My Husband Divorced Me While I Was Unconscious After Giving Birth to Triplets — Then My Brother Uncovered His Fraud at the Town Assembly
The Oakhaven Tavern buzzed with the usual Friday evening chatter. Tankards clinked, laughter erupted, and the smell of roasted meat mingled with pipe smoke.
Gideon Hallowell sat hunched in a shadowed corner booth, nursing a single ale. He wasn’t there for companionship. He was listening.
His eyes were fixed on Master Thaddeus Crane, the senior parish clerk, who held court at the main table. Crane, a portly man with a florid face, was already well into his cups, boasting loudly about his indispensable role in Oakhaven’s legal affairs.
“And who do you think prepared all the paperwork for young Vanderberg?” Crane slurred, tapping a finger against his temple. “For the Hallowell estate, I mean. All the proper forms, signed and sealed!”
A murmur went through the small group of farmers and merchants gathered around him. Everyone knew the recent whispers about Gabriel, about Clara’s “unfitness” and the tragic loss of her infant.
Crane leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice, but not enough. “A delicate matter, you understand. A wife’s… condition. But the power of attorney, that was all above board. Witnessed by old Tobias Finch himself, God rest his soul.”
Gideon’s muscles tensed. He took a slow sip of his ale, not daring to move.
“Tobias was a good man,” one of the farmers said, nodding. “Always thorough.”
Crane scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Thorough, yes. But a bit slow in his old age, eh? Took him a moment to get the quill just right. October 14th, 1781, it was. I remember clearly, because it was the day before my nephew’s pig won the blue ribbon at the harvest fair!”
A wave of laughter followed this pronouncement.
Gideon froze, the ale forgotten in his hand. October 14th, 1781. The date echoed in his mind, sharp and impossible.
His mind raced, sifting through memories. He’d helped carry Tobias Finch’s coffin. He’d seen the fresh earth mounded over the grave in the churchyard. It hadn’t been in October.
He felt a cold certainty blossom in his chest. Master Crane, in his drunken carelessness, had just offered a critical piece of information. A grave error on Gabriel’s part, exposed by a loose tongue.
Gideon slowly set down his tankard, his eyes still fixed on the oblivious clerk. The tavern’s noise faded into a dull drone. His sister, isolated and grieving, was being openly slandered. But now, there was a path forward.
He needed to confirm it. He needed the parish records. And he needed them without anyone in Oakhaven knowing what he was truly looking for.
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