by Caro Peacock
‘I’ve been giving that some thought. You have unusual talents. You don’t think like an ordinary person.’
‘I’m not sure that anybody’s ordinary.’
‘Is that logical?’
‘No, but then a lot of things aren’t.’
He thought about that for a moment.
‘Perhaps that’s one of your strengths, Miss Lane. You have a sideways-on way of looking at things. It could be useful.’
‘How?’
‘As an observer, a solver of problems. There are many people in London who need the kind of service you’ve done for the Silverdales.’
‘I didn’t care about the Silverdales. It was for Daniel and Jenny.’
‘This time, yes. But supposing some of the people with problems were prepared to pay you for using your particular talents on their behalf, wouldn’t that be more interesting and more profitable than teaching singing?’
Again, he’d done that trick of swinging me out and away from my normal world, to a place where things that had been unthinkable became quite possible.
‘You’re suggesting I should set up as a professional problem solver?’
‘Yes, I am. I could even send you clients.’
I laughed again, but something in my mind was saying, Well, why not?
‘And what am I to put on my brass plate when I set up in business? “Problem solver” hasn’t quite the dignity of doctor or attorney.’
He laughed too.
‘Who knows? Private Intelligencer, perhaps. I’ll give the matter some thought.’
Which must mean he proposed to see me again. I couldn’t help feeling a surge of pleasure at that. He touched his hat and tightened the rein, preparing to turn and ride away.
‘By the by, Lady Silverdale asked me to give you this. We hope you’ll accept it. After all, fifty pounds doesn’t last long, does it?’
He tucked a folded paper between Rancie’s saddle and withers.
‘I’ve something for you too,’ I said.
I’d had it ready in my pocket for the last few rides. I took out the folded paper and handed it to him. He looked at me, then down at the paper. A battle was going on in his expression, between the dandy who could never be surprised by anything and a human need to unfold the paper. Human need won. He unfolded it, took it in at a glance and couldn’t suppress a smile of delight and relief.
‘I am more obliged to you than ever, Miss Lane.’
He raised his hat to me and whirled away. I watched him go then unfolded the paper he’d given me. There were two short sentences. Thank you, Miss Lane. I hope you will accept the enclosed as a token of my gratitude. Folded inside, another paper which I had to read twice before I believed it: a draft made out to Miss Liberty Lane on Lady Silverdale’s bank for the sum of one hundred pounds. I let out a yelp of surprise. The picture came into my mind of the sunny upstairs room at Abel Yard, of paying the landlord his fifty pounds and not having to move again.
Hearing my yelp, Amos came up alongside.
‘Something wrong?’
‘Look at this.’
I showed him the draft. He took his time reading it. I thought of Disraeli’s words, After all, fifty pounds doesn’t last long, does it? So the source of the money that had kept me afloat in London so far was another problem solved. For his own purposes, Mr Disraeli had wanted to keep me on hand.
‘Very nice too,’ Amos said, handing back the draft. ‘Now, what are you looking so down in the mouth about?’
‘Because it’s come too late.’
If I’d known that my finances would be so dramatically repaired, I’d never have let Rancie go. It had been the wrong decision, made at our lowest ebb. But the decision had been made and announced and I was sure that, in Amos’s world, it would be dishonourable to back out of it. I tried.
‘I suppose once somebody’s agreed to sell a horse, he shouldn’t change his mind.’
Amos killed off my hopes with a solemn nod.
‘That’s right, once you’ve shaken hands on a deal, it’s made.’
‘And you shook hands for me, as I asked you?’
He looked sorrowful and bowed his head.
‘It’s not your fault, Amos. I told you to do it.’
We rode on a stride or two. I glanced across at him and although his head was still bowed, there was a twist of a grin on his lips.
‘You did do it, didn’t you, Amos?’
‘I suppose it must have slipped my mind.’
‘What?’
‘No sense in rushing things, was there? I had an idea something might turn up.’
‘But the girl’s expecting Rancie for her bride’s present.’
‘She was, but she’ll get over it. I’ve got my eye on a dapple-grey mare for her, pretty as paint. Suit her just as well.’
The sunlight dazzled rainbows into my eyes through the tears that were rising up. I hoped the sweetest, prettiest, etc would be as happy as a lark on her dapple-grey mare. I needn’t hate her any more. I brushed the tears from my eyes.
‘By the by,’ Amos said, ‘what was that note you gave him that pleased him so much?’
I glanced at him and decided to share the joke.
‘One of his IOUs.’
A serious one, as it happened, with a lot more noughts on the end than my draft from Lady Silverdale. It had been in the batch that Columbine had bought. I wondered if Disraeli had known that when he was so eager to engage my services on the side of social order, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
‘Race you,’ I called to Amos.
Hardly fair, because we were five strides away before he knew what was happening, but soon the thunder of his hooves sounded behind Rancie and me as we galloped flat out westwards across the park, with our shadows from the rising sun flying in front of us.
About the Author
DEATH OF A DANCER
Caro Peacock acquired the reading habit from her child hood growing up in a farmhouse. Later, she developed an interest in women in Victorian society and from this grew her character of Liberty Lane. She rides, climbs and trampolines as well as enjoying the study of wild flowers.
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By the same Author
Death at Dawn
Copyright
Copyright © Caro Peacock 2008
Caro Peacock asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library
ePub Edition June 2008 ISBN-9780007283569
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
About the Author
By the Same Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
