The Bones in the Orchard by Patricia Rice

Author:Patricia Rice
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book View Cafe

After ascertaining where Paul kept the false register in the chapel, Hunt sent Ned down to see if it was still there. While he signed the correspondence Walker had prepared asking for the aid of someone with judicial experience, and petitioning to have Staffordshire annex the manor property, Hunt acknowledged Henri’s arrival. His younger cousin held a handful of papers and looked a little bleary-eyed. Henri preferred talking to paperwork.

“Have we found anyone to claim the impostor’s body or even identify him as a Blackstone?” Hunt asked, setting aside his pen.

“Arnaud and Deacon Jones searched the old Blackstone farmhouse. There is evidence someone has been staying there.” Henri shuffled through his papers and placed one in front of Hunt. “They found this. It appears to be a document from the navy concerning one Archibald Duncan Reid Blackstone.”

Hunt whistled, pulled out his monocle, and studied the paper. “I don’t believe the navy has ever spent much time researching sailors they impressed. He could have made that name up all on his own.”

“It gives date of birth as 1759 in Gravesyde Priory.” Henri slapped another paper on the desk. “Patience and I stayed up half the night searching for familiar names in the official church registry. We didn’t go back that far. I just asked her to look it up when I saw the navy paper, and she copied out the entry.”

Hunt read the bold scrawl. “Archibald Duncan Blackstone Junior, baptized son of Archibald Blackstone and Lilith Reid Blackstone, April 23, 1759.” He frowned. “The Reid is part of his mother’s name, not his.”

Henri shrugged. “He may have claimed through his mother’s line, but unless he has offspring, it’s little matter to us now. Then there’s this.”

He set a paper with a long list of entries on the desk and pointed at one. Archibald Duncan Blackstone, Jr. married Naomi Bergstein, November 13, 1778. “That’s while the earl was still alive and planting orchards.” Henri slumped back wearily.

“It doesn’t tell us anything,” Hunt warned, although his gut twisted in suspicion. “Has anyone found the bearded Bergstein fellow yet?”

“There are enough abandoned buildings that he could live in a different one every night. He could hunt rabbits, steal a few carrots and potatoes from gardens, and no one the wiser. But if he’s watching Patience and Arnaud in the orchard, we may need to patrol it with dogs. I’m supposed to be in Birmingham. I need to hit the road.”

“Go.” Hunt glanced down the list at the other familiar names. “I’ll ask around about the rest of this list.”

“I may not be back until tomorrow. Can you tie up the ladies so they don’t go anywhere until then?” Henri shoved up from the chair.

Hunt snorted. “Tell them you won’t bring back fabric for new gowns for their weddings unless they stay in the manor?”

Henri offered a faint smile. “I’ll blame it on you. I don’t want my head ripped off.”

As Henri departed, Hunt scanned down the list his cousin had apparently prepared using the register and Upton’s extortion notebook.

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