A shout from the street below startled me and I did not move until I realized it was a man cursing at a passing driver. But it was enough to finally compel me to action. I tipped the bullets back into the box and carefully placed them at the bottom of the carpetbag just as I had found them. I straightened the garments I had left inside before adding the ones I had removed, making certain to place them just as I remembered seeing them. Calm and steady, I told myself, but I knew I was anything but.
The shawl was the last thing. With the precision of a diamond cutter, I settled it back on top, taking care to arrange the side of the carpetbag so that it no longer looked deflated. I coaxed the lip of the bag closed and stood back, trying to study it for a minute. It looked good, I told myself. It looked right. At least that’s what I wanted to believe.
With a sudden sense of urgency I could not explain, I moved back to the sitting room where the pieces of the newspaper once again caught my eye. I listened for a moment, waiting to hear anything that might alert me to flee, but no such sound came. Nevertheless, I could hardly walk a straight line as I hurried to the table with a stealth much less convincing than it had initially been and allowed myself to peek out the window to the street below. Almost at once I noticed the very thing Colin had supposed when we had first been brought to this street. The building we’d been taken to was across the street and two buildings over. This window revealed a perfect view of the Gothic stone-and-brick structure with its looming gargoyles. It was an ideal place to keep watch on the building’s comings and goings, and there was every reason to believe she could have seen us.
A soft, high trill struck my ears from some distance, followed by another one much closer by. It was the signal. I glanced down and found the newspaper opened to the train timetable with the schedule for the Channel ferries beneath. There could be no doubt now, Charlotte Hutton was about to make her move.
I let my eyes quickly drift around the room, checking to see whether there was anything else I should notice or, worse, anything I needed to rearrange, but there was nothing. It looked as it had when I’d come in, and I felt certain she would be unaware that I had been here. Even so, my heart thudded in my chest as I told myself to hurry, rushing out into the hall and pulling the door closed. “Paul . . .” I hissed, pleased to see that he was still at his post looking down the stairs. “We’ve got to get the door locked. She’s on her way.”
“Wot?” he said with surprise as he moved to me at once. “I didn’t ’ear nothin’ from me boys.”
“Just a moment ago,” I insisted. “There were two trills, one right after the other. You didn’t hear them?”
Paul immediately bent over the lock and set to work on it. “I ’eard that,” he said with a frustrating casualness. “That weren’t me boys. That were birds. Me boys ain’t that good.” He stood up and rattled the doorknob before tossing me a wink. “After you.”
I stared at him a second, unsure whether he was being serious or not, before deciding that I didn’t care. The sooner I was out of this place the better. “We’ll need to know where she’s been,” I said to him again as I hurried back down the stairs, trying to move as naturally as I could, though quite certain that I was failing terribly.
“I’ll get ya word soon’s they come back.”
“Thank you,” I muttered with mounting distraction as we finally reached the ground floor. I attempted to glance out the sidelights for any sign of Charlotte Hutton’s long black cloak, but they were so fouled it was more an exercise in futility.
Paul gave a laugh. “It weren’t me boys, I tell ya,” he said as he pushed past me and on outside. And even though I realized he was right, I still could not coax my heartbeat down to a saunter until sometime thereafter.
CHAPTER 28
The cab had me back at our flat with remarkable haste. That I had given the man his tip up front had proven to make all the difference.
With Paul and his lads left in place, I had every faith that we would hear from them again shortly. With a bit of luck I hoped the two of us would be back at Cumberland Terrace before Charlotte Hutton herself returned from wherever she’d set off so early. But I was mistaken.
No sooner did I push the front door open than Mrs. Behmoth appeared from out of the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “You got ’im all foul when ’e came back and you weren’t ’ere,” she announced with the sort of accusation that seemed to suggest I had been out doing something illicit. “And now ’e’s gone again and wantin’ ya ta catch up ta ’im in one bloody ’urry.”
“Did you tell him where I was? Did you give him the note I left with you?” And now it was my turn to sound accusatory.
“The note . . .” she repeated, her arms springing free of her waist as though they had suddenly become terrifically heavy. “I can’t ’member every damn cursed thing ya go and toss on me tray like rubbish. And ’e were all wound up the minute ’e walked in the door anyway. Wouldn’t listen ta nothin’ once ’e saw you were gone.”
“Did you at least tell him I’d left with Charlie?”
“Charlie . . . ?!” She glared at me like I had lost my senses. “And just ’ow the ruddy ’ell am I s’pposed ta know that little shite’s name is Charlie?”
I groaned even though what I really wanted to do was shriek. “You didn’t even mention that I was with the boy?” I snarled. “He’d have known where I’d gone if you had said that.”
“’E didn’t ask ’oo ya left with. ’E were downright daft when ya weren’t ’ere, and when ’e flew outta ’ere after about one blasted minute, ’e said ta tell ya ta get yer skinny arse over ta the Endicotts’ place before ya take another breath.”
“Colin said that?!”
She tossed off a dismissive shrug. “Somethin’ like that.”
I scowled at her. “But we’re not due there until tomorrow.”
“I’m jest tellin’ ya wot ’e said,” she insisted.
“Nice to see that you can remember his messages so well,” I grumbled, and did not wait for the retort I knew would be coming but instead turned and slammed out of the flat.
The sky was becoming dappled and a breeze was picking up, and I knew it was only a matter of time before more rain swept in. I cursed myself for forgetting my umbrella but started off the porch anyway, unwilling to confront Mrs. Behmoth again.
“’Ey . . . !” She abruptly yanked the door open and yelled louder than was necessary. “’Ere.” She thrust my umbrella out. “It’s gonna rain, ya know.”
“Thank you.”
“There was one more thing.” She spoke again, and I thought there was a note of chagrin in her voice. “’E wants ya ta pick up that Stuart woman wot does the magic on yer way. Said ’e didn’t ’ave time ta bring ’er ’imself.” She thrust out a folded piece of paper. “Wanted me ta give ya this.” With no small measure of surprise I took the paper from her. “Try not ta be late fer supper. I’m makin’ a leg a lamb and ya know ’ow ’e loves me leg a lamb.” And before I could think what to say she stepped back and swung the door shut.
I took a quick glance at the note, which was really nothing more than a short list of items, before hurrying down to the corner and flagging a cab. I called out the address to Lady Stuart’s Lancaster Gate home, and the man managed to wend our way there with great haste. To my surprise, Lady Stuart was not only expecting my arrival but had already assembled the items Colin had requested, all of them neatly tucked into a leather satchel. She informed me that Colin had sent a lad over to forewarn of his need of her and the things he wished her to bring, and it only reconfirmed what I had always suspected, that Mrs. Behmoth could not be trusted.
“I assume you know what Mr. Pendragon has up his sleeve?” Lady Stuart said with a sly smile as we headed off for Layton Manor.
“I believe it is what’s up your sleeve that is propelling this current trip to see Eugenia Endicott. But otherwise, no. I have been quite preoccupied on another matter entirely.”
“Another case?”
; “Quite. This one rather personal, I’m afraid. It stands as a smudge against Colin’s reputation and, as I am sure you can imagine, he does not bear it at all well.”
“Nor, I am sure, does he deserve it,” she said. “He is quite something.”
“He is determined.”
“I just hope I will not disappoint him. Whatever it is that he wants from me, I hope I can provide it.” She flushed ever so slightly and wrung her hands. “I must confess to a case of butterflies.”
“You mustn’t worry.” I tried to sound consoling, though in truth I had no idea what he was going to expect from either of us. “Colin has a way of ensuring that things turn out as he intends them to, one way or another. I am sure today shall be no different.”
“You know him well.”
I found it was my turn to avoid a flush to my cheeks as I quickly turned and stared out at the passing scenery. “I suppose I do,” I allowed after a moment.
The remainder of our trip was borne in silence as it seemed neither of us was particularly compelled to engage in idle chatter. It suited me well enough, as it felt like we had broached a tenuous boundary that I had no desire to breach. I decided it best to let her fret over Colin’s intentions for her while I indulged in my own ponderings about where he had gone so early this morning and what he found there that had provoked him into summoning Lady Stuart and me so abruptly.
It wasn’t until we had started up the great macadam driveway to Layton Manor that Lady Stuart spoke again. “I do hope Miss Eugenia will allow me entry to the house. Miss Adelaide let me know that her sister would not tolerate such an occurrence.”
“Colin would not send for you if he did not have faith in his ability to accomplish what he seeks. There would be no use in having you come all this way only to be relegated to the back of the cab with your trappings. I must assume . . .” I was about to say, He must have a plan, but as I flicked my eyes back out the window I realized at once what was going on. “Oh . . .” I heard myself say, sounding rather foolish even to my own ears, “. . . Lord Endicott is here.”
His horseless carriage, standing at the summit of the drive, was the first I had seen up close. It looked very much like an open two-seat carriage waiting patiently for a pair of horses to whisk it away, though, noticeably, the carriage contained no shafts from which to harness the horse nor a carriage tree to drape the reins through. That there was a large metal box jutting out from under the seat and fully into the area where a trunk might have been stowed did not become obvious until I had crossed behind it.
“I cannot decide whether these things are a marvel or a horror,” Lady Stuart said as we swept past the conveyance.
I could not help but smile. “There is no stopping progress. Besides, imagine how much cleaner our streets will be if they are no longer clogged with the leavings of a thousand horses.”
She gave a small nod. “I suppose you have a point.”
Before we could reach the portico the front doors swung wide and Mr. Galloway stepped out with the stiff and polish he inevitably displayed. “They are waiting for you in the rear parlor,” he said in his concise way, giving no hint of the sort of mood we might be walking into. “I will announce you, Mr. Pruitt, and Miss . . .”
“Lady Dahlia Stuart,” I answered for her as we moved inside. He did not give the slightest reaction to her name, which made me wonder whether he was unfamiliar with who she was or if his deportment was truly that impeccable. “Do you know if they are awaiting anyone else?”
“I would be remiss in trying to answer that question,” he said at once, his tone flat and smooth and without so much as a modicum of reproach. “You will need to make such enquiries for yourself.” He gave a clipped nod of his head, all propriety and decorum, and then swung open the doors to the parlor, ushering us inside with the proclamation of our names.
My gaze fell at once on Eugenia Endicott, whose eyes looked about to bulge from their sockets. Colin, it seemed, had apparently not mentioned to her that Lady Stuart would be accompanying me.
“Genie . . .” Lord Endicott was the first to speak up. “We will have an end to this today, and Mr. Pendragon tells me he needs this woman to do so. Therefore, I will ask your indulgence and we shall see if Mr. Pendragon is a man worthy of his reputation.” He flicked his eyes back to Colin. “I will remind you, Mr. Pendragon, that I will not suffer folly. You will see to the end of this and you will do so with haste and concision.”
“Rest assured that I seek nothing more than the proper resolution to a murder that ended the life of a woman whose very depth of compassion would prove her undoing.”
“And just why is that horrid woman here?” Eugenia Endicott demanded, her eyes boring into Colin even as she referred to Lady Stuart.
“Because she holds a key to this case,” Colin answered at once, his tone coming out soothing and calm. “And yet . . .” Colin continued, shifting his gaze to Lord Endicott, “I do not believe Lady Stuart will prove to be the worst of the people I must request your tolerance of today.”
I had thought Colin would explain himself, clarify whomever else he had summoned here, but he did not immediately do so, which left me with little other choice than to look around at the people he had already assembled. Lady Stuart and I sat down on a sofa next to Colin, facing an accompanying table upon which tea had already been laid between two silver candelabras that were ablaze in spite of the house’s electrical lighting. Across from us, on a sofa identical to the one we were on, Miss Eugenia and Lord Endicott were seated, neither looking particularly content to be there, though I noticed they were the only ones having tea. A fireplace, nearly large enough for an adult woman to walk into, was on our right, and directly to my left was an empty chair. The only one in the room.
On the right side of Lord Endicott was Miss Adelaide’s night nurse, Vivian Whit, and against the back wall to Miss Whit’s right was a settee upon which Mr. Galloway had been relegated alongside the housekeeper, Clarice Somerall, and the lovely cook, Lucy Barber. The groundsman, Denny McPherson, and the coachman, Devlin Fischer, were looking ever so awkward on yet another settee behind me that had a muslin sheet thrown upon it in an obvious effort to protect it from the scruffy clothing both men wore.
The room’s last settee was a curious piece that was constructed to sit in a corner, bent like the letter L, with two cushions on either side of its crook. Miss Adelaide’s day nurse, Philippa Bromley, was perched on one cushion with the serving maid, Emily Wilton, and the upstairs maid, Winifred Britten, sharing the other. Who then, I asked myself, was missing?
The certainty of it struck me at the same moment it appeared to do so for Eugenia Endicott. I watched her spine stiffen and her eyes bloom once more, and I knew she had landed on the same realization that had just occurred to me. But before she could expel her horror in words, a great knocking came from the front of the home and Mr. Galloway slipped back out with the stealth of a lifetime’s practice.
“You cannot mean to suggest . . .” Eugenia Endicott spoke up as he left, her frantic eyes turning on her brother, who nevertheless managed to look wholly unaware of what was about to happen. “I cannot have this,” she said emphatically. “You cannot allow this, Thomas. I will not have that man in my home.”
Her poor brother blinked his eyes twice, casting his gaze from his sister to Colin, his thick gray muttonchops covering the bulk of his face to keep his obliviousness mostly shrouded. “Mr. Pendragon . . . ?” Lord Endicott said, and I could tell by the quizzical tone in his voice that he had no real idea exactly what he was asking.
“You must either trust me completely,” Colin answered simply, “or do not trust me at all.”
Because I knew Lord Endicott had no real notion what his sister was reacting to, he could do little more than nod his head brusquely at Colin before turning a resolute eye back to his sister. “There, you see?” he said with the sort of bluster I was convinced he must use in the parliamentary chambers quite frequently. “We must follow this thing through
with Mr. Pendragon, Genie. It is the very least we . . .” But it was too late for him to say anything else as Mr. Galloway appeared back in the doorway with Freddie Nettle on his heels. “Oh good Christ . . .” Lord Endicott choked, for there was little else he could say now.
Colin leapt to his feet and circled around behind the sofa, barreling over to the door with his hand extended and a welcoming smile set on his face. “Mr. Nettle. You have done us a great service in consenting to be here this morning.”
“Your note said it was urgent. That it would be an opportunity to clear my name. . . .” he responded with notable hesitation, the look on his face as filled with resolve as it was with trepidation.
“And so it shall be,” Colin reassured as he gestured him to the empty chair to my left. “Do sit down. I require only that you set yourself to the truth as you know it to be, Mr. Nettle, no matter the consequences or how you fear it may portray you.”
Freddie Nettle dropped his eyes to his lap as he took the proffered seat, well aware of exactly what Colin was referring to. “Yes, sir,” he answered, though there was far less of the determination that had just been there a moment ago.
“Then . . .” Colin turned with a slight nod to Miss Eugenia, “. . . with your consent, Miss Endicott . . .” But she gave him nothing, her broad, lined face remaining as stoic and unmoving as if he had said nothing at all. “. . . We will begin with the night of Miss Adelaide’s murder.”
He came back around the far sofa, walking behind Vivian Whit and the Endicotts before planting himself in front of the fireplace, the only spot in the room from which he could address all of us properly. His eyes drifted from one person to the next, and I found myself wondering whether he was taking the measure of everyone or testing some theory he had cooked up on his early-morning errand. Whichever the case, it was Lord Endicott who interrupted Colin’s muted survey.
The Endicott Evil Page 28
