If those bees attack my uncle one more time, the old keeper will be dragged away in chains for treason, my cousin whispered as we stood on the portico of Elmwood Manor.
The sight of Ebenezer, broken and weeping on the gravel path, filled me with a cold fury. I couldn’t stand by and watch this injustice.
“Uncle Julian!” I called out, my voice sharp. “This is outrageous! General Montgomery would never approve of such an act.”
He turned, his smile still fixed, but now edged with a dangerous chill. “My brother’s affairs are mine to manage, Clara. His health is delicate.”
Major Pryce nodded curtly. “The General’s medical affidavit confirms his incapacitation. His estate management has been legally transferred to his brother, Julian Montgomery.”
I strode towards the portico, confronting Julian directly. “This is not about health. This is about your cruel vendetta against an innocent man and his bees.”
Julian merely raised an eyebrow, unaffected. “This is about protecting Union soldiers from potential sabotage. And about legitimate property transfers.”
He turned and disappeared into the library, beckoning me to follow with a dismissive flick of his hand. I hesitated, then pushed past the provost guards, my blood boiling.
The library was dim, filled with the scent of old leather and dust. Julian stood by a large mahogany desk, sifting through a stack of documents.
“You accuse me of impropriety, Clara?” he said, without looking up. “Perhaps you should understand the full extent of my entitlements.”
He pulled a heavy, sealed parchment from the stack and smoothed it across the desk. “This, Nurse Albright, is a certified probate document, drafted and signed in Richmond two months ago.”
My eyes scanned the elegant script. It detailed the full transfer of Elmwood Manor.
“Upon General Silas Montgomery’s death,” Julian read aloud, his voice low and deliberate, “full title of the Elmwood estate, including all 400 acres of timber and arable land, along with an $18,500 Union Army timber grant, shall pass immediately and irrevocably to Julian Montgomery.”
My breath caught in my throat. $18,500. A staggering sum. And the timber grant was likely why Pryce was involved, explaining his eagerness to comply.
“The General’s will was quite explicit,” Julian continued, tapping the document. “He trusts me to manage his assets, even in his final days.”
He leaned closer, his eyes glinting. “So you see, Clara, your friend Ebenezer and his ‘biological hazard’ are merely an inconvenience to my legitimate inheritance. An inconvenience I intend to remove.”
The sheer audacity of it left me speechless. He wasn’t just trying to get rid of Ebenezer; he was seizing the entire estate, poisoning his own brother to do it.
I couldn’t fight this with just my word. This was military bureaucracy, backed by fraudulent legal maneuvers. I needed proof. I needed someone who understood toxicology, who could fight paper with paper.
As Julian turned to speak with Major Pryce, who had followed me into the library, I saw my chance.
On the desk, tucked behind a pile of ledgers, was a discarded teacup, its bottom stained with a small amount of dark, greyish residue. It was a cup I recognized from Silas’s quarters.
My hands trembled slightly as I palmed the cup, slipping it under my apron. No one noticed.
I left the library, my mind racing. I couldn’t challenge military paperwork alone. I needed an expert.
I packed a sample of the tea dregs into a small glass vial, securing it in my medical satchel. The 1:15 PM supply train to Alexandria. It was my only hope.
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