Corporal Blevins nodded grimly and took his leave, looking as though he was off to perform a far more repugnant task than the retrieval of a letter.
“How can we possibly have time to deliver that tonight?” I asked, unable to imagine what Colin was thinking beyond a determination to see whom the letter was written to.
“Because if it’s written to someone in the city it will likely be worth our efforts to deliver it, and should it be addressed to someone beyond we may have just stumbled upon another cog in this case.”
“What do you suppose it will say?”
“I haven’t the slightest notion, but it is our first indication that perhaps he was feeling threatened.” Colin abruptly cocked his head to one side and held a hand up.
“What is it?”
“Someone’s coming and it is definitely not Corporal Blevins.”
“What?” I strained to listen and just barely caught the far-off sound of boots clacking on marble. As he suggested, these footfalls were heavier and more methodical than the light, scurrying sounds Corporal Blevins had made.
“It would seem,” Colin muttered as he took the seat next to mine, “that we have ruffled some plumes. It is undoubtedly the major.” He had no sooner said the word when Major Hampstead came through the door, a thin smile flickering across his face.
“Nice to see you both again,” he said hollowly.
“I’m glad you’ve joined us.” Colin smiled. “There are ever more questions to pepper you with.”
“Really?” The major leaned back against the doorjamb, gazing in upon us. “And what might they be?”
“Are you familiar with Captain Bellingham’s brother-in-law?”
“Sergeant Mulrooney? I know who he is.”
“I’m told he was quite disparaging of Captain Bellingham.”
Major Hampstead dismissed Colin with the wave of a hand. “They had little use for one another. It’s hardly the stuff of murder.”
“What was their point of disagreement?”
“Who can say, Mr. Pendragon?” He offered an indifferent shrug. “Families can be such complex creatures.”
“I see.” Colin’s smile grew thinner. “Then let me ask you about something you will know. What precipitated the fight at McPhee’s the night Sergeant Newcombe’s father was mortally wounded?”
“McPhee’s?” His brow caved in on itself. “What the bloody hell does that have to do with the murders of Captain Bellingham and his wife?”
“That is what I am trying to determine,” Colin fired back.
“I really don’t think you need to concern yourself with—”
“I’d prefer to judge that for myself.”
A grin slowly eased across Major Hampstead’s face. “You know what I think, Mr. Pendragon . . . ? I think you haven’t the slimmest notion about who committed these murders. Which means that”—he pulled out his watch—“in about twenty hours you will be addressing the newsmen with the conclusion I shall have laid out for you.”
“You’re evading my question, Major.”
“Your question?”
“What precipitated the brawl at McPhee’s?”
He pursed his lips a moment and then said, “Too much liquor, I suppose.”
“And what, precisely, was the liquor saying?”
Major Hampstead chuckled. “That’s rich, Mr. Pendragon. I shall see you tomorrow. Shall we say four thirty so you’ll have time to prepare? I am already putting the finishing touches on your speech.”
“There is no point in writing a speech for a story that has yet to be finished. And make no mistake, Major, I will resolve this case in time.”
The major’s grin did not waver in the least. “You mean to tell me you’re here harassing my young officers because you are so close to a resolution?” He let out a guffaw.
Colin’s face went rigid, grimness etching his features. Then something happened that, at first, brought me relief—only to be followed immediately by the realization that it was not at all a good thing: Corporal Blevins returned with Captain Bellingham’s sealed letter.
With Major Hampstead filling the doorway, Corporal Blevins was forced to hover just outside, a dusky cream-colored envelope clutched in his hand. He seemed to be trying to decide what to do when he caught Colin’s eye, and in that same moment I saw Colin flinch as he too realized what was about to happen. “You’ve made your opinion very clear, Major,” he blustered as he moved to usher him out. “But if you will excuse me, I should like to complete my work.”
Major Hampstead turned with a smirk, giving a perfunctory nod to Corporal Blevins. “Certainly. You can spend the whole of the night here if you wish, but tomorrow at five we have an appointment with the press that you will not miss.”
Colin flashed a stifled smile as Major Hampstead passed through the doorway. Corporal Blevins stepped smartly aside, snapping his hand up to salute his commanding officer, and to my horror it was the hand clutching the letter, which waved like an unfurled sail from his brow.
“What’s that you’ve got?” The major frowned.
“A letter from Captain Bellingham, sir.”
“A letter? What letter?”
The young corporal held it out as though the mere sight of it might answer his superior officer’s enquiry. “He gave it to me a while back, sir. Asked me to deliver it should anything happen to him.”
I saw the slightest stitch fleet across the major’s brow as he asked, “Deliver it to whom?”
Corporal Blevins tilted the letter and read, “Lady Dahlia Stuart. I was to deliver it to her. . . .” His arm slowly lowered. “But I’d forgotten until just now. I’m terribly sorry, sir.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about, Corporal,” Major Hampstead demurred with a grace that sounded unnatural. “These are trying times for all of us. The point is that you’ve remembered now. I shall see that it gets noted in your record.” And with that, the major snatched the letter from Corporal Blevins’s hand and turned back to Colin. “Is this what you mean to turn your attentions to, Mr. Pendragon?”
“I have offered to deliver it tonight on behalf of the corporal.”
“Oh, come now.” He flapped it toward Colin like the broken wing of a bird. “Are you telling me you’re not the least bit interested in what it says?”
“It’s not addressed to me.”
“Really, Mr. Pendragon. Do let me guess. I’ll bet you’re acquainted with the lady in question, is that it? You’re going to have her read it to you?” His face went dark as he abruptly tore the back of the envelope open. “Well, let me save you the bother.”
“Sir!” Corporal Blevins jumped but made no move toward his officer. “I gave my word.”
“Don’t be insolent, Corporal!” he roared back. “This is the property of Her Majesty’s Life Guard. You’re dismissed.”
The young man sagged. “Yes, sir,” he said, then backed up and disappeared without another word.
“You’re incorrigible, Mr. Pendragon.” Major Hampstead yanked the letter free and unfolded it. “Tricking that neophyte toady to get a look at something you have no business seeing.”
“You made it my business when you hired me to solve this case.”
But the major was no longer listening. He had turned his full attentions to the letter, his eyes skimming the lines even as his face remained indecipherable. I wondered how long Colin would stand here, allowing himself to be baited, but more than that, I feared the case was edging away with every second that passed.
“Well, Mr. Pendragon”—the major finally looked up—“it would seem you are right about one thing.” The tic of a grin scratched at one corner of his mouth. “This letter is indeed valuable. It would seem to bear evidence as to what happened.” And now a mirthless smile overtook his face. “And in the spirit of the cooperation I promised, I shall read it to you.”
“I would rather see it for myself.”
Major Hampstead’s eyebrows arched. “Not a trusting man? Here—” He swung the lette
r to me. “Why don’t you do us the honor then, Mr. Pruitt? Read it aloud. Read it twice if you would like, but then I shall keep it. It is the property of the Guard, after all.”
I seized it from him with a scowl and gazed down at it. It was a brief letter, barely filling half the page. Given its brevity, it was clear Major Hampstead had studied it quite intently before deciding on the nature of its meaning. That he was sharing it ensured that it either reiterated some belief he had been peddling all along or amounted to much of nothing.
I sucked in a quick breath before describing the script of the letter to Colin: scratchy and haphazardly slanted, clearly that of a man’s hand. It looked to have been written in haste with little attention paid to spacing or punctuation. And then I began to read:
“How heavy is my heart that I should find myself putting these words to paper. I loved you with everything I had and know you loved me back. I could see it in your eyes. I could feel it in your touch. And yet you betrayed me. You have thrown back what I have so freely given and deny that which we both know to be true. It shall not be. I will not be cast aside like the fool nor dismissed as one who does not matter. You will acknowledge me, you will embrace me once again, or the price will be complete and you will know that you alone were to blame. Of this I give my solemn vow. Once more will I offer all that is in my heart and trust that you will return the same. For if you do not, then you shall receive this letter and know that it is done.”
I looked at Colin and was relieved when he did not ask that I read it again. I carefully slid it back into its envelope, the red waxen seal rent like a bleeding gash upon otherwise flawless flesh, and tried to comprehend its meaning. That Captain Bellingham had implicated himself in something untoward was irrefutable. His declaration for Lady Stuart was as disturbing as it was unexpected. But what I could not understand was what it said of her. Had she misconstrued his intentions . . . ? Or had she been lying to us all along?
“I should think this concludes your investigation, Mr. Pendragon,” Major Hampstead announced as he grabbed the letter from me. “It seems clear he was obsessed with this woman. Terrible tragedy. Atrocious how the deviant mind works.”
“And what of his own end?” Colin scoffed. “That he may have murdered his wife to exact some sort of revenge on Lady Stuart is possible, but then what happened to him in that attic?”
“Suicide, Mr. Pendragon. The ultimate sacrifice. Have you never read Shakespeare?”
“An extraordinary conceit considering he was bound to a chair. Difficult to put a bullet in your own head while tethered. Even more so given that the gun has yet to be found. Imagine the poor man stumbling about with half his face ruptured, trying to hide the weapon. Remarkable. And then there are the three hundred and seventy-one match burns to his body. Such dramatics are most surely worthy of the Bard.”
Major Hampstead’s face betrayed little emotion. “I am finding your sarcasm tiresome, Mr. Pendragon. Nevertheless, it does not change the fact of our deal. Twenty hours until you present the conclusion I give you to the press.” His expression soured. “I must say I find it disturbing that you admit to a preference for making a public spectacle of this family’s tragedy rather than allowing us to take care of it in private. The Queen’s business is not for the rabble. I should think a man like you would understand.”
“The Queen’s business?” Colin snorted. “I’m sure Her Majesty would be appalled at your antics in her name.”
Major Hampstead allowed a tight smile as he tugged out his watch and glanced at it again. “You must excuse me, as I’m afraid I am out of time, much as you almost are, Mr. Pendragon. I shall have this letter put safely away. You have heard its contents. I have fulfilled my end of our bargain.” His smile took on an air of derision. “You will fulfill yours tomorrow.” He glanced at me with a curt nod but offered no such pleasantry to Colin as he stalked from the room, Captain Bellingham’s letter clutched firmly in his hand.
CHAPTER 28
Neither of us said a word until we were well away from Buckingham. Night had completed its descent over the city, which served as a reminder of how little time was left. The first tendrils of daylight would begin stretching across the city’s horizon in little more than eight hours and here we were heading back to Edwina Easterbrooke’s flat yet again. As I could have predicted, we’d had no word from the lads we had hired to keep an eye on her place. When I was their age I would never have stayed and I doubted they had, either.
As we wound closer to the Easterbrooke flat on the north side of Regent’s Park, I struggled to hold my tongue. Colin’s brow had not released so much as a notch of its furrowed intensity, yet I was finding it increasingly hard to keep from peppering him with questions. I was desperate to hear what he had made of Captain Bellingham’s letter. It was obvious Lady Stuart was implicated in some fashion, as she had undoubtedly been aware of his obsession with her. Perhaps she had even resorted to hiring someone with the intent of frosting his passion. We had seen the remains of such intent too many times in the past.
“That was a bloody rout for Hampstead to have come in when he did,” I finally tossed out.
Colin gave something of a snort as he yanked the cab’s blanket higher across our laps and began absently rolling a coin between his fingers. His gaze drifted aimlessly over the flickering gas lamps as we clattered past and I could tell I wasn’t going to get any further. “There must be something I can do to help . . . ,” I said somewhat meagerly.
“Isn’t there always?” He turned to me at once, seizing the coin in midair, and I realized he had been waiting for me to make just such a statement. “I need you to find Major Hampstead’s corporal—Bramwood, isn’t it?” I nodded. “You have to convince him to give you that letter from Captain Bellingham. I’m sure he’ll have put it in the major’s safe.”
“The letter?”
“Yes. We need to bring it to Lady Stuart. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” I parroted, fighting to keep my jaw from unhinging. I understood why he wanted to see it and could even comprehend his desire to confront Lady Stuart with it, but I could not fathom how I was supposed to convince Corporal Bramwood to release it to me.
“Will you do it, my love?” Colin asked as he nudged the coin effortlessly through his fingers again.
“I can’t imagine how . . . ,” I mumbled, my mind reeling at the very idea.
“You’ll think of something. You always do.”
“So you say . . . ,” I answered with far less faith than he had.
No response was forthcoming as our cab came to a halt just down the road from the Easterbrooke flat per Colin’s instructions. To my astonishment, a slim black shadow came hurtling down the street toward us almost at once. As it passed beneath a street lamp I spotted a mop of curly black hair atop a pale, angular face, one of our lads.
“I knew it was you,” the scruffy boy chirped. “Things is ’appenin’. You’ll be right glad you ’ad us ’ere tonight.”
“Excellent.” Colin grinned. “And where is your cohort?”
“ ’Oo?”
“Your friend. The sandy-haired bloke.”
“That’s me point. ’E’s gone after the great carriage that pulled out ’bout twenty minutes ago. ’E ’opped on the back bumper and went ridin’ off. I been waitin’ ’ere for ya ever since.”
“Outstanding work.” Colin grinned, gently cuffing the youngster’s bony shoulder. “You have most definitely earned your second crown.” He tossed the one he’d been rolling over his hand to the lad and said, “I’ve a suspicion you may earn another before this night is over.”
The boy’s eyes about burst from their sockets. “Ya can’t get better ’elp than me an’ me mate.” He puffed out his chest as he cast a sideways glance at me. “ ’Cept maybe ’im, a course,” he bothered to add.
“Speaking of which.” Colin called up to the driver, “I need you to take Mr. Pruitt back to Buckingham.”
“Ay.”
Colin turned to me and by the
light of the brilliant moon I caught a mixture of resolve and apprehension. “You have to get that letter.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“No.” He grabbed my arm before I could climb back into the cab. “You have got to get it.”
I looked at him and felt a knot settle deep in my gut. It twisted about as I sensed the weight of the case descending upon my shoulders, leaving me almost without voice as I muttered, “Of course.”
Only then did Colin release my arm and step back. “Come back here as soon as you get it. This lad will know where to find me.” He shifted his eyes to the boy. “Will you do that for another crown?”
“Yes, sir!” he answered with unbridled vigor.
Colin watched as I eased back into the cab, the disquiet in my belly now thundering up through my chest. “Godspeed,” he said with the faintest of smiles.
CHAPTER 29
I found myself returned to Buckingham Palace long before I was ready. I had been racking my brain to think what I might say to Corporal Bramwood, with little success. Between his obvious disinterest in me and the afternoon’s confrontation with Colin, I was certain the corporal would be unlikely to allow me to plead my case. The one thing I had decided was to ask to speak with Corporal Blevins rather than Corporal Bramwood. At least that way I could be sure of gaining entry. I knew he would agree to see me again if only to lament the major’s seizing of the letter.
The guardsman who’d gone to announce me took no more than a handful of minutes before he hurried back and ushered me to Corporal Blevins’s tiny office.
“Oh, goodness,” I feigned exasperation the moment my escort left, “I’m afraid I have made a foolish error.”
“You have?” As always, Corporal Blevins gave me a pleasant smile.
“I have confused you with the major’s adjunct . . . Corporal Bramwood, isn’t it? How terribly embarrassing.”
“Not at all.” He grinned. “He’s just down the hall. Follow me then,” he said as he headed for the door.
“No, no.” I waved him off with a chuckle, eager to be on my own when I confronted his colleague. “I know where he is. You mustn’t bother yourself.”
The Bellingham Bloodbath Page 20
