To Grace everything was frozen, like a tableau. Wolf and the man were staring at one another while Lord Hathersedge stood beside them, a look of bemusement on his ruddy countenance. Then the gentleman in the blue coat put out his hand.
‘By heaven! Wol—’
Immediately Grace gave a little cry and lurched against Lord Hathersedge.
‘Oh, do forgive me, I feel a little faint.’
‘What? Oh, oh, my heavens!’ He patted Grace awkwardly on the shoulder as Wolf quickly put his arm about her and pulled her back against him, holding her close.
Grace sagged against his arm and gave a little moan. ‘Mr Peregrine, perhaps you could take me somewhere a little quieter...’
The fair-haired lady sprang forward, as if released from a spell.
‘Yes, yes, sir, let us do that. Lord Hathersedge, is there not a room where we may be quite private?’ She directed a look towards her host, who started, frowned, then nodded.
‘Yes, yes, of course. That door over there, madam, you will find it leads to a sitting room. It should be quite empty.’
‘Excellent.’ The lady moved beside Grace. ‘We will take her there immediately. Richard, my love, you will fetch a little wine, if you please, and bring it to us. Richard?’
From beneath her lashes Grace could see that the man was staring open-mouthed at Wolf. A little push from his lady made him start and he lounged away. Grace directed a wan smile at Lord Hathersedge.
‘I beg your pardon for being such a nuisance, my lord, but you can see I am in good hands now. You may safely leave me and return to your other guests. I know you have much to do.’
She was obliged to repeat her assurances before her host would leave her, but at last he allowed Wolf and the lady to bear Grace away from the ball room. They found the sitting room empty, candles glowing in the wall sconces and a good fire in the hearth. The lady released Grace and gave a little sigh of relief.
‘This is perfect,’ she said. ‘We shall be able to talk in here quite freely.’
It was only then that Grace realised how tightly Wolf was holding her. She put one hand against his chest. ‘Thank you, sir. I am very well now, I assure you.’ He was still pale and when he looked at her his eyes were oddly bright. She said gently, ‘The gentleman is your brother, is he not?’
‘Yes,’ said the lady, when Wolf remained silent. ‘He is Richard Arrandale, and I am his wife, Lady Phyllida.’ She chuckled. ‘I vow I have never seen two men so dumbfounded.’
‘Nor I,’ murmured Grace.
The door opened and Richard Arrandale came in, kicking the door closed behind him.
‘I thought we might all need to be revived,’ he said, nodding at the tray in his hands. It held a decanter and four glasses.
Lady Phyllida went across to take the tray from her husband, murmuring, ‘I will deal with this while you greet your brother in a more fitting manner.’
Grace eased herself free of Wolf’s arm and stepped away. For a moment the two men stared at each other before coming together and embracing silently. Lady Phyllida caught Grace’s eye and smiled.
* * *
Wolf cleared his throat. ‘By George, Brother, this is the last place I expected to find you. Atoning for past sins, Richard?’
They were sitting opposite one another, a glass in hand. Emotions were running high, and Wolf kept his tone light. Richard answered in the same vein.
‘It is my wife’s doing. I am a reformed character.’ He smiled and put out his hand to Lady Phyllida.
‘How long have you been in England, Mr Arrandale?’ she asked as she sat down beside her husband.
‘Pray, ma’am, call me Wolf,’ he said. ‘I have been in the country just over a month.’
‘A month!’ exclaimed Richard.
‘I want to prove my innocence. I wrote to you two days ago, but I sent the letter to Brookthorn Manor. By heaven, Richard, when I met Cassandra in Dieppe last autumn she said you had just become a father. I did not expect you to be jauntering to London so soon!’ He added awkwardly, ‘I should congratulate you.’
‘You should indeed. We have a healthy son, who I hope is sleeping peacefully in his crib in Mount Street. We had business in London and did not intend a long visit, but we did not wish to leave little James behind us.’ The soft look fled from Richard’s eyes and he frowned again. ‘You have been in England for a month, Wolf, and you did not think to inform me before yesterday? I don’t doubt it will be another week before your letter reaches us in Mount Street!’
‘I told no one, save Miss Duncombe’s father.’
‘And Miss Duncombe, apparently.’ Richard exhaled, as if reining in his temper. His blue eyes moved to Grace and a smile flickered. ‘Forgive me, ma’am. I am a little acquainted with your father, but you and I have never met before tonight. I have no doubt Mr Duncombe would prefer to keep you away from the infamous Arrandales.’
‘No, sir. It was his wish that we should help your brother prove his innocence, if we can.’
Wolf glanced up at Grace, who was standing beside his chair. She was on his side, supporting him. He felt a sudden tightening of his chest at the thought, but there was no time now to consider if it meant anything.
‘You recognised Richard?’ he asked her.
‘I did, sir. At the same moment your sister-in-law recognised you.’
‘And your quick thinking put us to shame, ladies,’ said Richard, smiling and raising his glass in salute.
‘I hope no one else made the connection,’ Grace murmured.
Richard shook his head. ‘I made a point of speaking to Hathersedge again when I fetched the wine. He was still congratulating himself for extracting such a generous pledge from Wolf. Two hundred guineas, Brother. Are you good for it?’
‘I am, but I pray you will not ask me where I acquired my funds.’
‘No. I shall ask you instead how you plan to clear your name.’
‘By finding out what happened to the Sawston diamonds. I feel sure they hold the key to my wife’s death.’
‘Talking of Florence, I saw her cousin last week,’ said Richard. ‘Sir Charles Urmston. He stopped me in St James’s Street and asked after you. Coincidence, do you think?’
‘I doubt it.’ Wolf frowned. ‘He was hovering about when I came out of our lawyer’s offices yesterday. If you didn’t tell him I was in England—’
Richard scowled. ‘Since you had not deigned to tell me you were here I could hardly do so!’
‘Well, someone told him I was in England,’ said Wolf. ‘He asked me about Annie Meesden, my wife’s dresser.’
‘Perhaps he thinks she knows something,’ suggested Grace.
‘It is possible, I suppose,’ agreed Richard. ‘I saw her soon after she had moved to London and she appeared to be genuinely distressed about the death of her mistress. She blamed you for it, Wolf.’
‘That does not surprise me.’
‘If you did not do it, could it have been an accident?’
Wolf shook his head. ‘The more I have thought of it the more certain I am that someone pushed her over that balcony. Florence hated carrying my child, she was always complaining of her swollen body, and how ungainly it made her, but I do not think she would have taken any risks. And I think Urmston is involved in this somehow. His coming up to me yesterday was just too convenient.’
‘Well, I never liked the fellow,’ stated Richard. ‘I suspected him at the start, especially when I discovered he had come into a fortune within a week of the necklace going missing.’
‘Did he now? That is something I did not know, and it sounds very promising.’
Richard raised one hand. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but it appears there is nothing in it. I made my own enquiries into the matter. Oh, I know it was some years later, but the facts are indisput
able. The day after the tragedy Urmston left Arrandale and went to Newmarket. He met a young man there, a Lord Thriplow. He had just inherited the title and arrived in Newmarket eager to spend his money. Urmston took his whole fortune in one sitting. Poor boy blew his brains out the next day, but that didn’t worry Urmston. It’s an unedifying tale, but there are plenty of witnesses to it.’
Wolf grimaced. ‘Yes, people remember that sort of thing.’
‘Thriplow’s money did not last him very long,’ Richard continued. ‘Urmston soon gambled it away, as he did his wife’s dowry.’
Wolf’s brows rose. ‘So he married, did he?’
‘Aye, but his wife died soon after the wedding,’ said Richard. ‘Rumour has it he mistreated her. One thing is certain, he has no fortune now.’
‘And he told me he thought Meesden had taken the diamonds.’ Wolf frowned. ‘Perhaps he is not our villain after all.’
‘Or he and Meesden were in it together and she tricked him,’ suggested Richard.
Lady Phyllida shuddered. ‘I do not know Sir Charles Urmston well, but I never liked him, and not merely because he wanted to seduce my stepdaughter. I could easily believe he would steal from his own cousin.’
‘And at the time he did not know he was going to win a fortune at Newmarket, did he?’ Grace reasoned.
‘That is true,’ Wolf conceded. ‘But if Meesden did hoax him, why wait until now to find her?’
There was a soft tap on the door and Mrs Graham peeped in.
‘Grace, my love. Lord Hathersedge told me you had been taken ill.’ She came in, carefully closing the door behind her.
Wolf jumped up. ‘Pray be easy, ma’am, your niece is very well. Her malady was a ruse to throw our host off the scent of what could have been an embarrassing meeting.’
Mrs Graham’s anxious look disappeared as he made the introductions.
‘I would not have recognised you,’ she said, smiling at Richard. ‘But then, I have not seen you since you were a schoolboy. I hope you will be able to help your brother, sir.’
‘Aye, if he will let me.’
‘I would rather none of you were involved in this,’ declared Wolf quickly.
‘Pho,’ cried Richard. ‘That is uncharitable of you, Brother.’
‘None of you seem to appreciate the danger of associating with a felon.’
‘You have not yet been proven guilty.’
Grace’s gentle reminder did nothing to alleviate the black mood that was gathering like a storm cloud over Wolf. Richard had a wife and baby now. What right had he to involve him in his problems? It was bad enough he had already involved Grace.
‘Well, I have news about Annie Meesden,’ declared Mrs Graham. She hesitated and looked at Wolf. ‘Perhaps you would rather wait until we are away from here.’
‘By no means,’ said Richard firmly. ‘Tell us now, ma’am. You may depend upon our discretion.’
Wolf sighed and put up his hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘Very well. What did you learn, Mrs Graham?’
The widow sat down on a chair, beaming widely.
‘I think I managed it very well,’ she said. ‘I talked to Mrs Payne about the hospital, pledged a little money then discussed with her the difficulties of finding a clever needlewoman to do one’s mending these days. As I hoped, she immediately suggested Mrs Meesden. It appears the woman has sunk very low and lives in a single room in Leg Alley, off Long Acre, north of Covent Garden. A very insalubrious area, but it seems one of the reasons Mrs Payne uses the woman is that not only is her sewing excellent, but she charges very little.’ Her mouth turned down in a little grimace of distaste. ‘I was shocked at her nip-farthing ways, but I thought it best not to say so.’
‘No, indeed, Aunt,’ said Grace. ‘And how clever of you to find out her direction so adroitly.’
‘Yes, thank you, ma’am,’ said Wolf. ‘I am in your debt. I shall call in Leg Alley first thing tomorrow.’
‘You should lie low and let me go,’ offered Richard.
‘You do not know the woman, Brother. No, I must speak with her.’
‘But you should not go alone, sir,’ said Grace.
‘Of course, alone.’ Wolf gave an impatient huff. ‘It will not be the first time I have ventured into such a place.’
She shook her head at him. ‘That is not what I mean. When I talked to the maid she told me Mrs Meesden dislikes men. She was turned off for insolence towards Mr Payne. I do not think she will talk to you.’
‘Wolf will make her talk,’ said Richard grimly.
‘I am sure he could do that,’ murmured Grace. ‘But will it achieve the result we want?’
Wolf scowled. ‘Then what do you suggest, Miss Duncombe?’
‘Let me come with you. She does not know me, but she will know my father, from her months at Arrandale, and she may be more willing to talk to me.’
Wolf acknowledged the truth of this. Even after ten years he could still remember the dresser’s barely concealed contempt for him. She was unlikely to fall upon his neck and reveal all. He might use threats or bribes, but even then he could not be sure she would tell him the truth.
‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘We will go to see her together.’
‘You must take my carriage,’ put in Mrs Graham. ‘And I shall send a footman. No, two. Those alleys around Covent Garden are little better than rookeries.’
Grace looked at Wolf. ‘Come to the house tomorrow at ten, sir, and we will set off from there.’
Mrs Graham sighed. ‘Oh, dear, perhaps I should not let you go, my love. What your father would say if he knew of it I do not like to think.’
Grace laughed. ‘It was his idea that I should help Mr Arrandale, ma’am, so he could hardly complain!’
* * *
The carriage drew to a halt at the entrance to a grim little alley. It was so narrow Grace doubted the sun ever reached the lower windows.
‘You do not have to do this,’ muttered Wolf.
She squared her shoulders. ‘Nonsense. We are agreed.’ She picked up the package beside her. ‘I have brought one of my old gowns that needs mending. It is the perfect excuse for seeking out Annie Meesden.’
Filth and detritus covered the cobbles and blocked the gutter that ran through the centre of the alley. Grace wrinkled her nose, thinking how much worse the place would smell in high summer. A slatternly woman with a baby at her breast was sitting in a doorway and Wolf asked her if she knew of Mrs Meesden.
‘She is a mending woman,’ added Grace, indicating the package in her hand.
The woman sniffed and jerked her head.
‘Next door but one. Top floor.’ She grabbed the coin Grace was holding out to her and a sly look came in her bloodshot eye. ‘Thank ’ee, madam. That’ll buy some milk for the babe, but if you could spare a few more pennies, I ain’t eaten fer a week.’
Wolf pulled Grace away.
‘It will only go on gin,’ he muttered.
‘I know.’ Grace sighed, glancing back at the woman, who was already making her way unsteadily along the alley. ‘I thought we had suffering enough in Arrandale, but it is nothing to this.’
She followed him to the house where they hoped to find Annie Meesden. The door was open and they went in. If there was a landlady she was nowhere in sight.
‘At least the stairs have been swept,’ Grace remarked. ‘That is a good sign.’
There were two doors on the top floor, one stood open to reveal a wretched woman sprawled on the bed and snoring loudly. Wolf looked at the woman’s face, then knocked at the closed door. A female voice demanded to know who was there. Wolf nodded to Grace.
‘Mrs Meesden?’ she called. ‘I have some mending for you.’
The door opened a fraction to reveal a small, thin woman in a white cap. Her eyes w
idened when she saw Wolf and she tried to close the door, but his arm shot out and stopped her.
‘What’s wrong, Annie?’ he drawled, pushing his way in. ‘Are you not pleased to see me?’
The woman stepped back as he moved into the room. Grace followed him.
‘What do you want?’
The woman retreated behind her little table, hissing like a wildcat. Grace closed the door.
‘Please, Mrs Meesden, we mean you no harm. I am Grace Duncombe. You may remember my father, he is the vicar at Arrandale.’
Grace noticed a worn Bible on a shelf by the bed and she hoped the information would reassure the woman. Meesden spared her no more than a quick, contemptuous glance before turning her attention back to Wolf.
‘How did you find me?’
‘That is not important. I want to know the truth about what happened to my wife.’
The woman glared at him and Grace was chilled by the hatred in her eyes.
He said again, ‘How did she die, Annie?’
‘It’s your fault,’ she spat. ‘If she hadn’t married you she would be alive now.’
‘But I did not kill her, Annie, so who did?’
‘If you didn’t, then it must’ve been an accident.’
The woman sat down on a chair, her mouth stubbornly closed.
‘And what happened to the necklace?’ Wolf demanded. When she did not reply his fist banged on the table. ‘Did you steal it and use the money to set up your milliner’s shop? If so, you were sadly duped. It was worth more than enough to keep you living comfortably for the rest of your days.’
‘No, I didn’t take it,’ she said, goaded. ‘Like I told ’em, my uncle died and left me money to buy the shop.’ Her face twisted into a look of disgust. ‘Only it wasn’t enough to keep it going through the hard times. Still, it was more than I got from the Arrandales. My mistress never left me a penny, not that she was expecting to die so early, poor lamb.’
The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales) Page 13
