A Lady in the Smoke

by Karen Odden

  I felt a rising desperation. “May I walk out of doors?”

  “Of course you may.” My aunt grimaced as she stood up. “We’re not imprisoning you; don’t turn this into some sort of evil fairy tale. I’d like you to remember that it’s your behavior that has led us here.”

  My uncle laid a hand on my shoulder on his way to the door. At the threshold, my aunt turned back. Her face was more sorry than angry, and the furrow appeared again between her brows. “Elizabeth, it gives me no pleasure to do this. But I’m worried for you.”

  Her words struck me as honest, and they struck home. I felt a lump forming in my throat.

  I’m worried for me, too, I thought. My lips parted to confess it out loud.

  But before I could reply, they were gone, and I was left alone.

  Chapter 29

  The next morning, Mr. Flynn came to Kellham Park.

  I went to the parlor to find him standing at the window, staring out, his hands in the pockets of his coat. He looked very much the way he had that day in Travers, when he’d come to ask me about my father being on the board of the London-Redfield.

  How much had happened since then.

  “Mr. Flynn.”

  He turned and nodded a greeting. “James told me that you’re not allowed to come to Travers anymore.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said shortly.

  He merely gave me a look. “Be sensible. I had to let him know, and you had to go home. But for what it’s worth, you’ve been a tremendous help to me—and to Paul—the last few weeks.”

  Surprised and somewhat mollified, I gestured to a chair. “Please sit down,” I said. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t time. I’m on my way to Travers, but I have something to tell you—and something to ask you.”

  I saw from his manner that he wouldn’t sit, but I did. “All right. But first, were you able to find any of the railway listings?”

  “No”—flatly. “But I found out that as of two days ago, Hayes’s companies own something upward of forty-six percent of the Great Southeastern stock.”

  I gasped and sat back in the chair, my mind reeling. “So Paul was right! They’re going to try to take it over. Like the Great Southeastern took over the London-Redfield.”

  He nodded. “Once they own it, they can do all sorts of things—change out the board members, modernize it, issue stock, add branch lines…”

  “No wonder they need a lawyer.”

  “Yes, I’m sure Poole’s been advising them the whole time.” He gave a look of disgust, not for Hayes and the rest, but for himself. “I can’t believe it took me so long to realize what they were doing. I simply didn’t think one man could accumulate all those shares without the board members realizing it. But I should’ve known. Hayes hid his name, and when he met with resistance, he found ways to convince them to sell.”

  “What sorts of ways?”

  “His usual. Blackmail, influence, bribes.” His voice was bitter. “Nothing anyone will admit to openly, of course.”

  If he were anyone else, I’d have tried to say something comforting. But the set of his jaw warned me that it would only annoy him. Instead, I asked, “Will Hayes control more than fifty percent of the stock by next Friday, when Parliament is making their decision?”

  “I’m guessing he already does.” He came to the chair opposite mine and sat down. “But—well, there’s something else. And you’re not going to like it.”

  I held my breath and waited for him to continue.

  “I have it on good authority,” he said slowly, “that Lord Shaw is involved in the takeover—and not in a small way. He and Hayes have been in it together, maybe even from the very beginning.”

  My visit to Shadwell Manor—Lord Shaw’s civility, even friendliness—flashed through my mind, and when I replied, my voice was faint. “Are you certain?”

  He nodded. “And the rumors about your fortune that were circulating? He may have had something to do with them too.”

  I stared, openmouthed.

  “Apparently he mentioned you over a game of whist at White’s.” He paused. “That’s his club.”

  “Yes, I know,” I whispered. White’s, the oldest club in London, for aristocrats only, had been my father’s club as well.

  He leaned forward. “I’ve heard that your father and Lord Shaw fought about the railway, and that Lord Shaw was ousted from the board, probably under your father’s guidance. But do you know of any other reason Lord Shaw would have resented him?”

  My heart gave a thud, and for a moment, it felt as if the whole silent room—the paintings, the chairs, the volumes on the shelves—was waiting for my answer.

  “You can’t use this,” I said softly.

  He shook his head. “I swear, I won’t.”

  I took a breath. “After my younger brother died, back in ’58, Lord Shaw was away in Scotland a good deal, and…and my father began having relations with Lady Shaw. I don’t know if Lord Shaw knows. But if he does…”

  A look of comprehension tinged with disgust spread over his face, and he took a deep breath in. “I see.”

  Mortified, I looked away, feeling my cheeks grow hotter with each passing second.

  “Is there any other reason you can think of?” he asked.

  My eyes jerked back to him. “For god’s sake, isn’t that one enough?”

  “Hm.” He chewed at his lip. “Now I want you to tell me as much as you can remember about your conversation with Lord Shaw. Every word, every gesture.”

  I gave a hollow little laugh. “I’m not sure it’ll be much use. He was deceiving me the entire time.”

  “Still, people reveal things without meaning to. You know that. It’s my guess he’s angry enough that something must have slipped out. Did he say anything that struck you as peculiar, or that seemed to have too much feeling behind it—or not enough?”

  I dropped my head into my hands and groaned. “I don’t know. I was feeling so guilty because of what my father had done to him, and so grateful that he was being civil, that I probably misread everything.” I put my head up. “Why on earth didn’t he simply tell his butler he wasn’t home?”

  “Because he had a reason to see you,” Mr. Flynn replied.

  “Do you mean curiosity?”

  “I think he saw an opportunity to find out what you knew.”

  Cringing at the thought, I put myself back in Lord Shaw’s parlor, tried to recall our exact words and Lord Shaw’s expressions, and relayed them to Mr. Flynn as well as I could. I concluded: “The last thing he said was that he didn’t pay much attention to the railway question but that Parliament should do everything they could to stop accidents. Then he told me he had an appointment, walked me to the door, and asked me to give my mother his best. And I left.”

  He sat silently, turning it all over in his head. Finally, he said, “When you first told me about visiting Lord Shaw, you mentioned that bit about the marshland. So I looked into it.”

  “Oh?”

  “It was his.” He jerked his head toward the window. “He owns a large parcel of land about sixty miles south of here, right where the River Lyle cuts to the west. The railway had two choices for laying the track at that point: they could either buy the marshland from Lord Shaw and fill it in, or they could buy Foxe’s land and build a bridge. They bought Foxe’s land—even though it was almost fifty percent more expensive. Your father steered that purchase, and Lord Shaw took out a second mortgage on his Scotland estate three days later.”

  “Oh.” The monosyllable came out in a gasp. “So my father directed the railway money away from Lord Shaw just when he desperately needed it.”

  He nodded. “I think so.”

  So I hadn’t misremembered their mutual animosity, after all. Lord Shaw must have hated my father as much as my father hated him. Even if Lord Shaw never knew about my father making love to his wife, each man felt the other had injured him terribly.

  After a moment, Mr.
Flynn put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to standing. “Be careful, all right? I’ve no idea if Lord Shaw could—or would—do anything to hurt you, but my guess is that he still bears a grudge.”

  I grimaced. “You be careful, too—just in case he was paying attention when I mentioned the newspaperman at Travers, and they found out who you were.”

  He gave a shrug. “I think it’s safe to assume they did.”

  I stared up at him. “Why do you say that?”

  “Threatening letters at the Falcon. And some strange men lurking near my door the last two nights. I’ve been staying somewhere else.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “Oh, god. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s no matter. I’m fine.” His expression turned bleak. “But Paul’s trial is on Monday, and I just don’t know what else I can do.”

  His hopelessness pained me. And I came closer to blurting out what I knew about Felix Benedict’s opium addiction than I’d ever come before.

  But I bit my lower lip and kept silent.

  And after a moment, he gave a sigh and walked out of the room.

  Chapter 30

  My aunt and uncle returned from London very late on Thursday, and we all met at the breakfast table on Friday morning. My aunt’s manner toward me remained stilted, and she spoke mostly to my uncle; my uncle was trying to be cordial to both of us; and though I tried to keep my mind on the conversation, my thoughts were going around in my head like hares being chased by hounds.

  As we were finishing our second pot of tea, Agnes came in with a letter on a silver salver and offered it to me.

  I recognized Anne’s writing paper, and my heart jumped.

  Had she spoken to Philip?

  “Who is it from?” my aunt asked.

  I made a show of checking the envelope. “Anne Reynolds.” And then, politely: “May I open it?”

  She gave me a look of exaggerated patience. “Of course you may open it.”

  It was very short:

  My dear Elizabeth, Could you please come to see me today? It’s about Philip. —A

  I read the lines twice, my pulse unsteady. I knew my friend, and I knew that this carefully worded letter meant that Philip had decided whether he would testify in court—and perhaps also that Anne had heard that I might need a special reason to be allowed to visit. Philip’s illness would count. Silently, I handed the letter to my aunt.

  She glanced over it, and her expression became disapproving. Like everyone else, my aunt only knew the reported story about Philip, and although she liked Anne very much, she didn’t much care for the rest of the family. “What does she mean, ‘it’s about Philip’? What’s he done now?”

  “He hasn’t done anything, Aunt,” I said, and my voice carried a note of reproof. “You know about Felix Benedict, whose family has brought the charges against Mr. Wilcox?”

  “Of course.”

  “Philip and he were close friends at Oxford. Ever since he heard about Felix’s death, he’s been just wretched. I haven’t seen him myself, but Anne says they’ve had the doctors in, and she’s very worried about him.”

  “Why, Elizabeth.” My aunt looked chagrined. “I had no idea.”

  My uncle gave a rumbly cough. “I can’t say I’m terribly concerned about Philip, but poor Anne. That girl has had a lifetime of worry this past year. It seems only kind to let Elizabeth go, if Anne wants her.”

  I smiled gratefully at him.

  My aunt sighed. “Yes, of course. You can take the gig, but be back for dinner. And don’t do anything foolish.”

  “I won’t. Thank you.” I rose hurriedly from my chair, and in less than an hour I was on my way to Reynolds Hall, where I went straight up to Anne’s room, my heart in my throat.

  She was sitting in the window seat, looking out onto the broad spread of lawn. Though she must have heard me enter, she didn’t alter her pose, and just from the rigid set of her spine, I knew Philip had said no.

  “Anne,” I said softly.

  She turned then, and I saw she’d been crying. Her face was full of regret and pain and something like shame. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. Philip says he won’t do it. I tried. Honestly I did.” She looked so unhappy that I did my best to hide my disappointment.

  I went to sit beside her. “I know. And you mustn’t blame Philip. It’s a tremendous thing to ask.” I hesitated. “If you don’t mind telling me, what exactly did he say?”

  She sighed. “Well, first he was very angry with me for having told you about Felix in the opium den. He felt I’d betrayed his confidence—and I did, though I assured him you’d never say a word to anyone. But when I explained that Mr. Wilcox’s future was at stake, Philip stopped being angry. He just felt sorry.” Her hands twisted in her lap. “He asked me if you loved him. I told him I thought you did, and for a moment, it seemed as if he was going to agree to do it. But…” She shook her head. “Then his whole face went hard again. And he said no.”

  “I see.” My voice caught, and it was all I could do not to beg Anne to let me try with Philip.

  A long moment went by, and finally she asked, “What are you going to do? His trial is in three days. Has Mr. Flynn found anything?”

  “No. He’s found out more about the railway scheme, but nothing that’s going to help Paul.”

  She touched my hand. “You should go see him, you know. Before the trial.”

  “Paul?” I shook my head. “I’m not allowed. And what good would it do? I’ve turned this over in my head a hundred times, but I can’t think of anything else that would help.”

  “Maybe you don’t need to help,” she corrected me gently. “Maybe you simply need to let him know that you’re thinking of him. I daresay he needs your sympathy and—and affection, as much as anything else.” Anne shifted against the pillows so she could face me. “In fact, I think you should go see him now. When will you have another chance?”

  “Anne, I can’t. My aunt was absolutely furious after I went to London. If she finds out I’ve gone to see him, I’ll be put under lock and key.”

  “She won’t find out,” Anne replied. “Did you ride Athena here or come in your gig?”

  “I brought the gig. But—”

  “Then we’ll take it.” She stood up and brushed out her skirt. “We can leave together, and you can drop me in Levlinshire on your way. Then you can either pick me up, or I can take a cab back here.” She smiled down at me. “Don’t worry. If anyone asks, we were shopping together. No one will ever know otherwise.”

  That is what I’d believed when I went to the Falcon offices, and it hadn’t worked out so well. But the thought of having Paul sentenced to prison or transported without my ever speaking to him again felt intolerable.

  Of course I was going.

  Chapter 31

  I left the gig at a stable near the jail, then went to the front gate and asked to see the warden.

  “May I visit my brother, please? Mr. Paul Wilcox.”

  “And what’s your name, miss?”

  The thought flashed through my mind that James might have removed me from the list. But there was no help for that now.

  “Miss Elizabeth Wilcox,” I replied. “I was here last Thursday, and then again on Monday. I should be on the permanent list of allowed visitors.”

  He checked over a paper on his desk, then looked up with a frown. “You ain’t. But you say you be his sister?”

  “I am his sister,” I said firmly. “If you want proof, he wears our great-great-grandfather’s ring on a chain around his neck. It has a Scottish motto on it, about loyalty and remembrance. He doesn’t show it to anyone.” He still looked doubtful. “Please,” I begged. “Our mother is worrying herself ill about him. She can’t even sleep nights.”

  He relented with a grunt. “A’ right. You dunno how many women come here trying to see menfolk wot ain’t any relation to them.” He unlocked the first door. “Not that you seem like one of them sorts,” he added hastily.

  I mustered all my digni
ty. “Well, thank you.”

  He summoned a guard, who led me down the hallways, my heart quickening at each turn, until at last I saw Paul through the bars. He was seated on the bed, writing. The little stove was lit, as well as two lanterns. A slice of daylight was coming in through the window.

  “That’s all ’e does,” the guard said to me, as if Paul couldn’t hear him. Paul looked up at the sound of his voice, but his eyes immediately darted to me.

  “Sits there with them papers, writin’ away,” the guard continued. “Dunno what ’e ’opes to ’ccomplish by it.”

  “Hello, Paul,” I said, through the bars. “Mother asked me to check on you. She’s worried that you’re not keeping your throat wrapped up.”

  His reply came easily: “You’ve told her I’m all right, didn’t you? I don’t want her worrying. It’s not good for her nerves.”

  The guard drew out his keys.

  “Of course,” I replied. “And Jane has been giving her some extra wine with dinner to help her sleep.”

  The guard swung the door open and motioned me inside. I heard the lock click closed behind me.

  Even after the man’s footsteps had faded down the hall, neither of us said anything. We just stood there, looking at each other. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Your cousin said you weren’t going to be coming anymore.”

  “My aunt found out that I went to London to help Mr. Flynn look through the papers, so she’s been keeping a close watch on me. I could only come now because they think I’m at Anne’s.”

  His mouth tightened. “Yes, Tom told me what you did. It still scares me, thinking of you in that cab in Whitechapel. People die there, Elizabeth, all the time.”

  I replied more lightly than I felt, “Well, I was fine.” I gestured toward the papers on the cot. “What’s all this?”

  “James and I have been going over my cases from the past year, and I’ve been reviewing the ones that Sir Solmes is most likely to use to try to discredit me.”

  “Are there very many?”

  He took up a closely written page and handed it to me. “Here is a list of those I thought were malingering. I testified against their claims in court.”