“Good morning, Lady Margaret,” she said, somewhat surprised. She dropped the spoon in the bowl in front of her and wiped her hands on her apron. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I asked Violetta to bring me some nappies for Lucy,” Margaret said, absentmindedly glancing about the room.
“Did she then?” As Mrs. Aster crossed the room, she pointed a finger to the maid at the stove. “Don’t forget the bread in the oven then,” she said. The maid nodded, but said nothing as the cook left the room with Margaret.
They walked the length of the hall and ducked into the scullery. Mrs. Aster searched each cupboard in turn before spotting a pile of folded white fabric. “Here they are then,” the cook said, happily. “Shall I bring them up for you?” She pulled the fabric out and placed them on a table near the door.
“No, I can manage. Thank you.”
Mrs. Aster smiled and retreated to her kitchen. As Margaret bent forward to scoop up the nappies, her stomach lurched and she felt as if she were going to throw up. She closed her eyes and raised her hand to her mouth while she waited for the feeling to pass. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Violetta pass her in the hallway, heading from the front servant’s door.
Peering around the doorframe, Margaret watched as Violetta slowly opened the servant’s door. A dark figure stood on the other side but, from where Margaret stood, she could not see who it was.
She watched as Violetta pulled an envelope from her skirt pocket.
“Again in two days?” a familiar voice asked. The figure handed Violetta some folded bank notes, which the maid promptly slipped into her pocket.
“As always,” Violetta said softly.
By the time the maid closed the door and turned back into the house, Margaret was standing in the middle of the hall. “Who was that?”
Violetta’s eyes widened at the sight of her employer. “Lady Margaret. I didn’t realize you were down here. I’ll bring those nappies to you now.” Her tone was far more amiable than in recent days.
“I asked who that was.”
Violetta hesitated. She glanced to the door behind her while stammering. “I…don’t…”
Margaret darted past her and snapped open the door just in time to see Theodore Fenton, reporter with the Daily Telegraph and Courier, step from the metal stair to the pavement in front of Marshall House.
“It was you all this time,” Margaret said, closing the door and stepping back inside. “You’ve been selling family secrets to the society pages.”
Violetta started to back away slowly. “Now my lady, I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about.”
“I just saw Theodore Fenton leaving,” Margaret said, inching toward her. “I saw you give him something. What was it?”
Instinctively, Violetta’s hand went to the folds of her skirt, where her pocket was stitched into the fabric. “Nothing.”
Margaret charged for her just as Maxwell came down the stairs. Violetta let out a shriek when Margaret reached her. Grabbing Violetta’s hands, and pulling them away from her pockets, Margaret grappled with the maid, which sent them to the floor. Margaret could feel Maxwell behind her, trying to pull them apart, but Margaret was too filled with anger to end it just then.
“Hand it over,” she shouted as Violetta shrieked.
“Oh, get her off me, Maxwell. See her for the vicious vixen she is!” Violetta cried, trying to keep Margaret’s hands away from her.
Soon Mrs. Aster and her assistant were in the hallway as well.
“Goodness, my lady.”
Eventually, Margaret pressed the weight of her entire body into Violetta and was able to squeeze her hand into the maid’s pocket. Violetta struck her hand as Margaret caught hold of the money, which sent the individual bills into the air and littering the ground around them as they fell.
“How dare you! My father trusted you,” Margaret yelled. “I should have you horsewhipped.”
She fought off Maxwell’s hands while trying to subdue Violetta.
“Lady Margaret, please,” Maxwell called.
It was only when Aunt Louisa and Nathaniel rushed down the stairs that Margaret stopped. She was straddling Violetta, who was lying on the floor and sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m so sorry, my lady,” Violetta said. “I only needed the money for my sister.”
Margaret found herself unable to believe the pathetic reasoning. She loosened her grip on Violetta’s wrists and looked down at her piteously. “You could have asked for the money,” she said with disgust. “Does twenty-five years of service to my mother count for nothing?”
Margaret allowed Maxwell to help her stand.
“What is this then?” Aunt Louisa asked.
“I discovered Violetta selling father’s secrets to Mr. Fenton, of the Telegraph and Courier.”
Aunt Louisa’s face soured.
Maxwell helped Violetta to stand.
Heaving heavily to catch her breath, Margaret spoke. “You will leave this house at once,” she demanded, brushing away strands of hair that cascaded over her face.
“But Lady Margaret—”
“At once.”
Violetta choked back tears as she turned from the gathering and headed for the servants’ stairs, which would take her to her room, using the wall to hold herself upright.
Margaret turned to Maxwell. “See that this money is cleaned up,” she said. “You may take it to her in a short time.”
“Are you sure, Lady Margaret?” Maxwell asked.
Margaret surveyed the scene, each person looking at her in dismay. “Yes, she’ll need it.”
“As you wish.”
Margaret walked for the scullery and quickly collapsed in the first chair she spotted. Aunt Louisa and Nathaniel promptly came to her.
“Are you all right?” Aunt Louisa asked.
For some reason, Margaret couldn’t catch her breath. “Yes. I don’t know what came over me,” she said, closing her eyes. “I was just so angry.”
“Your reaction is understandable,” Nathaniel said, glancing to the door.
“How could I have been so blind?” Margaret asked. “She was doing this right under our noses.”
“Do not blame yourself, my dear,” Aunt Louisa said, reaching over and taking Margaret’s shaking hands in hers. “I will say this, however—you certainly remind me of your mother.”
Half an hour later, Margaret entered Great Scotland Yard on a quest to find Peter. He had a right to know what had happened and what she had done, even if he wasn’t able to affect a better outcome. Besides, getting out of the house seemed a likely solution to calm her nerves.
At the front desk sat a constable she remembered from before. “Cooper, is it?” she asked as she approached.
The young man smiled with surprise when he saw her and then took on a more professional expression. “Yes, ma’am, may I help you?”
“I’m seeking Inspector Simms. He’s working with my brother, Dr. Ainsley, but I don’t recall where they were to meet.”
“Inspector Simms is in his office, ma’am,” Cooper said, with slight hesitation. “Dr. Ainsley has not been in today.”
“What do you mean? Sergeant Fisher came to the house to collect him and one of our maids, Julia. He said Simms wished to discuss the case.” Margaret leaned into the desk. “Are you sure he didn’t leave at some point.”
Just then, Simms approached the desk, an open folder held in front of him. He looked up in surprise when he saw Margaret. “Lady Marshall, what are you doing here?”
“This young woman says you sent Sergeant Fisher to bring Dr. Ainsley in and a young woman—”
“Julia,” Margaret interjected.
Simms shook his head. “Not at all. I haven’t seen your brother all morning.”
Margaret’s expression fell.
“I know what’s happened,” Simms said suddenly. “Cooper, assemble all you can. We must get to Southwark, quickly.”
Chapter 27
The attic was a maze of wood planks and beams with low trusses and scarcely any light. Robert trailed slowly behind Ainsley, who was acutely aware of each breath and tiny moan from Robert. Halfway to their target, Ainsley wondered if it would have been better to have left Robert with Nelly and the other women. He was in a tremendous amount of pain and the crouching and crawling through the attic void would only be doing further harm to Robert’s already injured organs.
Finally, Ainsley stopped and turned to Julia’s brother. “I can take you back,” he said, pausing below a truss and holding onto the beam with one hand.
Robert shook his head and wiped some sweat from his brow. The attic was stifling hot, without any movement of air. Each breath was hard for Ainsley to pull and must have been excruciating for Robert in his present condition.
“Keep going,” Robert gasped. “Don’t pay any mind to me.”
Five minutes later they were crouched at an opening in the floor, indicated by a thin line of light that bordered a rectangular piece of wood. A tin box, about the size of a loaf of bread, was sitting on the opposite side of the attic opening. Curious, Ainsley reached for it but froze when the beam of light turned dark. Squinting, Ainsley could see someone below them, walking around in Thaddeus’s office.
Ainsley raised a finger to his lips and looked to Robert, who nodded in acknowledgement. The sweat dripped wildly from their faces as the heat threatened to cook them like a Christmas goose. Ainsley prayed Thaddeus would leave his office soon so that they could get some fresh air at last. His prayer was answered when moments later the light beam returned and the sound of determined footfalls made their way across the room below. They strained their ears and concentrated on the sound of Thaddeus’s door closing, the latch of the knob tapping into place.
Gingerly, Ainsley pulled at the board and stole a peek into the room. Empty. Feet first, he lowered himself down and stood on the solid desk in the middle of the room. “Hand me that tin,” he said to Robert before he was able to follow him. Robert passed it down, careful not to let the metal box drop, and then moved to slide through the gap himself.
Ainsley saw Robert wince as he stepped down from the desk and then the man doubled over with an arm pressing into his left side.
“Robert?” Ainsley crouched down on the desk before jumping to the floor.
Robert waved him away and a moment later he was standing upright again.
The lid of the tin box opened easily and inside Ainsley found a few pocket-size notebooks, with tiny, detailed writing inside.
“These are his books,” Robert said, flipping through one. “He writes everything in here.”
Ainsley had to fight the urge to read them then and there and instead slipped the books into his inside pocket. “Watch the door,” he said, nudging his chin to Robert.
Robert went without argument and stood at the centre of the door with his ear to the wood. Hurriedly, Ainsley opened each of the desk drawers and even reached up under the bottoms. Nothing. He dropped to his hands and knees and looked beneath the shelves as well as under Thaddeus’s chair and still he found nothing.
Ainsley balled his hand into a fist, supressing the urge to yell. He couldn’t be so close and leave empty-handed. The man could singlehandedly destroy his life by revealing that gun to the authorities. More than enough witnesses had seen him use it. By itself the pistol was enough to bring an investigation to his door that even Simms could not ignore.
And then Ainsley saw it, an iron grate screwed into the floor just under a table behind Thaddeus’s desk. When Ainsley moved closer he could see the screws were missing and that simply lifting the grate was enough to access the void. He wasn’t able to look directly into the hold but he could reach his arm in up to his elbow and felt around.
“Yes!” His exuberant hiss was muted by the fact that his face was pressed into the hardwood floor.
Ainsley heard the door open.
Robert landed a quick jab to Thaddeus’s face before pulling the man in and closing the door. Although caught off guard, Thaddeus fought back, landing a right hook into Robert’s side.
“You fucking bastard.”
Thaddeus growled as he tried to push Robert to the floor but Robert stood his ground and was able to shake Thaddeus off him with enough force to send him into a shelf along the wall. The shelf teetered but didn’t fall. Thaddeus scowled and took a step toward Robert but Ainsley cocked the pistol and pressed it into Thaddeus’s temple.
“I will not hesitate,” he said.
Thaddeus put up his hands slowly. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Where is she?” Ainsley asked, moving to face Thaddeus, who only shook his head. The expression on his face betrayed his confusion.
“Who?”
“Julia!” Ainsley stepped forward, pressing the gun into the front of Thaddeus’s cheek.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Ainsley kicked up his elbow and landed a hit to Thaddeus’s jaw.
Thaddeus faltered and stumbled. “I told you, I haven’t seen my wife in a year!” He raised a hand to his lip and patted at the blood.
“You sent a carriage for us this morning,” Ainsley yelled, stepping closer and pressing the barrel of the gun into Thaddeus’s cheek. “Sergeant Fisher, he works for you.”
“Yes, but”—Thaddeus let out a breath, looked to Robert and then back to Ainsley—“I never sent him for you. I told you I haven’t see Julia in months. She left me. I don’t chase after women.”
Ainsley gave a sideways look to Robert, who looked equally confused. “You picked me up and forced me to fight in your ring,” Robert said. “That wasn’t to force Julia to come find me?”
“You owed me,” Thaddeus said, his mouth folding into a sneer. “And I needed someone I haven’t used in a while.”
Ainsley’s heart raced as he stood there, keeping Thaddeus in the corner. All this time he had thought Thaddeus was trying to pull Julia out of the shadows. He figured it was some sick plan for revenge.
“Who killed that man in Belgravia?” Ainsley pressed.
“Jeremiah,” Robert offered. “My friend. You sent your boys to my house. You scared my wife. They told me you called in my debt. Why?”
“Look it wasn’t me, all right? Perhaps you don’t understand, I don’t give a fuck for that woman. She killed my brother and I don’t blame her for that, but I certainly ain’t going to share my bed with her anymore. When she walked out that door I knew she was as good as dead. It’s a miracle no one else killed her just to get to me.” Thaddeus pushed the barrel of the gun away. “Are we done here?”
Ainsley pulled the trigger. A bullet ripped into the wall over Thaddeus’s shoulder as Ainsley pushed him back. “I told you I’m not bluffing.” He glanced to Robert, who despite much cooler temperatures compared to the attic, was still dripping sweat from his brow and hairline. Ainsley needed to get him to the hospital or he would surely die.
“Let’s go.” Ainsley gestured for the door, and pulled Thaddeus away from the wall by the collar. With the pistol pressed firmly in between Thaddeus’s shoulder blades, Ainsley guided him out into the empty hall and led him toward the stairs.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and made their way across the courtyard to the main gate. A quick scan of the place revealed only a handful of people, all easily subdued once Thaddeus instructed them to lower their weapons. He said nothing, only signalled with his hands, and they all obeyed.
“I told you I don’t know anything,” Thaddeus said, allowing them to guide him to the main door at the side of the gate. There’s no need for the gun. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Ainsley could hear him smiling through his words. “Like the last time you said I could go?”
“That was just so you knew who was boss.” Thaddeus pivoted, grabbed Ainsley’s wrist, and pushed his arm to the ground. Ainsley used his free hand to hit Thaddeus in the face and then pushed up his chin before taking hold of his throat.
Without letting
go of Ainsley’s arm, Thaddeus used his body to block Ainsley’s hits. The struggle brought them to the ground, and sent the firearm sliding across the cobbles.
Only able to pull one arm from his body, Robert tried to pull Thaddeus away, but was clocked in the face and sent backward into the brick wall. The pair were a mess of elbows and fists, each man fighting for control, sending dust into the air about them. Ainsley tried to crawl for the gun and felt the desperate hands of Thaddeus pulling at his body, pinching his arms in a vise-like grip and hitting his kidneys wildly.
Ainsley could feel the metal of the gun just inches from his grasp but the gun kept sliding from his fingers. He used his legs, kneeing Thaddeus in the stomach and then groin, while growling his frustration.
Men with guns drawn began to stream out from various doors heading into the courtyard.
Click.
Ainsley brought the butt down into Thaddeus’s face and scrambled to his feet.
Below him, Thaddeus writhed in pain. Blood gathered above his eye, where Ainsley had hit him. Thaddeus’s men, Fisher and Delaney included, glanced to each other, unsure how to handle the threat.
“To your knees,” Ainsley yelled, glancing up at the gathered crowd. “I said, to your knees!” He pressed the barrel into Thaddeus’s temple just beside his gash.
Thaddeus laughed as he pushed himself to his knees. Allowing the gun to slide over his blood-streaked faced, Thaddeus turned to reveal a wide smile. “Do it, Doctor.” He erupted in laughter and inched closer to Ainsley, pressing his forehead into the gun. “I said, do it!”
“Peter, we should go,” Robert said. “We need to get help.”
Ainsley pulled at Thaddeus’s collar, dragging him to his feet. “Let us leave,” Ainsley said, addressing the crowd, “And I won’t have to kill him.”
The men with guns, four by Ainsley’s count, resighted him but remained where they were.
Robert skirted ahead, still clutching his lower ribs, and unlatched the main door.
“Walk.” With his back to the door, Ainsley guided Thaddeus backward, away from the group and toward the alley that would allow them to go free.
Prayers for the Dying Page 21
