Harley Street

by Lynne Connolly

  “No mention of Lucy’s twins?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. There seems to be no clue to their existence, not even a keepsake in the room. Perhaps she kept such things somewhere else. She spent a lot of time elsewhere, the other maid said. I’ll make enquiries.”

  She turned over a paper on her desk. “We have one lead, just one.” Her voice changed as she read. “Forgive me, with the shocking news you brought, I almost forgot. You know the maid that disappeared when Lucy was killed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Julia Drury has her. She’s kept her present lady’s maid but this one seems to be an assistant. We know she came from your Aunt Godolphin’s house, so that is where she ended up.”

  I thought about this news. I knew I could trust it; Mrs. Thompson would have verified something so important herself. “Do you think Mrs. Drury knows anything?”

  “There’s no reason she should know about Richard’s connection to Lucy but she must know that the girl came from that house and what happened there.”

  “We need to talk to her,” I said.

  “We do indeed. Shall we approach her directly?”

  I shook my head. “No. Mrs. Drury knows there’s a financial connection between Thompson’s and Richard, because it was in her marriage contract, but she isn’t aware that it goes deeper than that. I don’t think she or Steven should find out. She knows Richard is involved in investigating this murder, so perhaps the approach should come through us.”

  “How did she discover Richard’s involvement?”

  I gave her a wry shrug. “The scandal sheets got hold of it. As a result everyone in London knows Mrs. Godolphin is my aunt and I was there when the body was discovered. With their special knowledge of our activities, the rest isn’t hard to deduce.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” she said.

  “There’s a truce between us at present, one neither Richard nor I trust but it could be useful in this case. Leave it with me, if you would, just make sure they’re watched.”

  Alicia shuffled through a few more papers. “We only have a footman in the house at present. From the special box, that is. I’ll see if I can put someone else there. They’ve dismissed a lot of servants recently, so I may be able to put a few their way.” She made a note.

  “That would be useful.” I stood and held out my hand. “Thank you for being so frank with me.” We shook hands, like good friends. “I’ll keep you informed and if you have any news on the twins, could you make sure you tell both of us, please?” She nodded. “I don’t want him trying to tackle that particular problem on his own.”

  I’D ARRANGED TO MEET Lizzie in the Royal Exchange. I was determined to fit out the Brook Street house myself, as far as I could, so I set my mind to some serious shopping. Entering the Royal Exchange was like stepping into another world. Only a short distance from the Thompson’s office lay this empire of shopping. It was busy at this time of day, about one o’clock, so there were many people to greet before I finally found Lizzie.

  Louisa Crich was with my sister, her mother thankfully taking the opportunity to go home and rest. “I really must find a husband soon,” Louisa said, “or she will collapse with exhaustion.” The poor footman was loaded with packages and with my business concluded, I could join them and enjoy myself.

  A year ago Lizzie had dreamt of this. She had a comfortable amount of pin money and the fashionable world at her feet. Her enjoyment was evident, contrasting well with Louisa Crich’s more practised ennui. I’d met Louisa in Exeter just before my marriage and now counted her one of my friends. The two were gathering a crowd. People stared curiously at them when they passed and whispers circulated. I stood back and watched them for a while, the pretty gestures, the practised flirting and knew Lizzie had come to her natural habitat. I prayed that when she found her husband he would know how to look after her and nurture her generous spirit.

  “We were about to send for the carriage for the purchases,” Lizzie told me. “Now you’re here, we’d better do so without delay.”

  “That might be a good idea.” I watched the poor footman leave. Perhaps my connection with Thompson’s had given me a closer empathy to the servant’s lot but I reflected now that he would have to walk all the way back to St. James’ Square with the parcels before he could return with the carriage. “Why don’t you have the parcels delivered? I usually do.”

  Lizzie waved a careless hand, narrowly missing the hat of a passing stranger. “I like to get home and open them all at once. I always have.” So she had; Exeter had been no different.

  I bowed to a few people I knew before I saw Julia and the girl.

  Julia Drury was on the walkway below us and she hadn’t yet seen us. She had her maid with her and a young girl, a pretty blonde creature, her head bowed submissively as Julia gave her an instruction. This must be the one, the maid who had run away from Aunt Godolphin’s. She must know something, or why would she have run? And how did Julia and Steven find her?

  I couldn’t see her properly, only her gleaming hair and slight figure but when they moved away a little, I was able to see her face clearer, although from above. She owned small, even features and when she lifted her head, I saw a pair of clear grey eyes. Her expression was grave, as befitted a maid. I wondered if she was really in training, or if Julia was keeping her close for some reason. I would have to pay a visit.

  I TALKED IT OVER WITH Richard later. The girl must have been under their care when they came to see us but they hadn’t mentioned her. Why not, if they knew about the murder at Aunt Godolphin’s? If they wanted to reconcile themselves to us, it would have been a gesture of good faith on their part to let us know they had her. “The only thing I can think of is that Julia Drury wants to lure you back.”

  Richard raised his brows. “Why?”

  I smiled. “Why did all those other women want you? To tempt you back.”

  He kissed me and assured me that I was his only temptation but he understood what I meant. It did seem the only option. Julia wanted to lure him back and if she did, it gave us a slight advantage. The Drurys didn’t know how it was between us.

  RICHARD ACCOMPANIED me on a shopping expedition for items for the new house the following day. When we returned, the butler told us a visitor was waiting for us in the small bookroom on the ground floor. Richard looked surprised. “Why the bookroom?”

  “The woman may not be the sort you wish to interview in your private apartments.” Patterson was intensely on his dignity, his nose as high in the air as his neck would allow. With his portly person, it made him resemble a penguin, a creature I had never seen in real life but from the pictures, he would have fitted in nicely.

  Thus, we went into the bookroom, Patterson watching our progress all the way.

  It took me a minute or two to place the woman seated nervously on the edge of a hard chair but then it dawned on me who she was. Probably about forty but well preserved, simply dressed, not in the first style of fashion, her person a little too flamboyant for a servant. Her defiant expression was belied by the way she twisted her hands restlessly in her lap but she looked up as we came in and met our stare boldly.

  “Venice.” The last time I had seen her, she was being carried out of our sitting room in Venice, laid flat by a blow from the butt of my pistol. She was the assistant of Abel Jeffries, the man who tried to kill us, on the orders of the Drurys.

  “Yes, my lady. Venice.” Remembering her manners, she curtseyed to us. We returned the courtesy. Richard watched her quizzically, never taking his eyes from her face. Many people found his blue stare unnerving and she was not immune to it. She blushed and dropped her head when she took the seat Richard indicated. “You wished to speak to us?” Richard prompted her.

  She lifted her head, her cheeks still flushed. “Yes, my lord, my lady.” She stared at us, pain in her eyes. “You sent us home after Venice. You’d hurt Abel but not me, so we could still make some sort of living and you gave us the address of your agency
but neither of us thought we could get proper employment, not after what we’d done.” She seemed reconciled to being a paid assassin, not at all abashed or ashamed. “We went back to our employers—”

  “We know who they are,” Richard put in. “The Drurys.”

  She tilted her head to one side, considering, then nodded. “As you say, my lord. We owe them no favours, God knows.” She sighed deeply. “We showed them what you had had done to Abel but they weren’t interested. They didn’t even pay us what they promised to pay whether we did the job or not. They threw us out. What could we do?” She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “So we went back and said that we would tell you everything. They didn’t know you’d guessed who’d sent us, you see.”

  Richard nodded.

  “They said they would stop us and so we decided to come and see you, to ask you for help.”

  I laughed shortly. They’d tried to kill us and now they wanted our help? But I said nothing. The woman glared at me reproachfully and continued her narrative. “It was a job, my lady, for which we were to be paid well. We were the best and even on my own, I can do pretty well.”

  “You’ve worked since?” Richard asked sharply.

  “Yes, my lord. I’ve no other way of earning a living.” She paused before rushing into her next sentence. “Anyway, they killed Abel. The Drurys.”

  That statement, so flatly spoken, could easily have passed by, except for the sudden crumpling of her features. We watched in shocked silence as she found her handkerchief and buried her face in it. Despite the warm fire, I felt cold. “Twenty years we were together,” she sobbed. “Twenty years. And they killed him rather than pay him the money they could have gambled away in a night.”

  We let her recover her equilibrium. The lady was evidently truly attached to her murderous companion and she sobbed for fully five minutes before sniffing decisively, mopping her eyes and putting her handkerchief away.

  I was shocked at the callousness of the action but surprised they had left her to tell the tale. “Why didn’t they kill you?”

  “They couldn’t catch me,” she answered. “God curse the day we ever took a job from them. And curse them, too. I’ve been in hiding at St. Katherine’s for the last month or two. This is the first time I’ve come out and I’ve been careful.”

  “What jobs have you done recently?” Richard asked then.

  “No killing. Mostly strong arm stuff in Covent Garden.” She referred to the area most notorious for brothels and bagnios. “And not for no toffs. I ain’t working for nobody like that again.”

  “There’s nobody like a toff for sheer cruelty and cold bloodedness,” Richard agreed.

  She nodded vehemently. “Nobody knocks the girls around like the Quality. They seem to think money is the answer to everything but sometimes it doesn’t fix it.” She stopped, aware of whom she was talking to.

  Richard was more amused than angry. “Exactly so. But please don’t tar us all with the same brush. So you haven’t seen or heard of the Drurys again?”

  “Not been near them but I know they’re looking for me.”

  “Whom have they employed?” asked my husband.

  She gave him a sour look. “To do their dirty work? Nobody I know, though I’d know him again if I saw him. Well dressed, young, medium height, knows thieves’ cant well enough to pass but not well enough to belong.”

  “Could be useful.” Richard’s next question surprised her. “Can you do any domestic work?”

  She had to think for a while. “I was a housemaid when I was little.”

  “That might do.” He pondered, finger to lower lip. “You have certain talents I could use but I insist on complete loyalty from my employees. And discretion. If you’re considered suitable, you’ll be placed in a household where you’ll earn the normal wages but if I wish to use you for special work, you’ll be paid a considerable bonus.” He was suggesting Thompson’s. It seemed like a good idea, if the woman could be trusted. “Sometimes it will only involve watching and reporting back to us and sometimes a little more will be required. You’re not in the first flush of youth, Mrs. Jeffries, and this will provide you with the security you’ve never had before. Does it sound useful to you?”

  Eventually, reluctantly, she said, “It’s the best offer I’ve had so far.”

  “One thing you should know,” Richard added. “I do not tolerate indiscretion or disloyalty. If you betray me, it will go hard for you. Can you accept that?”

  “I’m good at keeping myself to myself. We stayed loyal to the Drurys until they hurt us, didn’t we?”

  Richard nodded. He drew his writing tablet and a pencil from his pocket. “Can you read?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then take this note.” He scrawled hastily. “Take it to the address on the back. You may have to wait but you’ll get to see Mrs. Thompson and we’ll go from there. If we need you, we’ll contact you.”

  She got up, took the note and curtseyed. “I may be a fool working for Quality again but I’ve got little choice at the moment.” With another curtsey, she left us.

  Richard saw my doubtful expression. “Better she’s in than out. I’ll have her watched for a while and then we’ll see how she does. And she has useful information that could hang the Drurys or at least cause them considerable trouble. She won’t be allowed anything sensitive until she’s handled jobs that are more mundane. Do you think that will do?”

  I nodded. “I should say, ‘you know best, my lord,’ shouldn’t I?”

  “You should certainly defer to me.” He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “But I’m glad it’s not unquestioning. I need a partner, someone I can trust and it seems this is you.” We shared a long look and I was glad to see him still loving, still caring. He kissed my hand and we left the room.

  It had shocked me that the Drurys had killed Jeffries, when they could just as easily have paid him off. He was no good to them any more, not after what we did to him. But I thought it was foolish as well as callous. If Steven were discovered to be implicated in it, then he would be liable for prosecution. It wasn’t likely but possible.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE NIGHTS WERE GROWING colder in the evenings, so Richard decided to take me to Ranelagh Pleasure Gardens before they closed for the winter. This was a mild autumn and the proprietors had decided to delay the closing to catch the gentry coming to London for parliamentary duties and other frivolities. A recital was scheduled for a date not long before our move to Brook Street and he would take me then.

  Speculation about Lizzie’s suitors was becoming rife but she favoured no one above anyone else and she confided that she had enjoyed this season so much, she would like to give it another year before she settled on someone. “You shouldn’t have rushed into marriage,” she told me after dinner at their house one evening.

  “I couldn’t help it. I don’t know what happened. It was so surprising, I still can’t think about it without shivering.”

  “Shivering?” I had told her once that I had become Richard’s mistress shortly after we met. She’d been incredulous at what she called my folly.

  “Don’t you remember the lectures you read me when you thought I was giving Richard too much attention? What if you’d been right and he was an unreformed rake? What then?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Now you think about it. Well, you were extremely lucky but if he had loved you and left you as the saying is, the best turn-out would have been your private heartbreak. You would have met him and Julia everywhere, since we were coming to London anyway.”

  I swallowed; that would have killed me. “Do you think Julia feels like that?”

  Lizzie snorted in derision. “No, not at all. She has no feelings, that one. Her pride was hurt but no one but us knows about that. She seems happy enough with Steven Drury.”

  EUSTACIA WAS STILL lavishing attention on Richard and privately he told me he would be happier when she went home. “Don’t you think she’ll find a match?” I a
sked him.

  He shook his head. “She’s regarded as an incorrigible flirt. That’s all well in a girl of eighteen but one looks for more in a woman of twenty-three. Or someone of fortune, who can afford to behave anyway they please.”

  I was in my room, having my hair dressed by Nichols for the evening at Ranelagh and he’d come to see me, as he, by some miracle, was ready first. He found a straight-backed chair and sat, leaning back, watching Nichols make me ready. “You can never tell, though. Someone might fall for her. And she’s looking too high. Most of the men she’s set her cap at will eventually marry the woman their parents approve of, not one of their choice.”

  I picked up the nail buffer. “Her portion isn’t great.”

  He shrugged. “It’s adequate for a man who loves her. After all, I would have taken you with nothing.”

  I looked up, to see him gazing at me in the mirror. It was true, and that knowledge astonished me every day.

  I smiled. “But no one has shown that sort of partiality for her.”

  “I wish they would.” He sounded exasperated. “She seems to be everywhere we are these days and once she sees me, she makes a beeline for me and I can’t shake her off. I swear I’ll give her the set-down she deserves before too long. I meant to put her in fashion so that she relied on me but I didn’t know how much it would try my patience.” New tensions had added to the pressures on him. New lines bracketed his mouth and his expression was more pensive than I was used to.

  “You’ve been patient with her. I suppose I still feel guilty about her.”

  He frowned. “I’ve told you before, there’s nothing for you to feel guilty about. Besides, I wouldn’t do anything too terrible.”

  “What would you do?” I stood for Nichols to help me into my gown.

  As I stood in petticoat, stays and stomacher Richard studied me critically. “You’re tight-laced. You’re not overdoing it?”

  “No, my lord,” Nichols replied. “I am taking extra care at the moment. Her ladyship is wearing her stays a little looser.”