“Seems in order,” said Cowling. “What’s the issue?”
“There is reason to believe,” said Evers, “that this is an early version of Lady Enid’s will, and a more recent one may exist. With different beneficiaries. You’ll note,” he added, over Violet’s sound of outrage and Manning’s sudden paging through one of his books, “that both will and letter are dated several years ago.”
“Reason to believe?” said Manning. “What reason?”
“Conversations the deceased had with other family members,” said Evers. “Including the party I represent.”
“It’s Aunt Caroline, isn’t it? And after I—” Violet cast a look of hatred at Walter, but stopped talking. She’d made a generous gift of money to her aunt Caroline Blackwood and cousin Clarence, but she’d done it on the agreement that Clarence stop cooperating with Walter himself, who’d pressed Clarence into trying to wheedle information on the knife out of Violet.
“I am not here to provide full evidence at this time,” Evers went on. “Merely to establish an intent to challenge.”
“If you have no evidence to present today, then why was this hearing called?” Singh had a deep, fluid voice with a strong accent.
“Quite simple.” Evers cast a glance at Walter as if for reassurance. No wonder Violet was being so ornery; she was familiar enough with theatre to recognise that this was a piece of it, and Walter Courcey was its choreographer. The only question was what it was designed to achieve.
Evers went on, “I propose that Miss Debenham vacate the property known as Spinet House while her inheritance is under challenge.”
“There it is,” muttered Robin.
There it was. Manning, who was clearly getting the measure of his client, put a hand out to prevent Violet’s next angry outburst.
“Ridiculous,” said Manning. “You propose to kick her out onto the streets?”
“Miss Debenham is rich in friends,” said Walter silkily. He gave their crowded desk a pointed look. “I’m sure she will be offered hospitality while this matter is worked through.”
“More to the point,” said Evers, “it will allow a neutral party to search the house for a more recent will, if one exists. I’m sure you will agree that Miss Debenham can’t be trusted to locate it herself. It would be in her best interests to destroy it if found.”
Edwin looked almost sick as he stared at Walter. Even Jack’s stomach sank. He got to his feet and waited for silence.
“This is a farce,” said Jack, making firm eye contact with Prest. “Why would Lady Enid not have lodged her most recent will with her solicitors and asked them to destroy any previous versions?”
“It wasn’t with solicitors,” said Evers. “It was found in … a drawer of her desk, after her death.” He’d noticed the trap Jack had laid, but couldn’t do anything about it.
“A perfectly common practice with magical estates such as Spinet,” said Edwin promptly. “And the argument about recency stands either way. The house would provide the correct will.”
“What a busy legal team you have there, Miss Debenham,” said Walter. His voice sharpened. “Do you deny that you’re currently searching Spinet House for something?”
Manning looked perplexed, and this time didn’t manage to stop Violet. She snapped, “If you’re so keen to spy on us, then I think you also know by now how unfriendly Spinet can be.”
Jack had an unpleasant memory of the wardrobe in that upstairs room and the sound of tearing flesh.
Walter said, “Are you making threats, Miss Debenham?”
Disapproving looks from the panel. Violet had enough sense not to open her mouth again. And—
“This is all a bit pointless, isn’t it?” said Robin.
He had the ability to centre attention when he wanted to. He was standing, giving the panel one of his disarming, placating smiles. “Here’s how I see it. We know that the Magical Assembly gave their blessing to the search for the Last Contract. So either everyone here is fully aware of what we’re searching for in Spinet House, or you’re not, and Courcey’s relying on all these half lies and double meanings to make Miss Debenham look untrustworthy. When he’s the one who wants to use this contract to steal magic from everyone he can.”
What might have been a ringing silence was spoiled by Cowling breaking into a burst of dry coughs. Singh’s eyebrows had climbed closer to the edge of his turban.
“Well then,” said Violet.
Edwin was giving Robin a look as if he was speaking another language. Manning looked, understandably, extremely lost.
It was a bold move. It was a characteristic move; Robin was straightforward to a fault, and both he and his sister believed in dragging things out into the light. Jack just didn’t know if it was the right move for this situation.
“We are aware of this … proposed undertaking regarding the Last Contract,” said Prest stiffly. “I was not aware that word of it had spread.”
“It’s George Bastoke’s pet project,” said Robin. “And Mr. Courcey’s here, too. And I’ll wager they aren’t telling the Assembly exactly what they’ve been doing in the name of it.”
As if one or both of the names had been a signal, Walter cleared his throat and drifted back into the centre of the room. He didn’t look angry or ruffled.
“There’s no need for such dramatics,” said Walter. “As the Deputy Chief Minister pointed out, the search for the Last Contract was fully endorsed by the Assembly. It is a vital legacy of British magic, and it was wilfully stolen by a group of women who didn’t know what they were doing. Of course we are making every effort to recover it.” He looked right at Edwin. “Perhaps Sir Robert wasn’t going to mention that I had to interfere personally, when my brother tried to keep the coin of the contract for himself. And he still managed to inherit a magical estate for his efforts. Just as Miss Debenham here claims to have done. How convenient.”
Edwin had lost some colour under his brother’s direct gaze, and he didn’t have much to lose. This battle was turning the wrong way, as battles often did when two sides were working with different maps. Jack’s nerves knew it. His temples and the back of his neck were beginning to tighten.
A similar feeling had clearly struck Violet’s dicentis, whose composure cracked into outright panic. Manning scooped his books shakily into his arms and said, “I’m sorry, I—I don’t know—just wait—” and scurried towards the double doors.
“Manning,” Jack barked at his retreating back, but to no avail.
An incredulous smile crossed Walter Courcey’s face. The Assemblymen looked nonplussed. Evers looked like he’d prefer to follow Manning out of the room.
“Courcey,” said Cowling. “What on earth is going on?”
Walter sighed. “We do have reason to believe that Miss Debenham has inherited the knife of the Last Contract along with the rest of Lady Enid’s estate. If these objects can be considered private property at all.”
Edwin gave a small hiss of breath. Jack realised why as soon as Walter continued: