin asked.
“Certainly, a fool. Who but a fool would believe a convicted forger like Ashton Gower? They'll learn the truth of him soon enough. Wait until he loses that foul temper of his with them! Or borrows a horse and brings it home lame, as he did with poor Bennion, or tries to borrow money we all know he'll never return. Then they'll wish they'd had more sense than to give him a moment's credence. As angry as you are, quite rightly, of course, you'll make enemies of them now.”
Henry disliked having to agree with Colgrave, but honesty gave him no choice. They excused themselves and left, but as soon as they were outside Benjamin turned around.
“Before we get the horses, I want to go to the churchyard.” He took a deep breath, his face bleak and half turned away. “I must see Judah's grave.”
“Of course,” Henry agreed. “So must I. Or would you rather be alone?”
Benjamin hesitated.
“I'll wait,” Henry said quickly. “I can go later. I'll fetch the horses, then we don't have to go back.”
Benjamin nodded, unwilling to commit himself to speech, but his gratitude was in his eyes.
Henry stood still for a moment or two, watching him walk slowly, crunching through the snow, until he reached the stone wall of the churchyard, and then was lost behind the yew branches.
He went back to the stable yard, and by the time he returned, Benjamin was waiting for him.
“I want to see Leighton, if he's still the doctor here,” he said, taking his horse from Henry and mounting. “If not him, then whoever is. I don't know how Judah could have been stupid enough to slip on the stepping-stones. He's lived here all his life. Where was he going, anyway? What was he doing crossing the stream alone at that time of night? Why did he go out at all?”
“I don't know,” Henry admitted, keeping the horses in step, side by side as they rode toward the village. “Are you sure it matters now?”
Benjamin looked at him sharply. “Of course it matters! It doesn't make any sense. There's something wrong, and I intend to get to the truth. Ashton Gower has to be silenced, and permanently. We can't let Antonia live in fear that he'll start up again.” He was angry with Henry for not understanding; it was clear in his face and the tone of his voice.
Grief and confusion were wounding him and Henry understood that. Still the response stung, and it was an effort to control his own reaction. He had liked Benjamin all the years he had known him, as much as he had liked Judah, and the sense of loss incurred was no stranger to him. It was many years since his wife had died, but the memory was still there.
It was still snowing very lightly but the wind had dropped. Fifteen minutes later they were at the doctor's house and the horses by the gate. It was another quarter of an hour before he was free to