Clayton Avery had known nothing of Victoria’s involvement with Prescott; he had not even been aware that she found the Jefferson copy of the Declaration of Independence for Prescott since he swore her to secrecy. Then the day of the feijoada Prescott had made it clear he thought she was wrong for Clay. Victoria had visited him in the wine cellar after I left, furious because she believed Prescott owed her in more ways than one. She claimed she didn’t mean to kill him, but once he fell and hit his head, she realized the blow was fatal. So she left by the back entrance, rejoining Clay who hadn’t been aware that she’d been downstairs with Prescott.

Clay was the last to arrive at the Red Fox Inn. He came with Scotty and Alex, who, for once, stood on either side of their father as if they were giving him not only physical support but also badly needed emotional support. I thought he looked awful, still devastated by the knowledge he’d welcomed a viper into the midst of his family, and that his adoring fiancée had been his stepfather’s killer. The rest of the Averys had come separately, including Celia and Jack who, I was glad to see, were welcomed and greeted by the others.

“Maybe there’s hope for that family,” I said under my breath to Quinn.

“I heard Clay is talking to his lawyers about restructuring the Caritas Commitment so they can hang on to the Trib. They want to keep Hawthorne intact for now, but they’ll sell the other homes and donate the art and jewelry and furniture as Prescott and Rose wanted,” he said.

“Well,” Kit said as she came up behind the two of us. “Here we are. I guess all’s well that ends well.”

“Wrong play,” I said and she grinned.

“Lord, what fools these mortals be?”

“Quit while you’re ahead.”

She laughed. “Seriously, you’ve assembled quite a crowd, Luce. I just finished talking to Tana Rossi and the historians from Colonial Williamsburg and Jamestown. Plus I did some research at the Balch Library in Leesburg and found a death record for Hobson Banks. He died in August 1814. The date of death had a question mark beside it but it must have been soon enough after he hid his package here that he never came back to retrieve it.”

“If he left it here,” I said. “I’m nervous as hell. I could be wrong. Or it could be some piece of White House china that Dolley Madison especially loved.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Kit said. “I bet you’re right.”

“Where’s Grant?” I asked her. “He was invited to this.”