A Christmas Visitor by Anne Perry Page A

and pretension was swept away. The cold air stung his face, but his horse was a willing and agreeable animal, and there was a companionship in their journey. He thanked it with affection when he finally dismounted in the stable yard and went into the house.
    The evening was much more difficult. No one else had learned anything they felt to be of use. The whispers in the village were growing louder and each of them had heard remarks which at the best could be regarded as doubting, beginning to question whether Judah was actually as honest as he had seemed. Other cases were recalled where people had protestedtheir innocence, even though a jury had found them guilty. There was no direct accusation, nothing specific to deny or disprove, just an unpleasantness in the air.
    Henry said that he had been to Penrith. He did not want to make a secret of it or it might seem underhanded, and anyway the groom would know because of the horse. But he did not tell anyone why he had gone, or precisely where.
    They sat around the dinner table with another delicious meal. Mrs. Hardcastle had made one of the local delicacies for pudding—a dish known as rum nicky—made of rum, brown sugar, dried fruit, and Cumberland apples.
    Antonia spoke because it was her home and they were her guests. She would not allow them to sit uncomfortably in silence, but it was all trivia, little bits of news about sheep dog trials last summer, boat races on the lake, who had climbed which mountain, what weather to expect.
    Henry was aware of Ephraim one moment looking at Naomi, the next carefully avoiding her eyes.Whatever it was that he felt for her, she did not wish to acknowledge it, and yet Henry was absolutely certain that she knew.
    And all the time at the back of his mind was the fear that they would all have to be told the possibility that in some way, through misplaced trust, inattention, some kind of carelessness, Judah had made an error, and Gower was not guilty of forging the deeds, which must mean that someone else was.
    Who else profited? Peter Colgrave, that was obvious. Had anyone else thought they could buy the estate cheaply? Had anyone known of the Viking hoard, with its gold and silver coins, its jewelry and artifacts, not to mention its historic value? That was another thing to find out, if possible.
    But sitting at the table, seeing their faces, the tension, the anger, and the grief, he dared not approach it yet. But how long could he wait?
    After the meal was finished Antonia went upstairs to say good night to Joshua, and Henry knew from the evenings before that she would be gone for quite a long time, perhaps an hour or more. Joshuawas nine years old, still a child in his hurt and confusion, trying hard to earn the respect of his uncles, to behave like the man he thought they expected him to be.
    And he was also intelligent enough to know that they were protecting him from something else. Henry had seen his face as they changed the subject when he came in while they were speaking of Gower, or the village. They did not know children. They did not realize how much he heard, how quick he was to catch an evasion, a note of unintended patronage. He could see fear, even if he could not give it a name.
    Henry could remember how Oliver had constantly surprised him with his grasp of things Henry had assumed to be beyond him. He watched, he copied, he understood. Joshua Dreghorn was just as eager and as quick. Antonia knew that, and she was spending her time, and perhaps her emotions, with him.
    Henry invited Naomi to accompany him for a short walk in the starlit garden, which she accepted. He held her cloak for her, then put on his own coat, and led the way to the side door.
    “What is it?” she asked as soon as they were a couple of yards from the house. “Have you learned something?”
    There was no time to approach it obliquely. “I went to see a clerk in Judah’s office in Penrith,” he answered. “I asked him exactly where the deeds had