Emily Wilton looked horrified as she stared back at Colin, and it was all the answer that was needed.
“Enough,” Eugenia Endicott demanded as she stood up and rounded on Mr. Fischer, who looked as though he had been punched square in the face. “You are a wretched man. You thought to exact revenge and succeeded in nothing more than stealing the life of the only person who ever gave a damn about you. About any of you. A woman whose kindness was far greater than my own. And if you believe I have not paid for my transgression every day of my life since the birth of your accursed mother, then you are indeed the hollowest of men. I wish we had died that day. At least that would have spared Addie from the scourge of my recklessness. But now I shall see you hang for what you have done, Mr. Fischer, and perhaps you as well, Miss Whit. For that is all I have left.” She seized her gown and swept from the room without a glance back at any of us.
“No . . . !” Miss Whit cried out. “It wasn’t my fault. It was him . . . it wasn’t me . . . !” but Miss Eugenia was already gone.
“Vivian . . .” Miss Bromley groaned as she started to move to her friend before pulling up short and sagging impotently.
“You will ring Scotland Yard, Mr. Galloway,” Colin ordered, “and tell them they are urgently needed by me. Ask for Acting Inspector Maurice Evans, if you please.”
“As you wish,” the man said in little more than a whisper as he headed out of the room.
No one else moved except Colin, who went to the door and leaned against it with a casualness that belied what had occurred. “If you wish to attend to your sister . . .” he suggested to Lord Endicott after a moment.
“I fear I have contributed enough to her undoing and shall wait here for the Yard to sort these villains out.” He looked over at Emily Wilton, and as his gaze rose I could see that his eyes were rimmed in red with a grief that felt almost palpable. “Would you mind tending to her, Miss Wilton . . . ?”
The young woman rose at once and left the room, leaving the rest of us to linger in the awkward silence with nary another word spoken between us.
CHAPTER 29
We waited at Layton Manor just long enough for Maurice Evans and a contingency of his men to arrive from the Yard, and with little more than a hurried explanation and a promise to stop by his office within a couple hours, we hastened away with Lady Stuart. I had finally managed to alert Colin to Paul’s success in finding Charlotte Hutton’s rooms, which made a marked change in his demeanor. There was little time for celebration with Mrs. Hutton so close at hand.
“However did you happen upon Devlin Fischer’s birth certificate?” Lady Stuart asked Colin the minute the three of us were headed back to her house.
“There is a studious young man in the General Register Office who thinks me fascinating and colorful, and I have done nothing to dissuade him,” Colin answered absently, his eyes focused on the road ahead, and I knew he was desperate for the driver to move faster.
“But how did you make the correlation between Mr. Fischer and Miss Eugenia in the first place?” she continued to pry, clearly unaware of Colin’s distraction.
“Mr. Fischer had the means to have committed the murder every bit as much as the nurse, Miss Whit and, of course, Mr. Nettle. But given the association between Mr. Fischer and Miss Whit, the fact that it preceded the start of Adelaide Endicott’s hauntings, it seemed to me that one of them had to be leading the other. In this case I suspected it most likely to be Mr. Fischer, since Miss Whit’s family resides in the Highbury ward of Islington and has for some generations without incident. But Mr. Fischer’s upbringing quickly proved a far sight murkier. . . .” His voice trailed off as his attentions went back to the road.
“And . . . ?” Lady Stuart pressed.
Colin glanced back at her as though she had not been paying the least bit of attention. “I knew a motive was almost certain to be found there. What else could it have been? Mr. Nettle was far too convenient a scapegoat. Even a fool could concoct a better defense for himself than what Mr. Nettle was left with. So once I knew that Miss Adelaide had not taken her own life, I had only to review the remaining possibilities to see who was left.” He turned his face back to the window. “It was always about access, motive, and reason,” he muttered, squinting into the distance ahead of us. “Just as it ever is.” Without warning he abruptly whipped around and stared at me. “Did you tell Paul we would be at Lady Stuart’s?”
“Mrs. Behmoth knew where I . . .” But my response instantly became irrelevant before it was roundly overwhelmed by a great whoop and the unmistakable sound of Paul’s young voice hollering.
“MR. P.!”
And that was all it took for Colin to fling the carriage door open and leap down, which was also well before the driver had any inkling that he was about to do so. Lady Stuart let out a gasp, but not before the driver, having doubtless felt the shift in weight beneath him, sharply reined in the horses, sending the two of us jerking forward like a couple of raggedy dolls.
“Wot’s ’appened?” the man called out in alarm as he brought the cab up short.
“We need to get out here,” I answered even as Lady Stuart was climbing down from the cab with me on her heels. I reached into my pocket to settle his fare when I heard Colin.
“Don’t let him go, Ethan,” he said, signaling back to me from where he was standing, huddled with Paul. “We’ll not be staying. Fetch Lady Stuart another cab.”
He didn’t bother to finish his sentence, nor did he need to. It was evident by Paul’s presence and the animated way in which the young lad was conferring with Colin that Charlotte Hutton had reappeared.
“You must forgive our hurried retreat,” I said to Lady Stuart as I waved another carriage down for her, “but I suspect our other case is coming to its own culmination.” At least I hoped that to be the case.
“You needn’t explain.” She turned and offered me her beautiful smile, making it clear that she had already guessed and understood.
“We mustn’t delay. . . .” Colin announced as he hurried back over to us. “Pardon our haste. . . .” he flung back over his shoulder as he and Paul climbed into the carriage. “Your assistance was crucial this morning, and we shall be back to pay you our highest regards as soon as possible,” he mumbled as he took a seat before turning back and staring out at me. “Are you coming?!”
“Go,” she insisted with that smile as another cab pulled in beside her, and I did not have to be prodded twice.
“To Victoria Station,” Colin hollered up to the driver the moment my foot struck the running board. “And twice your fee if you get us there with ungodly speed.”
Our driver also did not need to be prodded twice as the coach whip cracked and the carriage lurched forward before I had even made it fully inside. With the door wagging behind me, I threw myself sideways into the seat across from Colin and Paul, leaving Paul to lean out with a snicker and snatch the door shut with a resounding bang.
“Charlotte Hutton returned to her rooms some time ago,” Colin explained in a rush as though I might not have already figured that out for myself. “Paul sent one of his boys back to our flat but you’d already left, so they followed her down to Victoria Station.”
“She’s ’eadin’ fer Dover and then goin’ to the Continent,” Paul piped up, which I had also surmised.
“How long ago did she arrive at Victoria?” I asked.
Paul gave a shrug. “’Bout an ’our.”
I was about to ask when the train was scheduled to leave but instead was forced to seize the nearest handhold to keep myself from flying across the carriage’s interior as we heaved around a corner, and given that action I assumed I already had my answer.
“Tip this driver extra,” Colin mumbled under his breath, although I noticed that he was holding on every bit as hard as I was. “Unless he sends us onto our side,” he added.
There was a sudden slew of curses hurled from our driver as we lurched first one way and then another, and I was certain I felt one of
the back wheels raise up before slamming back down, sending us in a paroxysm of rocking that tossed my stomach unrelentingly. I glanced toward the window but did not see what had caused our trouble, and was grateful when I spotted the station drawing closer. The tall redbrick structure with its slate mansard roof and cream-colored chimneys rising high above felt like a beacon as, inconceivably, I felt the coach gain speed.
“We’re almost there,” I said, more for my own edification than anyone else’s, which became even clearer when Paul gave a roar of delight as though he would be sorry to see the ride end.
“Which platform is her train leaving from?” Colin asked as a flurry of shouting and wrath could be heard pelting us.
“Number seven,” he answered, and as before I could not help but be impressed by this young lad. “I left two a me boys behind ta keep an eye on things. They’ll know where she’s sittin’ and if she’s moved around any.”
“Outstanding,” Colin said under his breath, having been forced to brace himself as the carriage jerked to so abrupt a stop I feared the horses must have suffered some injury. “Be quick, Ethan,” Colin prodded unnecessarily as I shoved a handful of change up to the driver before adding an extra half crown.
I leapt to the ground and my legs felt wobbly for an instant as they gauged whether the earth beneath them would now hold steady. The driver beamed down at me and shouted something I did not catch as I was already sprinting toward where I had seen Colin and Paul fade into the crowd. I bolted through the entrance, my eyes raking back and forth in search of Colin, while making great haste toward platform seven. It did occur to me that I might need to be somewhat inconspicuous lest Charlotte Hutton might still be wandering around to ensure her own successful departure, and yet as I drew nearer to the platform there were so many people running one way or another that I realized I looked no more or less obvious than anyone else trying to make a connection.
“’Ey . . .”
The voice startled me until I realized it was Paul’s. I had flown right past him and Colin, and another, smaller boy, all of whom were huddled right at the entrance to the platform. “She got on ’bout twenty minutes ago and ain’t left since,” the smaller lad was saying, a skinny little redhead with an angular face and a nose like a hawk’s beak. “I got Ernie ’alfway down the tracks keepin’ an eye on things. I ain’t moved from ’ere. She ain’t gone nowhere. You can pick ’er off like a boil.”
Colin’s brow furrowed as he stared down the platform, the diffuse lighting giving it an ethereal, almost mythic radiance. “You had best stay here,” he said to the redhead, “but you must holler if we flush her out this way.” He looked back at Paul. “Get us to your boy Ernie and then I want the two of you to come back here with this tyke and wait. If she does come back this way, you lot should follow her, but do not, do not, try to engage her in any way. I will have your word on it, Paul. For you and both of your mates.”
Paul made a face as his eyes rolled skyward. “A’right . . .” he conceded. “But ya ain’t gotta worry ’bout us.”
“I shan’t worry about you,” Colin shot right back, “because you will not be involved.” He started for the platform, keeping to the side farthest from the train itself. “Now where is your friend?”
Paul gave the sigh of a man many times his age and struck out down the length of the train, carefully following Colin’s initiative by staying to the far side of the platform. We had passed no more than four or five cars before Paul waved us to halt. Colin and I sidled up to the nearest pillar and waited as Paul let out a coo that sounded more like a real pigeon than any of the innumerable birds that were loitering and rummaging on the rafters above. A response was immediate and not an instant later a pint-sized boy with a floppy cap tugged low on his head and brown eyes the size of saucers was next to us.
“She ain’t moved,” he said with such rigid seriousness that it would have made me laugh had the circumstances not been so grave. “She’s two cars up in the second room from the back. I followed ’er in before the buggered conductor threw me arse off ’is ruddy train.”
“Well done,” Colin said, his eyes already set on the train car young Ernie had referenced. “Now you two get back to where I’ve instructed and wait, and keep your eyes open. We will be needing a bobby shortly, and there will almost certainly be a reward for your help once this wretched woman has been turned over to the Yard.”
“I’ll take a piece a that!” Ernie grinned.
“You’ll take wot I give ya,” Paul quickly corrected. “Now scoot, ya little pox.” The young lad, still grinning like a fool, did precisely as ordered even though Paul hung back, turning his gaze back to Colin. “Ya sure ya don’t need me ta ’elp out . . . ?” he asked again.
“You will get back to where I have indicated or you will find yourself decidedly out of work as far as we are concerned.”
“A’right . . .” Paul groaned, his voice thick with disappointment.
The train’s whistle suddenly screeched its warning, alerting those of us thronging the platform that the time was nigh to climb aboard or move away. A great gust of steam was expelled from beneath the sides of the engine, setting Colin to motion in an instant.
“Go in through the front of the car,” he instructed as we both crossed the platform’s width, “and work your way back to me. With any luck she is seated in her compartment and will be none the wiser until we are at her door. But if you do come upon her, you must do your best to flush her back to me.”
I nodded before splitting off from his side and making my way to the front of the car. It was fortunate that the train was parked to the left of the platform so that the compartment windows faced out onto the tracks beyond rather than toward the platform itself. Unless she was traversing the hallway at this precise moment, there was no way she would spot me.
I seized the handrail and swung aboard, entering a small lounge area that served the compartments stacked behind it. Two men were seated at a table conversing over drinks, paying me no mind whatsoever, and this continued good fortune was enough to set my pulse quickening. A lady would never sit here on her own, and for that I felt great relief. We would catch Charlotte Hutton unawares and, for reasons I could not exactly put my finger on, I knew the outcome would be better for it.
With a quick intake of breath I made my way over to the side of the car where the narrow hallway stretched out from the lounge, and immediately spied Colin already planted just outside the door that young Ernie had indicated. He was standing stock-still in front of it, staring directly at it, and I could not help but wonder what thoughts must be racing through his mind.
His eyes shifted to me as I approached him, and he moved a single finger to his lips before, to my surprise, a tight smile broke out behind it. He said nothing, for there was nothing to say, but reached out and twisted the knob, pushing the door open with the simplicity of a man merely searching for his seat. I caught my breath, as though the very act of inhaling or exhaling might cause Charlotte Hutton to disappear or reappear, and whether there is any truth to such a notion, it was only after I saw the woman sitting by herself at the window, her gaze just beginning to swivel around, that I was finally able to expel the air I had been hoarding.
For an instant I thought we had failed as the woman before us had a hat pulled low over her head and what fragments of hair I could see looked to be a coppery color, and yet when those icy-blue eyes slid over me, I knew it was she. I cannot say what I had expected would happen when she saw us, but it was not the sight of the serene smile that slowly played at her lips. “You know,” she said after what felt like an interminable amount of time, “I was beginning to think you actually weren’t going to make it. How disappointing it would have been to make such a pedestrian retreat. Well beneath you, Mr. Pendragon.”
The train’s whistle gave another resounding blast as the two of us hovered in the doorway, Colin filling its slender frame while I loomed just behind him. If Charlotte Hutton intended to make some last-minute bid
for freedom, she did not seem the least anxious about doing so, though neither did she stand up. She was wearing the same black cloak that she had worn on both of our previous encounters. It was clasped at her throat but had otherwise fallen open to reveal an emerald-colored dress beneath that made a striking contrast to her newly auburn hair. The whole of it made her look different enough, yet even so, there was no denying that familiar beauty and those cold, remote eyes.
“I am glad we have not disappointed you then,” Colin said, his voice as calm and steady as ever, though I could feel the tension rolling off him. “Perhaps you would not mind joining Mr. Pruitt and myself on the platform so we may finally settle on the proper resolution to the many murders you left scattered about in your wake.”
“You already have Wynn Tessler convicted and awaiting the gallows. Is that not enough? Whatever is it you want from me? I have already confided to your Mr. Pruitt that I was every bit the victim of those who actually lost their lives to Mr. Tessler.”
I could feel Colin stiffen as he stared back at her. “You extorted an inordinate amount of money from innocent people and left without any regard to the murders of seven people including your own husband and young son. If you were really so tortured by your fear of Mr. Tessler, then I fail to see how, in the months since his arrest, you never came forward to assist in his conviction.”
“If you needed me to seal the fate of that monster, Mr. Pendragon, then I am afraid I must believe your reputation to be more fiction than fact.” She continued to stare at Colin, not even blinking, her voice coming as smoothly and easily as if we were conversing on the state of the weather. “I was terrified of Mr. Tessler, which is why I stole away with my daughter and whatever money I could get my hands on. You were certainly of no use in protecting my family. I had already lost my husband and son; did you want me to stay there until my daughter was taken from me too? Or perhaps you wanted me to wait there until I could be dispatched as well? Would that have consoled your vitriol against me?”
The Endicott Evil Page 31
