by C. J. Archer
"Thank you," I said, waving the paper to dry the ink.
"What are you going to do with the information?" he asked.
"I'm not yet sure. Matt isn't interested in bringing anyone to justice for it. He thinks the fellow deserved it."
"For once, he and I agree." He indicated the piece of paper. "I can go with you to interrogate them."
"It's quite all right. I'll take Matt."
"But you just said he's not interested."
"Not in bringing them to justice, but he'll accompany me to speak to these men once I tell him I'll go alone if he doesn't."
He chuckled. "You sound like Louisa. She always manages to get her way too. Sometimes I don't even realize until after I've agreed."
There was a knock on the door and a young man opened it. "There's someone looking for you, Mrs. Glass. She seems confused."
I shot to my feet and rushed out. I spotted Aunt Letitia immediately, sitting on a chair behind one of the desks, studying a caricature of the prime minister. Thank goodness she hadn't wandered off. If she'd found her way into the basement where the printing press operated… I shuddered. It didn't bare thinking about.
"Come with me. I'll take you home." I held out my hand, but she ignored it.
"In a moment. I'd like to look at these pictures. You're very talented," she said to the man hovering nearby. He beamed. He must be the artist. "Who is it?"
The artist's smile faded. "The prime minister," he said, rather stupidly.
"Oh no." She put down the sketch. "I take it back. You haven't got him right at all. Lord Palmerston doesn't have a beard."
The artist looked to me, his brows raised.
I sighed. "The current prime minister is Lord Salisbury," I told her as I assisted her to her feet. "Come along. There are no more calls for you to make today."
I informed Matt of his aunt's state as soon as he returned home. "She's resting," I said. "Polly is with her."
He frowned as he sat on the sofa beside me. "What were you doing at the Gazette?"
"Asking Oscar if he knew who was most likely to have set upon the author of those letters, if they learned the author's name."
"I see."
"You're cross with me for asking him."
"I'm not happy about it. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you'd forbid it, we'd argue, and I'll do anything to avoid an argument with you."
His gaze narrowed. "How can you be sure we won't argue now?"
"I'm not." I sidled closer and wrapped my arms around him. "But it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission."
His gaze narrowed further. "I like to think I'm a modern man, India. I don't forbid my wife anything, nor do I expect her to ask permission for something she deems unnecessary."
"So you don't mind. Oh good, I was worried." I let go and picked up my sewing. "There were only two magicians Oscar suspected were capable of beating someone up, although neither were recipients of the letters. I took the liberty of making a copy of their addresses for you earlier. It's on your desk. When shall we call on them?"
He didn't respond.
"Matt?" I asked, looking up.
He stared back. "What just happened?"
I smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips. "You agreed to call on the two men with me. When shall we go?"
"I, er…" He shook himself. "After we recover the coronet. One investigation at a time."
"Very well. How did your visit to Lord Rycroft's club go?"
"Quite well, although it took some convincing for my uncle to go along with the idea. In the end, it was Hope who convinced him to do it." Something in his tone implied there was more.
"Did she ask for something in return?" I prompted.
He shook his head. "Nothing like that. I took the opportunity to ask her if she had given any more thought to Coyle's proposal."
I set my sewing down on my lap. "Ah. I see. Now I know why you wanted to go there in the first place. You wanted a chance to convince her to marry him. Matt, I'm still not sure how I feel about pushing her in that direction."
"Well I'm sure I want her to agree and in the timeframe Coyle set, too. Call me selfish, but I don't see a problem. We all benefit if she accepts."
"But it's Lord Coyle!"
"I think the things we dislike about him are exactly what appeals to her."
"What do you mean?"
"When I brought the subject up, she said she's still considering his proposal. She didn't immediately say she would refuse him or that she thought him horrible. She actually had a gleam in her eye as she asked me how much I thought he was worth."
I pulled a face. "Why doesn't it surprise me that she wants to know his value?"
"When I was alone with my uncle in the carriage, I asked him if he thought they'd marry. The mention of it also brought a gleam to his eye." Matt smirked. "But he doesn't know her mind. Apparently Hope is keeping her cards close to her chest."
"You didn't tell either of them she must make up her mind soon, I hope. That's precisely the sort of thing that would irritate her. She could very well turn around and delay her decision out of spite."
He smiled slyly. "Give me some credit."
"So what did you learn about our suspects at Lord Rycroft's club?"
"Not much. Lord Farnsworth keeps a Nubian princess as a mistress in a separate apartment."
I wasn't sure what to make of that so waited for him to go on.
"The only thing I learned about the others is that no one at the club really knows them. Mr. Landers, the rich financier, belongs to a different club frequented by men of trade. A snide upturn of the lip tended to accompany that statement. My uncle's club is full of peers, not self-made men."
"And what about the widow, Mrs. Rotherhide?"
"Nothing," he said. "Hopefully Duke has found a way to gather more information."
We were just sitting down to dinner when Cyclops entered the dining room. Bristow set another place and Peter poured him a glass of wine. Cyclops rubbed his hands together and surveyed the platters with a hungry eye.
"How did you get on at Lord Farnsworth's residence?" Matt asked, passing him a plate of potatoes.
"You were right. Exotic women means dark women. All the maids are from India or Africa." Cyclops forked a potato and grinned at us. "Also, the lord needs a new coachman. I'm starting tomorrow."
"Good work. Any word on a collection of magical objects?"
"I didn't get the opportunity to ask, but I've seen where the butler keeps the keys. I should be able to borrow them."
"The artifacts could be kept at the mistress's apartment," I said.
"Mistress?"
"Who's got a mistress?" Willie asked as she sauntered in.
Bristow set her a place then discreetly left and closed the double doors.
"Lord Farnsworth keeps a Nubian princess at his beck and call," I told Willie and Cyclops. "She has her own rooms, paid by Farnsworth, somewhere in the city. It might be a good place to hide a stolen coronet."
"I'll find out where the apartment is," Cyclops said, helping himself to slices of beef.
"Who does this Farnsworth think he is?" Willie cried. "He ain't no king."
"He's a rich lord," Matt said with a shrug.
"You're a rich lord, and you don't go around holding women against their will."
"She's his mistress, not a prisoner. Besides, I'm not a lord yet."
"If she's held against her will, we'll see that she's freed," I assured Willie. "Tell us what you learned about Mr. and Mrs. Landers."
She piled oysters onto her plate then reached for the herring. "They're either arguing or giving each other the silent treatment, according to the maid I talked to. She's a silly woman."
"The maid?"
"Mrs. Landers. The maid reckons her mistress's only interests are shopping, gossiping and scolding Mr. Landers. It's the shopping that interested me most. The maid reckons Mrs. Landers buys lots of hats, dresses, ribbons and the like, but also knick knacks.
Some of the knick knacks end up on display—artwork, vases, decorative boxes. But the maid reckons a lot is never put out for others to see." Willie set down her knife and fork and regarded each of us in turn for dramatic effect.
"Go on," I said. "Where does the maid think those knick knacks are?"
"In a locked cabinet in the drawing room."
"The ideal place to show off to guests after dinner," Matt said. "They don't have to leave the room and the servants can't see what's inside."
"Only the butler has seen in the cabinet," Willie went on. "The maid reckons he won't reveal what's in it. He's real loyal to Mrs. Landers."
"Not Mr. Landers?"
She shook her head. "He was her family's first footman and got the butlering job when she married Mr. Landers and they moved into the Knightsbridge townhouse."
"How'd you find out all this?" Cyclops asked. "Flirting?"
"I paid the maid. She didn't need much convincing to betray her employers. She was real keen to tell me all the gossip she could think of. She ain't happy with her employment. She reckons being in service to the Landers is the worst job she's ever had. The butler's mean, the housekeeper's meaner, and Mr. Landers expects perfection. If there's even a smudge of ash on the hearth, he raises the roof with his temper."
"They sound like a charming couple," I said wryly.
"There's more," Willie said, her face glowing in the gaslight. She was certainly enjoying being the center of attention. "I asked the maid if she remembered if her master and mistress were home on the night of the theft. She reckons they were out, but she doesn't remember where or when they arrived home." She calmly cut through her beef, a small smile on her lips that grated on my nerves. "The maid thinks the butler went out after the servants went to bed. He was tired the next day, yawning all the time, and not noticing when things were out of place. The maid says that's not like him. Then she saw him sleeping in his office late in the afternoon. That's unheard of."
"It was him," Cyclops declared. "It must be. He stole the coronet for his mistress."
"Well done, Willie," Matt said. "All we have to do now is see inside that cabinet. It's likely the coronet is in there."
"Don't you dare suggest breaking in during the night, Matt," I said. "There are too many servants."
"Willie's maid could let me in," he said.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Willie got in first. "Not you, me. I'll go. She'll let me in, I reckon, for a price."
"That'll only put her in jeopardy," I told them. "The Landers will notice the coronet missing and will immediately suspect the servants if there's no sign of a break in."
"A very good point," Matt said.
"We shouldn't dismiss our other suspects yet anyway. Not even Whittaker. And we haven't heard from Duke."
Willie glanced at the door, but it didn't open.
"I'll continue to investigate Lord Farnsworth," Cyclops said. "I'll find out where the mistress lives."
"Catherine won't like it," Willie said in a sing-song voice.
"This ain't nothing to do with Catherine. Besides, she and I are…not together."
"Yet."
He stabbed a slice of beef and shot her a withering glare.
"I can definitely break into Whittaker's place," Matt said. "He only has a live-in housekeeper. Whittaker goes to work during the day, so all I have to do is wait for her to leave and pick the lock."
"What if the neighbors see?" I asked.
"I'll enter through the back door."
"Good plan," Willie said with a nod.
"And what about me?" I asked. "What shall I do while you're all finding ways into our suspects' houses?"
"Stay home and worry," Willie said. "You're real good at that."
A better idea began to form, but I needed to think about it more before I mentioned it.
Bristow entered and handed a note to Matt before retreating and closing the door.
"It's from Duke," Matt said, reading. "He says not to expect him tonight."
"At all?" Cyclops asked.
"Give me that." Willie snatched the note from Matt. "Huh. It ain't specific. I reckon it means don't expect him for dinner." She put the note down and pulled the plate of sliced beef closer. "More for us, eh, Cyclops?"
Cyclops and Matt exchanged glances. They both smiled.
Duke finally came home during breakfast the following morning. He greeted us with a smile and went straight for the sideboard. "I'm starving," he declared.
"Where've you been?" Willie asked. "Find a good poker game?"
"I was at Petronella's. That's Mrs. Rotherhide."
"The dried up old widow? Christ, Duke, I thought you had standards."
He chuckled as he poured coffee from the pot. "She ain't old or dry. She's early-thirties and a lot of fun." He leaned back against the sideboard and smiled into his cup.
Cyclops clapped him on the shoulder as he passed.
"You're lucky Letty ain't here," Willie said. "She'd be shocked. Look at India. She's as red as a radish."
"I am not," I declared. "Very little shocks me these days. Living with you has cured me of prudery."
Willie snorted.
Duke blushed but his smile didn't waver. He piled up his plate and sat beside me then tucked into his breakfast with relish.
Willie watched on. "You're just going to sit there and eat like you didn't just do something foolish?"
"Foolish?" Duke asked.
She threw her hands in the air. "She's a suspect. She could be a thief." She suddenly clicked her fingers and pointed at Duke. "That's why you did it. To get close to her and find out if she's got a magic collection and was out the night of the theft. Good work, Duke. I didn't think you had it in you to be deceptive like that. Not where women are concerned."
"I didn't spend the night with her to get information. She told me everything I needed to know before we…became better acquainted."
Willie sat back and stared at him. "Huh."
Duke grinned around a mouthful of sausage. Once he'd swallowed, he drank his coffee and cut up his bacon, all while Willie watched on with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. My sympathy was with her as my frustration mounted with every passing second.
"She does have a collection, it turns out," he finally said. "I pretended I was a traveling American interested in magic and I'd been given her name by an acquaintance who claimed she had some interesting things in her collection. I hinted that I'd like to see it, but she didn't take the hint. I also found out she was at home at the time of the theft, although she'd been out earlier."
"That doesn't mean she didn't hire someone to steal the coronet," Cyclops said.
"True. But I'm a good judge of character and I don't think she's a thief."
Willie rolled her eyes. "Course you'd say that."
"Why?" Duke asked.
"Because you ain't thinking. Not with your brain, anyway. She could be pulling the wool over your eyes."
Duke sighed and returned to his food. "Why would she do that? Petronella doesn't know I was looking for the coronet. We did talk about it. She wondered who the lord was who owned it and she reckons there'd be lots of collectors interested in it after reading that article."
"Including herself?" I asked.
He shook his head. "She says her late husband was the collector and she rarely looks at the things now. She didn't seem interested in the objects she already owns, let alone acquiring something new. I think we can take her off the list."
Matt, Cyclops and I agreed.
Willie struck the top off her boiled egg with a slash of her knife. "I reckon she needs further investigation."
"Fair enough." Duke winked at her. "I'll do it."
Willie rolled her eyes.
Cyclops finished his breakfast and left to take on his duties as Lord Farnsworth's coachman. The butler had told him there was no need to hurry as his lordship never rose before noon. He departed with a sack full of his belongings to make his temporary home above Farnsworth's
stables.
A short while later, Matt departed too with the intention of breaking into Sir Charles Whittaker's residence. He wore a dark suit and hat and packed his lock picking tools.
"What about us?" Willie asked. "What are we going to do?"
"I'm going to pay Mrs. Delancey a visit," I said. "You can stay home with Aunt Letitia. She had a turn yesterday so don't over-exert her."
She crossed her arms and kicked the leg of a chair. "I want to investigate."
I turned away but my conscience wouldn't let me walk away. I sighed. "You can call on Mrs. Delancey with me, if you like."
"I'll get my hat."
"Leave your gun at home," I called after her as she raced up the stairs.
I'd decided the best way to meet the Landers was to be officially introduced by a mutual acquaintance. Although I disliked asking Mrs. Delancey for a favor, I couldn't see any other way. She was delighted to receive me but looked upon Willie with an air of horrified curiosity.
"Mr. Glass's cousin, you say," she whispered to me as Willie sauntered around the drawing room, inspecting the objects, some of which I knew to be magical. "How…delightful. Oh, do put that down, Miss Johnson," she called out when Willie picked up the iron key Fabian had used to free himself from prison. "The cabinet maker is making a glass case for it, but it won't arrive for another week."
Willie tossed the key and caught it.
Mrs. Delancey reached her fingers into the air, as if she would catch it, despite being too far away. "If you could give it to me…"
Willie handed the key to Mrs. Delancey. Mrs. Delancey folded it in her fist and buried her fist in her skirts.
"You've got some nice things," Willie said, waving a hand at a tabletop crowded with statuettes of an Egyptian nature, a stuffed bird, a vase of flowers, three picture frames, a book and fan. "How many of these contain magic?"
"Quite a number," Mrs. Delancey said weakly. "Perhaps if you'd like to take a seat, Miss Johnson. Tea will soon arrive."
"I'll look around until it does."
"Mr. Glass's cousin, you say," Mrs. Delancey muttered again. "They're not at all alike."
I laughed. "Thank goodness."
Tea arrived and Willie finally sat, much to Mrs. Delancey's relief. "What a pleasant surprise this is, India. Our encounters seem to come out of the blue lately." She handed me a teacup. "Did you speak to Sir Charles about the stolen coronet? Not that he would know anything about it, of course. He's not a thief any more than I am." She laughed a tinkling laugh and sipped.
