“Of course I see that.” The snap was gone from his voice. “I’m surprised you did.”
“You did not think me clever enough?”
“It’s not something most people would see.” Mr. Page’s scowl was puzzled this time. “I had come to the same conclusion, in fact.”
“Why?” Lily asked, not expecting him to share his thoughts with her.
To her surprise, he did. “The way he was shot. You can get an idea of how far away the shooter was. The general was shot by someone only a couple feet away.”
“About the distance of a desk?” Lily glanced at the piece of furniture in question.
Mr. Page followed her gaze. “Possibly.”
“Then whoever shot him was allowed to come very close.” Lily shivered. “It must have been someone he knew quite well. He either trusted his murderer very much, or he was sure that he had enough control over the man that he posed no threat.”
“A miscalculation on his part,” Mr. Page said. “Mrs. Adler, I think you have an idea. Are you going to share it?” At that moment, a jumble of voices in the hallway recalled them to their location. Lily glanced toward the door, and Mr. Page sighed, looking in the same direction. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
She made a face. “No, unfortunately. Which means I should probably not stay any longer. But …” She pulled a card and a stump of pencil out of her reticule and scribbled her direction. “Can you come by this evening?”
Mr. Page took the card and tucked it into the pocket of his blue coat. “I’ll be there at five o’clock. I assume you’ll be going out later?”
“Yes, doing the sort of things frivolous young widows with large portions tend to do,” Lily said, but there was far less acid in her tone than there would have been half an hour before. Mr. Page had the decency to flush.
The noise in the hall grew louder for a moment, and they could both hear Mr. Harper’s voice raised as he called for more wine. Mr. Page grimaced. “I hope you’re going to tell me that bounder killed his uncle for the money.”
“He did have a great number of debts, but it seems the general paid them without complaint.” Lily’s voice grew thoughtful. “Though he is unconcerned by his uncle’s death. Perhaps you should watch …” Mr. Page’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline, and this time it was Lily who blushed. “I apologize, sir. You’ve no need of me telling you how to do your work.”
“No, but I’ll be glad of any insights you have,” he said, relenting a little. “As I said, this is your world, Mrs. Adler, and its citizens do their best to keep me out of it.” Lily tried to think of a polite reply to such an uncomfortably true statement, but the Bow Street officer didn’t seem to need one; he was already peering out the door. “The way’s clear. I’ll make sure they stay in the other room long enough for you to get out the front door.” Looking far more of a gentleman than Lily expected, Mr. Page bowed. “Until five o’clock tonight.”
Lily waited for him to enter the parlor, then slipped out the front door to where Serena’s coachman was waiting around the corner as she had instructed. She allowed herself to be handed in, telling the relieved driver that he could take her home at last.
She did not notice the movement of the curtains at an upstairs window, or the shadowed face that watched her finally drive away.
CHAPTER 24
As soon as she was home, Lily penned two quick notes, informing her friends as much as she dared of the day’s discoveries.
It is time, she wrote, to lay this business to rest—now that I have the ear of Bow Street, I believe the end shall be achieved swiftly & Mr. Finch’s murderer at last brought to justice.
And then there was nothing to do but wait. It was half past two in the afternoon, hours still to go until the evening’s drama would unfold. Lily busied herself with catching up on correspondence, with discussing the week’s menus, with a volume of Miss Burney’s Cecilia, all in a useless attempt to keep her mind occupied.
As she waited, she found herself nervously watching the passage to the side door, the one her mysterious burglar—the burglar she was now sure had been Mr. Lacey—had fled through. Twice, she nearly summoned Anna to sit with her, and twice she made herself take deep breaths and settle back down. It was broad daylight, and there was no possible way the shipping agent knew what she had planned.
Still, she wished Mr. Page had offered to come earlier. Waiting had become her least favorite activity—especially, she thought as the hall clock chimed five, when the people she was waiting for were not punctual.
When the bell finally rang at five past five, Lily was at the front door only three steps behind Carstairs, quivering with nervous energy. Anyone who did not know her would have been hard-pressed to see it, but Jack noticed, and he frowned as he handed over his hat and gloves, the ledger tucked tightly under his arm.
He didn’t say anything, though, until they were settled into the drawing room. “Tell me.”
“The general is dead.”
“I know.” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “Jem brought your message. The family is trying to keep it quiet, but word is spreading. What does that mean for all our theories?”
“It means we have been looking at the wrong man.” Lily described her day, beginning with her confrontation with Mr. Lacey—Jack’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing—and ending with the odd understanding she and Mr. Page had reached. “He agreed to speak with us this evening, which is why I wanted you and Ofelia here. I shall be glad when this whole business is done.”
“I don’t wonder at it.” Jack’s jaw was tight as he rose to pace around the room. “And you swear you are all right? Lacey did nothing more than talk? I dislike you being here alone when he knows you took the ledger.” Jack frowned. “Though, come to that, how did he know about it in the first place? The general was clearly not taking those papers with permission.”
“Perhaps he meant the papers themselves?” Lily mused. “If he saw they were missing after you and Ofelia …” She shivered. “He said he knew about my connection to you both.”
“Either way, I cannot like it. Whatever he thinks you have, he might come after you.”
“He shan’t have the chance.” Lily’s voice was firm. “After tonight, both ledger and mystery will be in Mr. Page’s hands. And Hyrum Lacey, I hope, will be in Newgate on charges of murder.” In spite of herself, she shivered. “I cannot begin to describe how I felt when I heard news of the general’s death and realized I had been talking to the man that killed him. I nearly fainted on the steps of the Walters’ house.”
“You nearly fainted?” Miss Oswald had arrived and overheard the last words of their conversation. She laughed. “You? Mrs. Adler, I am shocked. I thought you were made of stronger stuff than that.”
“You shan’t laugh when I tell you why,” Lily said. Ofelia sobered as Lily related her confrontation with Mr. Lacey and the news of the general’s murder. “When Lacey cornered me, I could stand my ground because I was sure he hadn’t the backbone to actually harm me. We knew he was a criminal, but we were so sure it was the general who was the violent one. But now …”
“You think it was Lacey, then, who killed Finch?” Jack asked.
“It must have been,” Ofelia said. She had taken a seat while Lily paced and talked, and now her hands shook in her lap, though she was clearly trying to stay calm. “The general knew there was no need to take Augustus seriously, because once he went inside …” She shivered. “They could have planned, when they received Augustus’s threat, that Mr. Lacey would be there as well, just in case. And when the general left, he …” she swallowed. “He finished the job.”
“So what happens now?” Jack was watching them over steepled fingers. “Please do not say you intend to confront the man.”
Lily shook her head emphatically. “If I never have to go near him again, I will be content. No, Mr. Page has agreed to hear us out this evening. Once he knows what we have discovered, he should have enough to arrest Lacey. And since he is t
he only one tied to both Mr. Finch and the general—since he stood to lose so much from Mr. Finch’s threat of blackmail—”
“No jury will hesitate to convict him for murder as well as treason.” Jack shook his head admiringly. “I cannot believe you did it, Mrs. Adler.”
Lily shook her head. “We did it. I should have been lost without the two of you.”
“I doubt that, Mrs. Adler,” Ofelia said. “It might have taken you a little longer—”
“And Lord knows how you would have managed that business at Lacey and West by yourself,” Jack added.
“But you would have solved it.” Ofelia still looked shaken, but she nodded firmly. “You’d not have accepted anything less.”
“Well, I am glad I did not have to do it alone,” Lily said.
A knock at the front door stopped her from saying more, and in the silence they could hear the rumble of a male voice. There was a short pause, then footsteps that sounded very loud, before Carstairs swung open the drawing room door.
“Mr. Simon Page of Bow Street to see you, madam.”
Lily and her friends stood. “Thank you, Carstairs,” she said, glad that she sounded calmer than she felt. “If you would please pour for the gentlemen before you go. Mr. Page, would you care for something to drink?”
“Mrs. Adler.” The principal officer bowed very correctly. “Whiskey, thank you, if you have it.”
“She always does.” Jack’s tone was stiff, but he nodded politely enough to the other man, apparently ready to extend him the benefit of the doubt at last. Lily was grateful, since Mr. Page had already demonstrated his willingness to do the same for them. Jack glanced back at the butler. “The same for me, Carstairs, thank you.”
They all sat while the butler handed around drinks. Ofelia’s expression was strained as she watched Mr. Page; Lily, worried about the girl, gestured for Carstairs to pour her a glass of sherry before he withdrew.
Mr. Page, by contrast, looked far more at ease in an upper-class drawing room than Lily would have expected. He did not slouch or lounge in his chair, but sat upright and comfortable. It was confidence in his profession, she decided. He believed in his work and, by extension, his right to be there. Her estimation of him grew.
Mr. Page sipped his drink, grimaced with appreciation, and lifted his glass to her. “My thanks, Mrs. Adler. But I hope you don’t think to distract me.”
She was about to protest when she noticed the glimmer of humor in his expression; he was teasing her. For a moment that left her even more flustered than her indignation had, though she did not show it. “Merely attempting to make a difficult revelation a little more palatable.”
The constable set aside his glass and leaned forward. “So you hinted at the Harpers’ residence, ma’am. And I assume these two friends of yours”—his gaze took in Jack’s watchful posture without changing, though he looked surprised by Ofelia’s presence—“have something to say to the matter?”
“Captain Hartley you know already. And this is Miss Oswald—”
Mr. Page’s chin jerked in surprise. “Oswald?” he interrupted.
Lily paused. “Miss Ofelia Oswald. The two of you are not acquainted?”
“No, no.” The Bow Street officer cleared his throat. “My apologies for interrupting, ma’am. Please continue.”
Lily exchanged a look with Ofelia, who looked equally confused, and cleared her throat. “Miss Oswald has lately come from the West Indies—as did the murdered gentleman who was found in Lord and Lady Walter’s gardens two weeks ago.” Lily grimaced. It was still strange to have words like murdered gentleman leave her mouth so easily.
Mr. Page’s voice was gentle as he addressed Ofelia. “Your sweetheart, was he?”
“No.” She lifted her chin. “My affections are elsewhere engaged. And that was the trouble.” With admirable brevity, she explained how Augustus Finch had followed her to London without her knowledge before confronting her at the Walters’ ball.
“And how did you become aware of his presence that night?” Mr. Page pulled out a small memorandum book to make notes.
“I saw him through a window,” Ofelia said at last. “Of course, I knew he was not supposed to be there. I oughtn’t have gone out to speak with him, but I did not want him hanging about and ending up arrested for trespassing. Or …” She hesitated, then added, “Or saying anything about me that might be misconstrued if anyone had discovered him.”
“And what did you talk about when you went out to the garden?” Mr. Page’s pencil paused as he waited.
Ofelia hesitated again, and Lily leaned forward in her chair. Somehow, she had never thought to ask what Ofelia and Mr. Finch had discussed that night in the garden, and the realization surprised her.
Ofelia looked down at her hands. “He asked me to marry him. Again. I told him not to be absurd, that he knew I did not care for him in that way. I told him I had to return before someone noticed my absence, that he needed to leave before someone saw him lurking about. And then …”
“And then?” Lily prompted when the girl trailed off.
Ofelia scowled. “I tried to leave. He grabbed my arm to stop me and said all I cared for was catching a rich husband. And I slapped him.”
Mr. Page let out a surprised laugh. “Beg pardon. I shouldn’t laugh, I know, poor fellow being dead and all. And I can see you’re distressed, so I apologize. But good for you, girl.”
“I did not think it so well done when I saw a sketch of his face in the paper the next morning,” Ofelia said quietly.
“No, I imagine not.” Mr. Page nodded. “Is that how you left things? With a quarrel?”
His voice had sharpened again, and Lily felt a twinge of unease. But Ofelia shook her head. “No, thank heavens. We both apologized, and … then I left. I left him there, and I shall never forgive myself for it.”
“It was not your fault,” Lily said.
“And he didn’t tell you what he intended to do with the rest of his night?” Mr. Page asked. When Ofelia shook her head, he turned to Lily. “I suppose, Mrs. Adler, this is where your story comes in. Repeat it for me, if you will.” There was a hint of a smile on his face. “This time I promise not to interrupt.”
“How generous,” Lily murmured, unable to resist. Jack snorted. She laid out the facts of her involvement, beginning with the blackmail attempt she had overheard and continuing on through the investigating of her suspects, one by one. Mr. Page began by taking notes but eventually laid down his pencil and simply listened.
When she got to arranging for Jack to apply for work at Lacey and West, though, Mr. Page held up a hand. “I should like to hear this part from Captain Hartley, if you will, Captain?”
“Certainly.” Jack leaned back in his chair, grinning, and Lily fought the urge to roll her eyes. The navy captain told his part of the tale with a sailor’s flair for drama, making it sound far more harrowing than he had when trying to reassure her after the fact—though she suspected no more harrowing than the actual scrape had been.
“I’ll admit this is all fascinating,” Mr. Page said once Jack was done. “And it makes a damned good—beg pardon—a dashed good story. But you have yet to offer me proof, Mrs. Adler. And that is what the law requires.”
“When it chooses to require it,” Ofelia murmured. Mr. Page scowled, and Lily jumped in.
“Then you will be pleased, sir, that we do have some proof to offer. Captain?”
His expression more serious now, Jack handed Mr. Page the gray ledger. It was such an unassuming thing, Lily thought as she watched Mr. Page look through it. But so much rested on the information it contained.
Lily cleared her throat and continued. “Captain Hartley was going to bring that to a magistrate at Bow Street today. But when I heard of General Harper’s murder, I knew the situation had changed. And after …”
“After I caught you sneaking around their house, you knew you had to see me in person to convince me you were right?” Mr. Page finished dryly.
“Som
ething like that. And now you have seen our evidence, is there anything else you wish to know?”
“I wish to know how you came by these documents.” Mr. Page shook his head. “But it’s easy enough to say it was found in the general’s library.” He looked up at last. “I assume that was where it was found?”
“Quite possibly,” Lily agreed, the corners of her eyes crinkling with humor.
Mr. Page shook his head again, but this time he was smiling grimly. “Well, Mrs. Adler. I’ll admit to being impressed, both by what you’ve discovered and by your willingness to involve yourself in such a messy business.”
Lily could not help the edge to her voice. “A man was killed, sir. Someone needed to care.” With an apologetic glance at Ofelia, whose jaw was clenched very tightly, she amended her statement. “Someone who was in a position to do something about it needed to care.”
“Aye, you’ve the right of it there.” Mr. Page rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyeing her, before apparently making up his mind. “Very well then, ma’am, you’ve made what I have to do a good deal easier, and in exchange I’ll share with you what I’ve learned myself.”
Lily’s eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you said you could not investigate without putting your job in jeopardy.”
“And it was true enough,” Mr. Page agreed, though the tips of his ears had grown red with what she was shocked to realize was embarrassment. “But now I’ve been tasked with solving the murder of General Alfred Harper, and as you keep insisting, the two deaths are related. Besides which, such a masterful dressing down as you gave, ma’am, is enough to shame even the most cautious man into action.” That made Jack laugh, and the two men exchanged a wry glance that was, for the first time, full of genuine understanding. “Your young friend was correct,” Mr. Page continued, with a nod toward Ofelia. “The law is supposed to be concerned with truth and justice above all, but it does not always choose to be. And that’s not right.”
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