The thought of sitting amongst the heather, of paddling her feet in the burn, seemed so appealing. Tears welled. Sad, that her heart would always belong to the man who might have been her husband.
“Then let us solve these clues, Buchanan, so you can take me home.”
“Aye, lass.”
An awkward silence ensued, made more difficult as she battled her emotions.
“Don’t think for one moment you’re safe now.” The lawyer’s grave comment cut through the stillness. “You must take every precaution. Greed lives in the hearts of men. Find the treasure and then return to me in Long Lane.”
“And why should we trust a word you say?” Evan said bluntly. “Your nephew spends a lot of time at the Old Red Crow, and not just to fill himself with ale. Why not call him in and ask him about his relationship with Bonnie?”
“Because he’s three sheets to the wind and of no use to anyone. But he visits Bonnie to drown his sorrows. Who am I to deny his quest for peace?”
The comment must have resonated because Evan paused for thought.
“Mr Ramsey is an old family friend who knew my father.” The mere mention of the man made Vivienne’s skin crawl. “He also visits Bonnie, and pesters me weekly, insinuating my life would greatly improve if I were his wife. His debts are mounting, as is his need to find the means to pay. Now tell me that is a coincidence, Mr Golding.”
Mr Golding’s chin dropped. He gripped the arms of the chair with his bony fingers and pushed to his feet. “Excuse me a moment while I discuss this with my nephew.”
The second the lawyer left the room Buchanan spouted threats.
“I swear I shall string Ramsey up from the scaffold and let the crows poke at his flabby flesh. Did I nae tell ye, lass, to stop inviting the lech into yer home? And as for that drunken devil upstairs, why I’ll shove his head in a whisky cask and wait till there are nae more bubbles.”
Evan Sloane seemed disinterested in Buchanan’s ramblings. “Miss Hart.” His intense gaze pinned her to the chair. “When I described this unfolding nightmare, I spoke of our frustration. My comment in no way reflected the nature of our relationship.”
Did he have to speak so openly in front of Buchanan? Yes, the man knew they were supposed to marry, but knew nothing of their amorous liaisons.
“Pay it no mind, Mr Sloane. You were right. Mr Golding and his nephew have pushed us to the limits of our patience.”
As if on cue, the shouting started above stairs. She hoped Mr Wicks had stumbled whilst in a drunken stupor, and the loud bang was not him assaulting his uncle.
Evan glanced at the ceiling. “Perhaps I should intervene.”
“It might be prudent.”
Evan pushed to his feet, but the slow plod of footsteps on the stairs made him hesitate.
Flustered, Mr Golding hobbled back into the room. “It seems this Ramsey fellow knows you’ve been to visit me numerous times and has asked Bonnie to probe my nephew for information. He swears he’s told her nothing about the contract or the delicate nature of our business.”
“Bonnie’s a rum old lass. I can tell ye that.” Buchanan grinned. “Aye, she’d have told me anything I needed to know in exchange for a few shillings and my company this evening.”
Mr Wicks was hardly discreet in his drunkenness. Drunken fools had loose tongues. No doubt Bonnie extracted enough information to please Mr Ramsey. After all, Mr Ramsey was the one bringing gifts.
“We must assume Wicks was too inebriated to recall the conversation,” Evan said, coming to the obvious conclusion. “I caution you against telling your nephew anything about our business in future.”
Mr Golding’s shoulders sagged. “I’m tired, Mr Sloane, weary, and seek a quick end to this matter. There’s little more for me to do or say. I suggest you attempt to find your legacy with the clues given. When you do, return to me in Long Lane, and I shall read the last entries in the notebook.”
The lawyer was scared. Fear clung to him like a starving urchin. She had seen it that day in his office, and it gripped him now. He’d manipulated events because he wanted this business done quickly.
“You’re hiding here,” she blurted. “It’s not just about the instructions in the notebook. You’re frightened. You believe someone has discovered you have knowledge of the clues, and now you know that man is Mr Ramsey.”
“Money is the devil’s currency, Miss Hart. It makes good men do wicked things. If this Mr Ramsey knows of my involvement, I suspect he will come knocking.”
“Perhaps you should remove to Keel Hall until this is all over,” Evan suggested.
“There’s no need.” Mr Golding lowered his voice. “Should anything untoward happen, you must visit the optician.” He paused and caught his breath. “We should part now. The rest is up to you.”
They left the house wiser than when they entered.