An Anne Perry Christmas_ Two Holiday Novels - Anne Perry [70]
“Precisely,” Westwood agreed. “But it failed. The land went back to the Colgrave family, the only one left—Peter. Which was probably where it should have been all the time.”
“And Gower went to prison,” Henry concluded.
“Quite. It was a great deal of money he attempted to steal by fraud,” Westwood said gravely. “It could not go unpunished. The sentence was perfectly fair and appropriate.”
“So Ashton Gower lost his home and the fortune he had always assumed to be his. No wonder he was bitter.” Henry could imagine it, the young Gower growing up loving the land, riding on it, climbing the hills, feeling he belonged. Then suddenly he lost his father, and his inheritance, the whole nature of his identity and his place in the community was lost. Little wonder he was so angry he could barely think wisely. But it did not excuse dishonesty, and certainly it was not Judah's fault.
“Why did he blame Judah Dreghorn?” he said aloud.
“Ah!” Westwood steepled his fingers. “That is something I don't understand,” he admitted. “Gower completely lost control of himself. He ranted and raved at the judge, accusing him of corruption, even at the trial. And then afterwards, when Colgrave sold the estate very quickly, and Dreghorn bought it, Gower swore revenge on Dreghorn for having lied about the whole thing. He said the deeds were genuine, and Dreghorn knew it. Which was all patently ridiculous. But it was extremely ugly. Most distressing.”
“And now Judah is dead, in very odd circumstances.” Henry looked steadily at Westwood. “Do you believe Gower could be so bent on revenge that he would harm him?”
“Oh, dear.” Westwood shook his head a little, obviously distressed. “You are asking me a highly improper question, Mr. Rathbone. It is one I would prefer not to answer. In fact, I really feel that I cannot!” His eyes were very steady, sharp, and bright. His refusal was an answer in itself, and he looked at Henry long enough to make sure that he understood it as such.
“I see.” Henry nodded. “Yes, quite plainly. Do you know why Peter Colgrave did not wish to keep the estate?”
“He is another man about whom I prefer not to express an opinion.” He smiled very slightly and stared at Henry over the tops of his spectacles. “Don't press me into something that would be indiscreet, and might embarrass us both.”
Henry gave a half smile. “Thank you. At least I think I understand something of the actual issues, but not why Ashton Gower imagined he could get away with anything so stupid.”
“Arrogance,” Westwood said quietly. “I imagine he made the forgery in the heat of anger, perhaps when he discovered the original and realized what it would mean to him. Then he could not back out of it. But that is only my guess.”
Henry thanked him and went outside into the cold, already darkening afternoon.
hey met before dinner, a little later than usual. Mrs. Hardcastle had prepared a magnificent meal, and the whole house was decorated for Christmas with wreaths of holly, ivy, and pine. There were polished apples and baskets of nuts tied with gold ribbons.
Henry saw it with surprise, in view of the recent, terrible bereavement, and glanced uncertainly at Antonia, in case the servants should have done it without her permission.
She smiled back at him. “It's still Christmas,” she said very quietly. “We must not forget or ignore that. Without Christmas, there would be no hope. And I have to have hope: wild, unreasonable, against all the logic that man can have, things only God can do.”
“We all have to,” he agreed as they walked into the dining room side by side. “We'll definitely keep Christmas. Thank you.”
They took their places and the dishes were served one after another. They were ready for pudding when they finally approached the subject of their achievements during the day.
“I walked all the distances,” Benjamin said thoughtfully. “It's possible, but only if you don't hesitate at all. And there would be no time for Gower to