by Tracy Grant
With Mélanie's and Julien's help, Kitty was discreetly swathed in the rose-colored silk dressing gown and holding a refilled glass of whisky by the time Malcolm rapped at the door and then ushered in Simon, Hapgood, Kit, and Raoul. Simon and Hapgood had removed their greatcoats and wore their own clothes, now very nearly dry. Raoul, like Malcolm, was wearing a dressing gown over a clean shirt and trousers. Kit was clad in a shirt and trousers of Malcolm's.
"I'm quite back in one piece," Kitty said with a smile that would charm the most hostile diplomat. "Mélanie can work wonders."
Laura came in with the coffee tray as they all seated themselves. Raoul took it from her and set it on the sofa table.
"Right," Malcolm said, as Laura and Raoul poured out the coffee and passed it round. "We can talk while everyone gets settled. What were you doing in the park?"
Simon carried his coffee cup over to the drinks trolley and splashed brandy into it. "This is your scene, Malcolm. You're always explaining how the criminals orchestrated the crime. Surely we deserve as much."
"All right," Malcolm said. "But it's largely supposition."
"Isn't it always?"
Malcolm drew a breath, sharp enough that Mélanie looked up from adding milk to her coffee. His damp hair fell over his forehead in the way that always made him look like a schoolboy, but his face was uncharacteristically hard. "You and Kitty and Hapgood and Kit are involved in something. Exactly what, we aren't sure, save that it has to do with a series of Radical disturbances in recent months. And that Carfax fits in somewhere."
"What—" Simon clunked the brandy decanter down. "Never mind. Go on."
"Thornsby was interested in the disturbances. He'd found a coded list of them and decoded it. He confronted Kitty about something, probably to do with the disturbances, and also wrote to her. He may be an agent provocateur working for Carfax or the League. Will Carmarthen fits in somehow, but I'm not sure if he's working with you or is an agent provocateur as well, or if he's simply an innocent bystander caught up in the whole thing."
Kitty drew a sharp breath, but that might have been because she'd shifted and pulled on her wound.
Simon strode back into the center of the library. "Look, Malcolm, your story's a coherent scenario. As a dramatist, I appreciate the narrative construction. But as one of the principals, I feel compelled to point out that it contains barely a shred of truth."
Malcolm folded his arms and regarded the man who had been one of his closest friends for over a decade. "Then tell me your version of the truth."
Kitty and Simon exchanged glances. Simon inclined his head at Kitty.
"I need hardly tell you that freedom of the press is in considerably worse straits in Spain now than it is in England," Kitty said. "Which is saying a lot. But a number of Spanish journalists are writing things that need to be said. And heard. Including friends of mine. Friends of yours." She looked at Malcolm. "Flavio Ruiz. Hector Quimeso. The articles they're writing are things that the British Government would also be quick to suppress, given the chance. They both sent papers to me in December. I told them I'd do my best to see the articles published."
"And you did see them published, didn't you?" Malcolm was watching Kitty intently. "There've been a number of pamphlets of articles from Spain circulating recently. I actually wondered if Raoul was involved. I should have guessed you were. And you went to Simon?"
"I didn't have the resources to have them printed on my own. I'd already got myself in trouble in Argentina for publishing my own pamphlets. Julien remembers." Kitty cast a brief look at Julien who was sitting quietly beside her. He was watching Kitty with an intent gaze that gave little away, but Mélanie was fairly sure most of this was news to him too. Kitty touched his hand, then looked back at Malcolm. "Simon and I had talked about the situation in Spain, and his frustration at Britain's lack of support for those seeking change and fears that Britain could intervene on the other side. From the things he said, and what I'd heard about the Levellers, I assumed not only did he know printers, but he probably knew some who would print not just plays, but papers that the government might be interested in suppressing."
Malcolm's gaze moved from Kit to Hapgood.
"I have a press in my basement," Hapgood said. "Used for unofficial purposes."
"And you—" Malcolm turned to Kit.
"Did the odd bit to help out," Kit said. "I'm actually the one who knew Hapgood first. He published some pamphlets of mine a couple of years ago."
"The ones that caused you to have to flee Britain for Italy."
"Er—yes. I introduced Hapgood to Simon."
Kitty took a drink of whisky with tight fingers. "Getting these articles published has become even more vital since the mutiny in Spain. I received more recently that were particularly explosive." She hesitated a moment, looked at Raoul for the first time since she'd begun her story, looked back at Malcolm. "They're notes of secret meetings Carfax had with counterparts from Spain and Italy about the possibility of British intervention if the revolutionaries take control."
Malcolm drew a breath. Mélanie met her husband's gaze across the room. On the one hand, it was hardly surprising. Of course any rumblings of revolution would make Carfax think about interfering. They already knew he'd been gathering information on the Carbonari and about the revolutionaries in Spain. On the other hand, technically the British government was committed to nonintervention.
Mélanie glanced at Raoul. The connection to Spain potentially put him more in the middle of this, but he was sitting by quietly, gaze shifting between Simon and Kitty.
"Getting those notes printed would make it more challenging for Britain to interfere." Malcolm looked at Raoul. "How much did you know about this?"
"I told you." Raoul was sitting very still on the sofa. Laura was equally still beside him. "I didn't know what they were doing until tonight."
"I know what you told me. That was before we knew this was about Spain. And notes of secret meetings."
"I'm not the one who intercepted the notes. More's the pity. I knew Quimeso and some of the others had sent papers to Britain. I suspected what Kitty and Simon and Hapgood and Kit were doing. But I didn't have proof. And I wasn't part of it." He took a drink of coffee. "Not that I wouldn't have been if asked."
"We couldn't have asked you to keep secrets from Malcolm." Perhaps surprisingly, it wasn't Simon who said it, but Kitty.
"It would be far from the first time," Malcolm said. "Or the last, I suspect.
"Still," Raoul said. "It's appreciated."
"It's the truth," Kitty said. "And what Raoul told you is true. Unless you think we're all making this up for some reason."
"No." Malcolm turned his cup in his hands. "It may be folly for me, of all people, to talk about knowing people, but I think I know you all well enough to recognize a story that has the ring of truth." He looked at Simon. "Why in God's name didn't you tell me?"
"Why the hell do you think?" Simon said. "For the same reason I didn't tell David. You're both in Parliament. Supposedly upholding the law of the land. It would be a rather ugly burden to inform you I was in the process of breaking it. Besides—"
"You weren't sure what we'd do?"
"To be blunt, no."
"Jesus, Simon." Malcolm's gaze locked on his friend's. "We're on the same side."
"Sides get a bit blurry."
"I think we've established that we're both opposed to Carfax."
"Who was conducting British government business in these meetings, even if unofficially. Those are the sorts of missions he used to send you on."
"He used to send Kitty on them too." Malcolm's gaze shifted to his former comrade and lover.
"Fair enough," Kitty said. "We've all changed. But I'm not part of the government."
"No," Malcolm said. "But I wouldn't—"
"Aren't you always saying no one can be sure what anyone would do under the right circumstances?" Kitty asked.
Simon scraped a hand over his hair. "And Carfax is
David's father. Just as Kitty and I both knew we couldn't ask O'Roarke to keep secrets from you, I couldn't put David in the position of knowing in advance we were about to publish notes of his father's meetings. Of course, you could also say I shouldn't have published them at all on those grounds. But I couldn't hold back either."
"No," Malcolm said, and though he didn't look at Mélanie she knew he was thinking of their conversation just now in the bedchamber. "I can see that. And David wouldn't want you to act differently."
"I hope so," Simon said. "I also couldn't ask you to lie to David. Not after everything else the two of you have been through."
Malcolm inclined his head. Then he looked from Kitty to Simon. "Where does Thornsby fit into it?"
"I wish to God I knew," Kitty said.
"You mean he wasn't in on the plot?"
"Thornsby?" Simon shook his head. "He was far too impulsive for anything of the sort. At least, he seemed to be."
Malcolm turned to Hapgood. "Thornsby was staying in your house."
"I know. Now. Thanks to you and Mr. Roth."
"You mean you didn't know it until Roth and I called on you?"
"How should I? He called himself Montford, as I told you."
"Simon would have recognized him. Or Kit. Or Kitty." Malcolm's gaze swept the three of them.
"I never saw him," Simon said. "I didn't even know Hapgood had a tenant."
"Nor did I," Kit said.
Kitty took a sip of whisky. She was still pale but her hands were steadier. Julien sat watching her closely, probably both to monitor her health and to appraise her story. "I never went to Hapgood's at all," Kitty said. "That was why we were meeting in the park tonight. It was the first time I met Mr. Hapgood." She smiled at Hapgood. "I haven't thanked you for your assistance yet, have I? Or apologized for what I pulled you into."
Hapgood flashed a smile at her. "My life is quiet enough, Mrs. Ashford. I appreciate some adventure." He looked back at Malcolm. "Montford—Thornsby—wasn't home much. Which makes more sense, now I know he was leading a double life."
Malcolm met Hapgood's gaze and nodded. "Do you think he was spying on you?"
Hapgood stared into his coffee cup, brows drawing together. "I didn't at the time. Would have taken action if I had. But thinking back—I found him in the shop one day, turning the pages of a book in the classics section. Said he was reliving moments from his undergraduate days. Didn't think so much of it. But in retrospect—After you and Mr. Roth visited me this afternoon, and I learned Montford had been living a double life and had been murdered, I had all sorts of questions. I wasn't sure why the devil he'd lodged with me or who he was, but it all began to look a bit suspicious. I sent messages to Tanner and Montagu and Mrs. Ashford suggesting we meet this evening."
Malcolm scraped a hand through his hair. "That's such an implausible story it almost has to be the truth as well."
"Or a very, very clever lie," Julien said.
"That too," Malcolm said.
Hapgood reached for his coffee cup. "I can't answer for the others, but I'm not that good a liar."
"Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Hapgood. And yet—" Malcolm regarded the bookseller, then turned his gaze to Mélanie. She stared back at him. He'd said they'd both make up their minds for themselves. But she couldn't be any surer of her own mind than he could of his.
"Surely it's occurred to you that he could have deliberately chosen to lodge at Hapgood's without being in league with us," Kitty said. "We could be his targets, not his accomplices."
"Oh, it's occurred to me," Malcolm said. "And I admit it looks more likely now." He watched her for a moment. "Sofia Vincenzo heard you quarreling with Thornsby. What was it really about?"
"I told you—"
"I know what you told me."
Kitty drew a sharp breath, glanced at Julien, winced again. Perhaps at the pull on her wound. Perhaps not. "I told Malcolm that Lewis Thornsby and I spent an unexpected night together when you were away. That he had to make more of it than it was to justify his behavior so he decided he fancied himself in love with me."
"Well, that's one way to account for it," Julien said. "I'd have thought you could come up with something better. So perhaps it's the truth."
"That's what I tried to tell Malcolm. He was convinced I was lying. But Malcolm's inclined to romanticize things."
"Which neither you nor I is," Julien said.
"Sofia said you and Thornsby didn't sound like people who'd ever been intimate," Mélanie said.
"Sofia is an astute young woman," Kitty said. "But no one can be sure in such a situation. But—oh, poison. I don't know if it's Malcolm or Sofia, or sitting here beside Julien, or the fact that I almost died tonight and I really don't want my legacy to be that all of you think I dallied with Thornsby." She hunched her shoulders and took a sip of whisky. "Sofia's right. I never slept with him. I scarcely even talked to him until Thornsby confronted me the night before last and said he knew Kit and Simon and I were involved in something. He said he wanted to help. When I implied that the best help he could give was by staying out of it, he implied that if he couldn't be sure of what we were doing, he might have to tell someone else to make sure it wasn't something treasonous. I told him I had to talk to the others and promised to send word to him soon. When I got home, I sent him a note asking him to meet me at the White Rose in two days—this morning. That's the note Malcolm found. I had to think quickly and make up something when Malcolm confronted me about it. I didn't do very well. And then I asked Mr. Montagu to back my story up." She looked at Kit. "I'm sorry for putting you in that position."
Kit swallowed. "I wanted to help. But—"
"Don't look at me," Julien said. "I should be the least of anyone's concern in this."
Kitty regarded her lover. "Are you going to tell them the rest?"
The candlelight seemed to bounce off Julien's eyes. "What rest?"
"That Simon and I were meeting in the Tavistock the night Thornsby was killed. Possibly while Thornsby was killed." She shivered. "I assume you showed up so promptly after Mélanie discovered the body because you were following me."
Julien shifted his position on the sofa. "Yes, as it happens. Call it professional curiosity. Or perhaps personal curiosity would be more accurate."
"And then you followed me again tonight."
"It seemed the best way to learn what was going on."
Kitty's gaze raked his face. "How did you know—No, I suppose it would be better to ask how you could not know something."
Malcolm looked from Kitty to Simon. "When did you get to the theatre?"
"About six," Simon said. "Kitty sent me a note in the morning to meet her after rehearsal."
"I was trying to work out what to say to Thornsby the next day," Kitty said.
"Which of you got to the theatre first?" Malcolm asked.
"I did," Simon said. "I waited in the alley until Kitty arrived. We went inside and down to my office. We didn't see or hear anyone. But we also didn't search the theatre."
Malcolm nodded. "And then?"
"We talked for about half an hour. We agreed that this made it even more imperative to get the notes of Carfax's meetings with Spanish and Italian officials printed and out into the world. Kitty said she'd stall Thornsby as long as she could. I walked back upstairs with Kitty at about six-thirty. I still had some papers to go through, so I locked up behind Kitty and went back down to my office."
"That fits with what I saw," Julien said. "I followed Kitty and took up watch in the theatre, though I didn't risk going close enough to overhear them. I saw Tanner let her out. I waited a bit because I had it in mind to look round the theatre. And I thought Kitty might notice if I followed her home."
"I woefully failed to notice your following me there," Kitty said.
"You were preoccupied. I didn't want to press my luck. After a while, when Tanner was still absorbed in his papers, I decided it was safe to venture out. I heard Mélanie and the children when I did. And judging
by the condition of Thornsby's body, he must have been dead by the time Tanner and Kitty arrived. So unless the three of us are involved in something together, you have a timeline, and we're in the clear. At least Kitty and Tanner are. I supposed I could have killed him earlier."
"Any of us could have killed him earlier," Kitty said.
"You couldn't," Julien said. "You were with me the rest of the day."
"We'd have to have been in on it together," Kitty said. "And my having to meet Thornsby the next morning gives me a motive."
"And me," Simon said.
"And me," Julien added.
Kitty looked at him.
"There's a lot I'd do for you, sweetheart. But I think Malcolm realizes at least Tanner would have had qualms about cold-blooded murder."
Kit shifted in his chair. "Er—" He coughed and took a drink of coffee. "You showed me a list earlier today, Malcolm. A list of Radical disturbances, including the one where Will Carmarthen got arrested. You said you found it in Thornsby's rooms. Is that true?"
"Yes," Malcolm said.
"And so you assumed that Thornsby had something to do with the disturbances."
"I didn't assume it. It was one explanation. We're still trying to figure out the meaning of the list."
"Yes. I may be able to shed some light on that." Kit turned his cup in his hand. "Thornsby approached me two days ago as well."
"In the theatre?" Mélanie asked.
Kit's eyes widened.
"Brandon overheard some of it."
"You didn't say."
"We didn't find out until this afternoon."
Kit gave a quick nod. "I don't know how much Brandon overheard, but I found Thornsby going through papers in Simon's office."
"What?" Simon said.
"I know," Kit said. "When I accused him, Thornsby told me he thought he had evidence Carfax had engaged agents provocateurs who were behind several violent incidents at recent Radical events. I asked him why he was going through Simon's things. He said he knew some of us were involved in something else and he wanted in. He basically offered to trade his evidence about the agents provocateurs for letting him in on what we were doing. Which didn't really make sense if he was on our side. I said there wasn't anything to let him in on, and he said he knew I was lying. I asked him what evidence he had about the agents provocateurs. He said he could bring it to me tomorrow. I was going to wait and see what he had before I told anyone else. But then the next night he was killed." Kit looked at Malcolm. "I was waiting at the White Rose to talk to him when Roth's constable came in, and I learned Thornsby had been killed. That's why I went to search his lodgings. I couldn't tell you without unraveling the whole plan to publish the papers. I couldn't make that decision on my own. I was waiting for tonight to talk to Simon and Kitty. I told myself one day's delay wouldn't ruin things."
