Bonfire Night Read Free

fortnight only at each of the customary rent days. It has always been the custom at Thorncross for the master to accept the rents.”
    Plum perked up. “Brisbane, you’ll be a feudal landlord.”
    “Rents are due on quarter days,” I said, thinking aloud. “Michaelmas was last month, so we would not have to take possession until Christmas. That would give us two months to make arrangements.”
    Mr. Sanderson coughed gently. “It is the tradition in other places for rents to be paid upon quarter days,” he corrected. “It has always been the way at Thorncross for the rents to be paid upon cross-quarter days. In the old parlance, Candlemas in February, May Day, Lammas in August, and All Hallow’s Eve.”
    “All Hallow’s Eve! That’s in two days,” I protested.
    Mr. Sanderson gave me a lugubrious nod. “Indeed, my lady. Now you will understand my haste this evening. I am afraid the papers pertaining to this bequest were mislaid for a few days, and when they were unearthed, I discovered that Mr. Brisbane was in grave danger of losing his bequest unless he travels down to Thorncross at once.”
    “And what happens if I lose the bequest?” Brisbane inquired. “What if I refuse to go?”
    Mr. Sanderson blanched. “Unthinkable,” he said hoarsely.
    “Let us think about it anyway,” Brisbane prodded. “What would become of Thorncross?”
    Mr. Sanderson tugged at his collar. “It would be torn down.”
    “Torn down! Are you quite certain?” I asked.
    “I am afraid so, my lady,” he assured me. “Mr. Thornhill was quite specific upon the point. If Mr. Brisbane will not be master of Thorncross, no man shall.”
    * * *
    Mr. Sanderson departed some short time later, still visibly shaken by his errand, but looking much happier now that he had accomplished his business. Brisbane walked with him to the door, then closed it behind him, turning to face the three of us with a curious expression, very like a schoolmaster addressing rebellious pupils.
    “All right, you lot. Why were you tormenting that fellow?”
    Plum shrugged and pointed to Portia and myself. “Because they were, and it looked like fun. But I’ve no idea why they took against him.”
    Portia spread her hands. “Ask Julia. She’s the one who disliked him the moment he came in. I merely abetted her.”
    Brisbane lifted a brow at me, and I raised my chin in defiance. “He tried to get rid of us. It was rude. It was for you to say if your business was to be shared with us, and no man has the right to turn me out of my own rooms. If it was so dreadfully important and secret, he ought to have summoned you to
his
chambers.”
    Brisbane nodded slowly. “Quite right. So why didn’t he?”
    I blinked. “You agree with me?”
    Brisbane resumed his chair, stretching out his long legs towards the fire. “Entirely. I had no intention of seeing him alone since he came to our home. Private business ought to be conducted in a solicitor’s chambers. So why
didn’t
he summon me there? Or write ahead to request an appointment? Instead he calls after dinner when he had every expectation we might be entertaining, behaving furtively and giving us that ridiculous story of a legacy from a grateful client.”
    “You don’t believe it then?” Portia asked.
    Brisbane ignored her and cocked his head at me. “Do you?”
    I thought a moment. “No. Although I can’t imagine why. It seems plausible enough. But everything about the man was just slightly off somehow. Call it intuition, but I don’t believe him.”
    “Neither do I,” he said firmly.
    “You’re a damnably suspicious pair,” Plum said, helping himself to a rose water biscuit. “It is possible that some generous old fellow was sincerely grateful for your aid, Brisbane. You have rescued any number of perilous situations from disaster.”
    “Yes, but I am more often responsible for putting people in gaol than keeping them out of it,” Brisbane retorted.
    “Can you think of a case where you might