Raven appeared to be mulling over her reply.
“In past investigations, we were up against a small group of individuals. This time, we’re facing a powerful institution with ties to the highest circles of government. The dangers are great. In fact, they’re terrifying.” She drew in a measured breath. “Or should be.”
“How can we help?” asked Hawk in a small voice.
“By accepting that there will be times, like tonight, when I will need to ask you to do as I say, even though you might not like it,” said Charlotte. She thought for a moment and allowed a small smile. “You saw Professor’s Sudler’s amazing Computing Engine before we left Wrexford’s estate. Well, with the number of our friends involved in this investigation, we are like the Engine, in that we have complicated parts which must all work together. If one piece comes unhinged, it can wreck all the others.”
Raven nodded solemnly. “Oiy, I see what you’re saying.”
She released an inward sigh of relief.
“But if you must go out alone,” he added, “you need to tell us where you’re going. In case . . .”
In case I don’t return.
“Fair enough,” said Charlotte.
“In fact,” piped up McClellan as she tapped a cooking spoon against her palm, “I suggest that for the time being, the house rule is none of us go out without the others knowing where we’re headed.”
“Agreed,” answered Charlotte.
“Agreed,” echoed the boys.
“Excellent,” murmured the maid. “I shall make a batch of ginger biscuits to seal the pledge.”
Charlotte rose. “I need to go to the docklands tonight and have a word with Annie Wright. I expect to be back before dawn.”
“The porridge should be ready by the time you’ve changed your plumage to become Magpie,” said McClellan. “One should never square off against the enemy on an empty stomach.”
* * *
The Great Fog, which had gripped the city since the beginning of the year, seemed to hang heavy over the deserted warehouses, despite the fitful breeze blowing in from the river. Slowing her steps, Charlotte moved cautiously through the gloom, searching for a glimmer of light in the surrounding darkness. Perhaps it was the talk of knives and murder that had her nerves on edge. A prickling of foreboding teased at the nape of her neck, and every little skitter and rattle from alleyways set her heart to thudding against her ribs.
At last, a creeping turn brought her down to the wharves, and she spotted the glow of the Ship’s Lantern up ahead.
Charlotte pushed through the tavern’s door and was immediately enveloped in the sweaty fugue of stale ale and unwashed bodies. A merchant ship must have sailed in on the earlier flood tide, for the taproom was packed with a raucous crowd of warrant officers, who were drinking, laughing . . . and groping at the passing serving wenches.
Slipping into a shadowed niche, she squinted through the haze of smoke, watching and waiting....
The minutes slid by, but with no sign of Annie Wright.
Charlotte waited until one of the kitchen girls cut toward the kitchen with a tray of empty mugs, and darted out to block her path.
“I’m looking for Annie,” she murmured.
The girl paused to rebalance her load. “Annie musta done a runner. She ain’t shown up fer work in three days.”
“Any idea where she might have gone?”
“Naw.” The girl scowled. “Why ye asking?”
“I’m a friend. It’s important that I find her.”
“Yeah?” A frown pinched the girl’s flushed face. “Annie suddenly seems te have friends crawling like rats outta the sewers.”
A frisson of alarm slithered down Charlotte’s spine. “Have there been others asking for her?”
The girl retreated a step. “Like I said, I dunno nuffink.” Charlotte muttered a thanks and turned away, but not before she saw the girl sidle over to the bar counter and exchange a hurried whisper with the man behind it.
Damnation. She ducked out into the night, cursing her own stupidity in letting Annie slip through her fingers without pressing her for answers regarding the murder. The barmaid had scarpered, and Charlotte didn’t need a mathematical Engine to compute the chances of finding her again.
They were virtually nil.
Overhead, the scrim of clouds had blown off to reveal a crescent moon, but the here-and-there glimmer of stars did little to lighten the skeins of vapor swirling in the alleyway. Charlotte turned up her coat collar to ward off the damp-fingered gusts. It was low tide, and the stench of decay deepened her sense of failure.
Mather, and now Annie . . .
Shallowing her breathing, she hesitated as the narrow passageway opened onto a lane leading over to Ratcliff Highway. Turning left would take her home, while turning right . . .
She decided there was nothing to lose by paying a call on Squid, her dockland informant. His tavern was a squalid hellhole, but despite his untidy habits, he was surprisingly observant and his information was usually accurate.
Her special knock drew a quick answer.
“Come in, Magpie. What shiny little baubles of dirt are ye seeking tonight?” A flash of yellowed teeth and a rumbled laugh at his own witticism. “Whatever yer seeking, I’m always happy te oblige.” He leered. “Including me.”
In no mood to banter, Charlotte stepped inside and jingled the purse in her pocket. “Annie Wright seems to have disappeared. Any idea of where she’s gone?”
The clink of coins brought Squid to full alert. “Oiy, I heard she’s scarpered.” He thought for a moment. “Kat thought she mitta seen her get into a hackney wiv a fancy cove, but she couldn’t say fer sure it was Annie. Ye want me te ask around?”
Could it have been Mather who had taken Annie away? she wondered.
“Ask Kat if she can describe the cove she saw,” replied Charlotte. “But do it very quietly. And don’t share the information with anyone else.”
Squid mimed locking his lips.
Preoccupied with her own brooding, she gave a wordless nod and turned to let herself out.
“Wait, I just remembered sommink!”
Charlotte looked around.
“Alice the Eel Girl stopped by here looking fer ye yesterday afternoon. Said te tell ye if I saw ye.” He grimaced. “But she wouldn’t tell me why.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a coin. Candlelight winked off the shiny metal as it spun through the air. “That’s because, like you, Alice knows on which side her bread is buttered.”
The door fell shut on his rusty chuckle, stirring a quiver of the thick fog. Swearing under her breath, Charlotte punched in frustration at the silvery vapor. Alice wouldn’t be at her post until after dawn.
Yet another precious few hours for the trail of Annie Wright to grow colder.
* * *
It appeared that Mather had indeed left Town, for he couldn’t be found at any of his usual haunts. Wrexford and Sheffield left a gaming hell off St. James’s Square known for its deep play—which might explain why the young banker was willing to sell Woodbridge and Peabody to the devil—and split up to try a few other possibilities. Sheffield headed to the stews of St. Giles, while Wrexford decided to check the cardroom at White’s.
But no luck. The only gamesters were a group of elderly members playing whist for a penny a point.
Frustration quickening his steps, the earl cut through the main reading room, where the crackling coals in the massive hearth cast a whisky-gold glow over the dark leather armchairs arrayed near the fire. They were empty, save for a lone figure studying the sheaf of papers in his lap.
Light winked off his spectacles as the gentleman looked up. “Ah, Wrexford.” A flick of his fingers indicated a bottle on the drinks table. “You appear in a hurry. Otherwise, I’d invite you to help me polish off a very fine port.”
The earl paused and pivoted. “There’s always time to savor the good things in life, Copley.”
“A sentiment not always a
ssociated with you,” said the baron as Wrexford took a seat beside him. “You’ve a reputation for having little patience, especially for those who can’t keep pace with your way of thinking.”
“True. I don’t suffer fools gladly,” he agreed, accepting a glass of the spirits from the baron. “But I like to think I appreciate excellence and creativity, no matter what form they take.”
Copley cocked a small salute. “Then let us drink to the times in which we live. There is much excellence and creativity taking shape around us. It is an exciting era, and one that will shape a very different world in the years to come, as old ways are eclipsed by new ones.”
Wrexford took a sip of his wine. “I, too, can’t help but remark that your sentiments might surprise many. As someone who runs a very large and profitable company that is facing changes to its way of doing business, I would expect you to favor old ways over new ones.”
“One must innovate—and sometimes improvise—if one wants to stay ahead of the competition. The world is going to change, whether we like it or not. I prefer not to be left in the dust.”
Copley clearly possessed a sharp intellect and an analytical mind unafraid of assessing challenging ideas. Which begged the question . . .
Is he too clever?
A chuffed laugh sounded in response to the earl’s silence. “Forgive my odd musings. I’ve been immersed in my papers for the past few hours, which has put me in a reflective mood.”
Catching a glimpse of numbers on the top page of the baron’s pile, Wrexford replied, “It can’t be easy trying to navigate through the new waters created by the Charter Act.”
A smile. “One must stay constantly alert to which way the winds are blowing.” The baron refilled his glass and offered the bottle to the earl.
He declined, and then replied, “Innovation and the ability to improvise are admirable traits. Unless, of course, they tempt one to bend the rules to stay ahead of the competition.”
Copley took a long swallow of his wine. “Are you still concerned about Henry Peabody’s murder?”
“No,” Wrexford answered. “It’s just that I heard a curious rumor recently about another past employee of the East India Company. Were you acquainted with a gentleman by the name of Fenwick Alston while you were in India?”
“Indeed. I worked with him in Calcutta.” Copley let out a mournful sigh. “He was extremely talented, but alas, he allowed greed to cloud his judgment.”
“So, the rumors of financial irregularities are true?”
“Yes. He began altering cargo manifests in order to take some of the goods to sell for himself. The discrepancies were discovered,” explained the baron. “Alston was allowed to quietly resign and leave the country. A public scandal was not in the interest of the Company or the family.”
“Have you any idea where Alston is now?”
“I haven’t a clue.” Copley made a face. “To be honest, it’s an incident I preferred to forget. I consider it a failing that I didn’t spot the problem sooner.”
“We all make mistakes,” said Wrexford. He fingered his empty glass, feeling even more unsettled.
Hero or villain? Or simply a clever man of business taking advantage of the opportunities in a changing world?
“Thank you for your candor. And for the excellent wine.” The earl rose. “I’ll leave you to your numbers. May they all add up correctly.”
CHAPTER 21
“You look fagged.” Hands fisted on his hips, Raven stood in the doorway of the kitchen, Hawk hovering just behind him. “We think we should come with you.”
Charlotte swallowed a mouthful of coffee, willing it to scald the muzziness from her head. It was early morning, and she had managed only an hour or two of sleep. Fatigue, she conceded, felt as if it had seeped right into the very marrow of her bones. Not a good sign when she needed her wits on full alert.
“He’s right,” agreed McClellan as she refilled Charlotte’s cup.
“I’m simply going to fetch a message from Alice the Eel Girl,” Charlotte replied.
“Which means you might need us to inform His Nibs of what it says,” countered Raven. “Or spread the word to our other friends to keep their peepers open for something havey-cavey.”
“It’s a sensible suggestion,” murmured McClellan
A plume of steam rose from the devil-dark brew. “It is,” she replied. So why it stirred a frisson of unease eluded her. But then, she clearly wasn’t thinking straight.
“Very well.” Charlotte quickly finished the last bite of her muffin and rose. The sooner she accomplished the task, the sooner she could crawl back under the covers for some blissful hours of sleep.
Outside, the fog still lingered, the dawn’s gossamer glow doing little to lighten the pewter-grey vapor cloaking the streets. She and the boys moved quickly, wraithlike shapes flitting dark on dark through the chill morning.
Through the windblown mist, the river gleamed like a ribbon of polished steel as they made their way down to the docklands. The loading areas were just coming to life, the rattle of barrows and the shouts of the stevedores twining with the groaning timbers and the thrumming rigging of the ships tied at the wharves.
Alice the Eel Girl was doing a brisk business selling her still-warm pasties to the workers. Charlotte waited for a pair of blacksmiths to make their purchases and drift away before approaching her.
“Oiy!” Alice’s eyes came alight. She shifted her tray and angled a little deeper into the shadows of the brick warehouse fronting the docks before going on. “A woman by the name o’ Annie gave me a message fer ye. I’m te tell ye she’s sorry, an’ that she expects ye’ll get the answer ye want soon enuff.”
Charlotte huffed in frustration. Damnation! What the devil did that mean? They didn’t have time to spin in circles.
Alice, however, still had the odd gleam in her eyes. “I figgered ye were expecting something more, so I waited a bit and then followed her.”
Oh, you clever, clever girl, thought Charlotte. “And did you discover her hidey-hole?”
The girl’s face fell. “Naw. Up near Ratcliff Highway, a fancy gennelmun stopped her, and after a bit o’ chin-wagging, she got in his carriage and they drove off.”
Mather. Who else could it be but Mather?
“He didn’t force her,” added Alice. “Looked te me like she wuz happy te go wiv him.”
Could it be that the barmaid had betrayed her childhood friend to his cousin? Annie was, by her own admission, struggling to survive in a world that gave no quarter to sentiment.
“Does that help?” asked the girl.
“Yes, it does,” answered Charlotte, all at once unsure of whether she could trust her own judgment, given how easily Annie had humbugged her.
Feeling a little light headed, she handed Alice another coin and looked around for the boys, who had darted off to greet their urchin friends who made a living along the waterfront.
“Confound it,” she muttered. They were nowhere to be seen.
The breeze had freshened, setting the signal flags on a nearby merchant ship to snapping in the swirling air. She gazed up at the dancing colors strung from the main halyard, noting the private ensign of the East India Company flying from the top of the mainmast. Sailors were already aloft, preparing the furled sails for the journey east. The tide was about to turn. No doubt, they would soon be casting off the mooring lines.
For an instant, the idea of simply sailing away from all the frightening conundrums teased at her consciousness. The vast ocean, Charlotte knew from experience, had a way of simplifying the world. It stripped away all artifice, leaving only the purely elemental forces of Nature.
Lifting her chin, she watched the clouds scud through the muddled sky, and found her momentary doubts flittering off into the gloom. Strangely enough, a simple world held no allure. It would mean leaving all she loved . . .
“Oiy, oiy!” The sounds of Raven and Hawk larking through one of the alleyways cut through her thoughts. As the boys broke f
ree of the shadows, they waved.
Hunching her shoulders, she let out a low whistle in reply, just another urchin intent on joining in with a raggle-taggle band of friends. It wasn’t until they were well away from the wharves and hidden in the confines of a narrow passageway between warehouses that Raven spun around and drew in a quick breath.
“M’lady, m’lady, we just saw one of the dastards! I’m sure of it!”
* * *
Sheffield accepted a cup of coffee from Tyler and slouched back in his seat. “Now what are we going to do? Mather was our only link to learning the identities of the ringleaders.”
“There’s never just one way to skin a snake,” replied Wrexford. “You forget that Lady Cordelia has seen the Cobra. And while she mentioned he swathed his face in black silk, she may have noticed other things about him that will prove useful.”
“Hmmm.” Sheffield puffed out his cheeks. “I see I have a great deal to learn about how to conduct clandestine investigations.”
“Don’t worry,” quipped Tyler, setting a plate heaped with breakfast on the side table by Sheffield’s armchair. “Your mind will soon be working along the same devious lines as ours.”
There was a momentary clatter of cutlery. “So, what do we do next?” asked Sheffield through a mouthful of shirred eggs.
“I suggest we leave the matter of the Cobra until this evening, when Lady Cordelia comes to work on the daily mathematical computations with the professor,” said Wrexford.
It had been decided that Sudler and his Engine should be kept hidden from the consortium, so they had been installed in a downstairs workroom of the earl’s townhouse, next to the kitchens. Cordelia and her brother had returned to their own residence. Given her experience in masquerading as a man, she slipped out each night after dark and made her way through the alleyways to the back gate of the earl’s garden.
“Speaking of which,” muttered Sheffield, “what if the dastards have Woodbridge’s townhouse under surveillance? Shouldn’t we worry about whether she’s being followed?”
“We’ve thought of that,” offered Tyler. “Raven and Hawk have their band of urchins keeping watch on whether there are predators on the prowl.”
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