by Joan Smith
After mulling all this over for a moment, Abbie could find no inconsistency in the tale, “Were you not afraid he’d rob you?” she asked.
“I knew he would try. He’s in the house every chance he gets, seeing what is worth taking, and how best to get at it. I told him I am off to London next week, to give him the impression he would have easy pickings here. And when he comes back this time, we’ll be ready for him, day or night. Bow Street is watching him like a hawk.” Penfel stopped, frowned, and sighed. “Not that he’ll try anything now. The man is no fool. He’ll disappear. O’Reilly’s or Rooney’s or McCoon’s Circus will be born in some distant county, and it will start all over again.”
“What of the things he steals? Can they not be traced back to him?”
“Eventually, perhaps. He farms them out to Stop Hole Abbey. Buyers of stolen goods at bargain prices are not likely to report where they got them.”
“Well, you might have told me all this sooner!”
“I didn’t want you involved. If Mama had told me she was inviting a parcel of schoolgirls here, I would have put the visit off. You were already here when I arrived. Short of sending you packing, what could I do?”
“I would be very happy to leave! Unfortunately, I cannot take the girls back to Miss Slatkin’s. The school is closed for the week. Perhaps I could take them to my uncle’s house in Maidstone. He is in London.”
“It is not necessary now,” Penfel said grimly. “O’Leary knows I know. How did you come to call on me, when I asked John to tell you not to come to my office?”
“Lord John said nothing to me. It was Singleton. He muttered something. I thought he was telling me to go to your study, as we had arranged earlier.”
“I wish someone would teach that man to speak.”
“What do you think O’Leary will do?” she asked.
“He’ll have his revenge eventually. A few months from now, when I have forgotten all about it, I shall come home and find the silver gone and the gallery rifled. He’ll watch his p’s and q’s for the present.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. But her sorrow was mitigated by the knowledge that Penfel was not a criminal. She looked at him uncertainly, wondering how much of his anger was directed at her, and how much at O’Leary.
“It’s not your fault,” he admitted. “Did you really contact Farber? How the deuce did you know he was a Runner? It was supposed to be a secret.”
“Farber? Oh, is that the man you met this afternoon when you let on you were going to meet a friend?”
“That’s him. If you didn’t know—But of course, you were following the villain. Me.”
“I was not! I didn’t think of it. It was Kate who saw you. She mentioned it to me. I only told you I had contacted Bow Street in case you—you meant to murder me,” she said, and suddenly felt extremely foolish.
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “I shan’t say I didn’t feel like it. Damnation. I wonder what O’Leary will do now. He won’t take this sitting down.”
“What did he say after I left?”
“We played a game of charades. I pretended not to know what you were talking about, and he pretended to believe me. If your announcement that I knew he was Brannigan did not give it away, the emerald ring did. Fortunately, he didn’t actually see it. After you left, I described it as a quite different sort of emerald ring to O’Leary. I ought to go see if Sadie is all right. He’ll be furious that she let me take it. In fact, I’ll give it back to her. If she can show it to him, he might believe that the ring you saw really was a different one.” He studied Abbie a moment and added offhandedly, “By the by, the ring is the only thing I wanted or got from Sadie.”
Something in the way he looked at her belied his offhanded manner and made her blush. “I told you, you don’t have to explain to me,” she said, feeling foolish as she had come to his office to demand an explanation.
Penfel didn’t seem to notice the inconsistency, however. “Yes, I do,” he said. “I don’t want you to think me a lecher. A thief and a murderer are bad enough, but you have already informed me lechery tops the interdict list, where ladies are concerned. What will you do while I am gone? Would you care to look at the cartoons?”
It seemed an unlikely moment for him to make this suggestion, when things were so confused. She soon figured out that he just wanted to keep her busy, so she would not further complicate his work.
“Where do you really keep them? I know they are not in the Manuscript Room. I have been there with your mama.”
“I have them locked away. I’ll show you.”
“Later. I am not in the mood to appreciate them just now.”
He nodded. “Don’t leave the house, Abbie. O’Leary might decide to wreak some revenge on you.”
“Could you not have Farber arrest him?”
“He could be arrested on suspicion, but his lawyer would soon have him out. We need evidence to get a conviction.” He unlocked the top drawer of his desk and drew out the emerald ring.
“Is that not evidence?” she asked.
“Just one item is not enough. How could we prove he didn’t win it in a card game, as he claims?”
As he spoke, there was a sharp rap at the door. Abbie’s heart jumped into her throat. “O’Leary!” she whispered.
“Stay here,” he said, and put the ring in his pocket. “There’s a loaded pistol in that top right-hand drawer, if you should need it.” He went to the door, opened it, and stepped into the hall.
Abbie, her heart thumping like a wild thing, went to the drawer and took out the pistol. It felt heavy, deadly. Surely, O’Leary would not try to kill Penfel in his own house? She tiptoed to the door and put her ear to it. The voice on the other side was not O’Leary’s Irish lilt. It was a rough, common voice.
“Nary a sign of her,” it said grimly.
Abbie opened the door and peeked out.
Penfel turned and stared at her with eyes that looked black. “Susan is gone,” he said.
She stared in confusion. “What do you mean, gone? She went to the circus with your mama and the others.”
“She isn’t with them. They were all watching the show. It seems no one noticed her leaving. The youngsters went to buy lemonade. Everyone thought she was with someone else. John thought Susan was with Singleton and Miss Kirby, and vice versa. When they returned, they learned Mama thought she was with the youngsters. She has vanished. O’Leary is gone as well.”
“Good God! Could Spadger be right?”
“Who is Spadger?” Penfel asked in confusion, as he had not met that good woman.
“She said Susan had a billet doux. I made sure it was only that letter from her mama.”
“Susan would never go voluntarily to meet O’Leary,” Penfel said at once. “She holds herself too high.”
“She’s been talking to him a few times, though.”
Farber spoke up. “I figured O’Leary was accounted for as there were lamps burning in his wagon, but when one of the workers went and tapped at his door, there was no answer. I went in and looked about as soon as the man had left. O’Leary was gone—packed up his personal belongings and sneaked out the back way. My fear is that he’s kidnapped Lady Susan.”
Abbie read an accusation in the grim lines of Penfel’s mouth and glinting eyes: “This is what your demmed interference has caused.”
What he actually said, in a high, bewildered voice, was “I’m ruined. A duke’s daughter, under my protection, kidnapped from my house.”
“It’s not your fault, Penfel. I was in charge of her!” Abbie said.
Farber spoke again, with aplomb and assurance. “You can parcel out the blame later, folks. Whoever is at fault, we had best get busy and find her, before some harm befalls the poor girl.”
Chapter Fourteen
While Lady Susan had displayed some interest in O’Leary, Abbie could not believe she would be involved in anything so déclassé as a runaway match with a fortune hunter, and she had pegged h
im as one from the start. Such folly was not her style. She would want a noble husband, with all the pomp and nobility and royalty the duke could summon to attend her nuptials. If she was with O’Leary, she was there under duress, and she must be rescued at once.
Abovestairs, Spadger assured Abbie that Lady Susan had not returned to her room. Her clothing and personal items were all there, as she had left them. Her pearls with the diamond pendant were in her jewelry box. Of the letter, possibly a billet doux, there was no sign.
Servants were sent scrambling through the house to make sure she was not in the library, the morning parlor, or any of the small parlors. Footmen searched the grounds and stable, to determine that no horses or carriages were missing. When Abbie returned belowstairs, Sifton told her his lordship and Farber had gone to the circus grounds.
“I shall join them,” she said, and darted abovestairs for her bonnet and pelisse.
A footman was waiting with the butler in the entrance hall when she returned.
“Before he left, his lordship informed me Quilp was to accompany you if you insisted on going, ma’am,” Sifton said. She ignored his disapproving face and the derogatory emphasis on “insisted.”
Quilp was a senior footman, a sensible fellow of forty odd years. Protocol was forgotten during this moment of crisis. Abbie fretted openly about the missing girl as they hastened through the darkness to the meadow, and Quilp replied as if to an equal.
“Her ladyship don’t seem the sort for any freakish start. Stands very high on her dignity at all times. There’s not much goes up to her chamber that don’t come back down for being too cold or too hot or not to her liking in some way. She gave Mary, the downstairs maid, a rare Bear Garden jaw for not seeing her gloves were taken up to her room when she left them on the table in the hall. Seems it’s not how things are done at Wycliffe. Or even at Elmgrove.” Then he recalled his lowly position and added perfunctorily, “A very fine lady.”
They met up with the party from the Hall at the fairgrounds. Penfel and Farber were with them. Lady Penfel had convinced herself that Lady Susan had felt unwell and gone back to the Hall. Penfel had just told them she was missing, and the girls were all in a flutter.
“Whatever will Slats say!” Annabelle worried.
“Never mind Slats. What will her papa, the duke say!” Kate exclaimed, her eyes as big as saucers.
Lady Penfel frowned. “It is not like Susan to do anything raffish. I fear that rogue has got her. Such a nuisance. Nettie will be very put out with us. You must get busy and find her, Algie. Tonight—or one of you boys will have to marry her. We cannot return her to Wycliffe a ruined lady, or we would never hear the end of it.”
Strangely, none of Lady Susan’s best friends expressed much concern for her safety, but only for what others would say.
During the melee, Kate Fenshaw sidled up to Abbie and whispered, “Do you think it possible Susan arranged it herself, Miss Fairchild?”
“Did she seem very fond of O’Leary?”
“Oh, no. That was not my meaning. I meant did she do it to force Penfel’s hand. She is too proud to let on, but I think she had a tendre for him, and she could see well enough it was you he liked. What a tragedy if Penfel has to marry her. She would not be satisfied with Lord John, you must know.”
“Don’t be foolish, Miss Fenshaw. If you have nothing helpful to say, then be quiet. You are only making things worse by this sort of scandal mongering.”
“I don’t want her for a sister-in-law!” Kate pouted, and left.
Quilp was commandeered to bear her ladyship company. Penfel and Farber joined Abbie.
“How do you figure he got her away?” she asked. “Does O’Leary have a carriage?”
“He has a gig. It’s missing,” Farber told her. “I wager he has her hidden in some out-of-the-way spot by now, but someone might have seen them. Before we left the Hall, his lordship sent men out to make queries along the roads in all directions and at the coach stops, though I shouldn’t think it likely O’Leary would tackle a public conveyance with a reluctant lady.”
“Unless he drugged her or knocked her unconscious, I don’t see how he could have accomplished it, even in a private gig,” Abbie replied. “I wonder if he used an accomplice. That Sadie, who gave you the ring, Penfel—would she be in on it?”
“I’ll see if she is in her tent. If O’Leary went off without her, she might be angry enough to help us.”
“I’ll poke about and see if any of the other workers are missing,” Farber said, and dashed off into the throng.
“What could I be doing to help?” Abbie asked Penfel.
“Come with me. I don’t want some hedgebird to carry you off on me. Just go along with whatever I say to Sadie. A little prevarication may be necessary to get her help.”
He took her hand and led her to the edge of the fairgrounds, where the performers’ tents had been erected. The dancers were in their tent, preparing for their performance. As it was impossible to knock, Penfel just lifted the flap and poked his head inside, causing girlish shrieks and laughter from within and a gasp of disapproval from Abbie.
“Peeping Tom!” the girls screeched. When they recognized who was peeping, the voices settled down to welcome. “Oh, it’s you, Penfel!”
“Could I have a word with you, Sadie?”
“Come on in, then. Don’t be shy, love.”
“This is private,” Penfel replied. More giggles and shrieks ensued.
In thirty seconds, a female with brilliant red curls and a face so laden with rouge and powder, it looked like a pretty clown’s face emerged from the tent, pulling a green satin dressing gown around her fulsome form. Her smile of welcome dwindled when she saw Penfel was with a lady.
“What is it, then?” she asked in a brassy voice.
“I’m looking for O’Leary. Do you know where he is?”
“In his wagon, likely. He ain’t here.” She sounded genuinely confused. “Is it about the—you know?” Abbie mentally supplied the word “ring.”
“Not exactly. One of the girls who is staying at Penfel has disappeared. I think O’Leary has run off with her.”
“No! With one of them grand ladies? Not likely. Which one is gone?”
“The brewer’s daughter. Very well to grass. Her family has sent her to an expensive ladies’ seminary, trying to make a lady of her. O’Leary has been loitering about the Hall, making up to her every chance he gets, and she is not entirely averse. She’s a pretty little thing, but of course it is her dowry—twenty-five thousand—that he’s after. If he keeps her away for the night, her papa will have little choice but to accept him as a son-in-law.”
As he spoke, Sadie’s painted face clenched in fury. “So that is what he has been up to, and letting on he was—” She came to a halt, but now that Abbie knew O’Leary’s history, she could supply the rest. Let on he was finding out what Penfel Hall had to offer, and how he might best steal it.
“If I don’t recover Miss Kirby tonight, then I fear you have seen the last of O’Leary,” Penfel continued. “He won’t have to run a traveling show once he lands himself an heiress.”
Sadie began snorting like a bull. “And him making fun of them fine ladies behind their backs, telling me they was all a parcel of hoity-toity antidotes, and that lady who teaches them the worst of the lot.” She cast a darkling glance on Abbie. “No harm meant, I’m sure,” she added.
“Do you know where he might have taken her?” Abbie asked.
“His rig is missing,” Penfel added.
Sadie stood a moment, undecided. Abbie sensed that Penfel was equally indecisive. After a moment, he made up his mind and spoke.
“Bow Street knows about the rig O’Leary is running,” he said. “By morning, O’Leary’s cohorts will be locked up.”
“He has no cohorts except Larry, the fence who sells the goods in London. He don’t come till O’Leary sends for him.”
“You all knew he’d changed his name from Brannigan.”
; “He said he was running away from debts. No
harm in that.”
Penfel could hardly suppress a grin at this rudimentary notion of ethics. “You were receiving stolen goods.”
“Since when is it a crime to accept a little gift from a gent? And that’s all I done. He said he’d bought it. The green ring, was it the real thing, then?”
“It was. It’s a crime to receive stolen goods. You could serve a long stretch in Bridewell, Sadie. I’ll help you get away if you will tell me where O’Leary is.”
“It’s pretty clear he meant to leave me behind,” she said, frowning in concentration as she made her decision. “He did mention once that a duke’s girl would have a handsome dot. He never said it was the brewer’s chit he had in his eye. That’s different. A duke would never marry his chit off to a fellow like O’Leary, but a brewer—O’Leary can act like a gentleman when he wants.”
A tense silence grew as Sadie wrung her hands and frowned into the distance, and Abbie and Penfel gazed at each other, silently praying for her help.
“I’ll throw in a hundred pounds to see you safely to London,” Penfel said, to tip the balance.
“Done!” she said, and stuck out her hand to give Penfel’s a shake. She took his elbow and drew him away from the tent, to ensure her betrayal went unheard. “Let us see the color of your gold first.” Penfel drew out his purse and counted out a hundred pounds. She stashed it in her bodice, gave it a satisfied pat, and said, “There’s an inn just south of Grinstead. The Duck and Dragon, it’s called.”
Penfel nodded. “I’ve seen the place. A raffish clientele.”
