Barely noticing the passing of time, they soon arrived at the Sydney Morning Herald office where Serena asked for Mr Caleb Moncrief.
‘Please have a seat, Miss...?’
‘Bellingham. And this is Mr Bellingham, my father.’
‘Miss Bellingham. I shall see if Mr Moncrief is receiving visitors.’ The gentleman at the front desk made his way along a narrow and somewhat shadowy hallway, leaving Serena and her father to gaze at their surroundings. Several framed copies of the newspaper hung on the wall, along with a portrait of the founder. The smell of the printing press drifted to them from the back rooms, along with the sounds of men working.
Moments later, the gentleman returned with a nod. ‘Right this way, Mr Bellingham, Miss Bellingham.’
Still fuelled by the outrage that had stirred within her since she’d read Edward’s journal, Serena experienced no nervousness whatsoever. Very unlike her usual self. The man paused outside an office door and knocked for her. ‘Here you are.’
Serena straightened her skirts and gathered her thoughts. Upon hearing the ‘yes’ from within the office, Papa opened the door.
Mr Moncrief stood as they entered. ‘Mr Bellingham. Miss Bellingham. To what do I owe this pleasure?’ He seemed nervous in his greeting, but offered a polite bow.
Sitting in one of the two chairs opposite his desk, while Papa sat beside her, Serena got right to the point. ‘We’re here to discuss Mr Edward King.’
‘I see.’ A slight frown appeared on his brow as he reclaimed his seat.
‘A shameful thing has been done to him.’
A sigh left his lips. ‘Agreed.’ He picked up a pen and tapped it repeatedly on the desk in agitation.
‘Agreed?’ Thrown by this unexpected comment, Serena gaped at him. ‘But you are involved in this debacle.’
Mr Moncrief put the pen down, stood up and moved to close the door of the small office. Serena had to crane her neck around to see him. He turned to face her, leaning against the door. ‘Not as involved as you might assume.’ He pushed away from the door, opening his hands before him and returning to his seat. ‘Or, should I say, involved in a different way than you might assume.’
She did not know what to say. Puzzlement disoriented her. She had planned to come in and give Mr Moncrief the lecture of his life, but now, she wasn’t sure. ‘You did print that story about him, courtesy of my very own sister. Perhaps you should explain yourself.’
‘I will. But I must go back to the beginning if you will bear with me.’
Serena glanced at her father, whose face remained expressionless, then looked back at the man behind the desk. She studied him. Mr Moncrief seemed genuine, so she nodded.
‘Edward and I became great friends soon after he landed in Sydney. We were both nineteen then, but I had grown up in Sydney, so I helped him get used to his new home. We got along very well most of the time.’
‘Most of the time?’
‘I will presume you know what I mean when I say his, er, intelligence, frustrated me at times.’
Serena’s lips twitched. She did know and inclined her head in acknowledgement.
Mr Moncrief smiled at that. ‘I thought as much. You have experienced the same. But I always got over it. Ed’s other virtues outweighed his faults. Always.’
The tightness in Serena’s shoulders eased. This man cared for Edward. Had she been wrong about him from the beginning? Just as she had been wrong about Mrs Jones. And even Edward himself. ‘So, what happened?’
Mr Moncrief clasped his hands together, leaning forward in his chair. ‘When he was twenty-two, I noticed strange things in the way he acted at times. I had learnt from him the story of his father’s demise. I wanted to search for a way to help Ed, but his sister refused me. Mrs Jones wanted to keep his illness hidden and found her own ways to conceal and control it. Over time, I suspect she told him terrible lies about me. I know she told me things about him that weren’t true. At least, they didn’t sound true of Ed’s nature.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Such as Ed didn’t want to associate with me anymore. That he had come to his senses, whatever that means. I never really accepted that he had cut me off like that.’
‘And that’s why you came to Aleron that day?’
Mr Moncrief nodded. ‘I did that now and then, on the off chance I might catch him outside, or hoping things had changed within the walls. It’s been three years since I last spoke to Ed. He hasn’t tried to contact me, which is why I think Mrs Jones has turned him against me.’
‘But you published that damning article after one of my daughters contacted you,’ Papa interrupted. ‘Why would you do that?’
Mr Moncrief rubbed his stained hands over his face. ‘I am ashamed of myself. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that perhaps if I revealed the truth, it would break the hold Mrs Jones has over him, that Ed could get the help he needs. I was a fool. Now I’ve made things much worse.’
Serena swallowed. What a mess. He most definitely had made things much worse.
‘And then you called on the Magistrate.’
At that, Mr Moncrief sat up straight. ‘No.’ He shook his head with vehemence. ‘I had nothing to do with that.’
‘But you were there. You saw him.’
‘Yes. No. Not precisely.’
‘Mrs Jones said she sent you a message.’
‘No. She didn’t. I can only assume she sent it to the Magistrate.’
It made sense, sadly. Serena nodded. ‘The tragedy with her father made her overly fearful, and now it’s all become too much, I’m afraid. Did you know his sister managed to have him sign over control of his funds?’
Mr Moncrief’s face paled. ‘She didn’t! Now that takes the cake. I would wager she sent a message to the Magistrate in my name after she heard I was there that day, to cover her
