Silence in the Library

by Katharine Schellman

  Lily scowled at him. “What on earth is so amusing?”

  “Simply thankful I have no household to manage.” He shrugged and bent down to her level. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you know anything about the outcome at the Oaks Stakes at Epsom?”

  “Horse racing?” Jack looked baffled. “What the devil do you want to know about horses for at a time like this?”

  “Answer the question, please. Did anyone lose unexpectedly this week?”

  Jack stared at her. “As a matter of fact, one did. Read about it this morning. One of Lord Templeton’s racers, name of Irish Boy or something like that. Lot of people lost money on that race when he stumbled on the turn. The Duke of Grafton’s three-year-old, Minuet, placed first.”

  Lily let out a satisfied sigh. “Was the horse named Dublin’s Boy, perhaps?”

  “That would be the one.” Jack looked at her sharply. “How did you know that?”

  Her smile grew. “Captain, will you do something for me?”

  “Certainly, though you are annoyingly mysterious.”

  Lily patted his arm sympathetically. “I expect you’ll figure it out in a moment. In the meantime, find Mr. Percy Wyatt and do not let him leave the house.”

  “Find …” A grim smile spread across Jack’s face. “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  He left so quickly that the door banged shut behind him, and the others in the room jumped, suddenly remembering that they were not alone.

  Frank turned to Lily. “Is the captain well?” he asked.

  “He is.” Lily stood, dusting off her dress. “I apologize for interrupting, but I have rather an important question, Sir Charles.” He frowned, clearly irritated, but gestured for her to continue. “Do you know of any moneylenders in the neighborhood of the Seven Dials?”

  “Do I know of any …” Sir Charles’s brows snapped together. “Lily—Mrs. Adler—I have no dealings with moneylenders or with that appalling neighborhood. And if I did know any, I would not share that information with a lady such as yourself.”

  “I am not asking for my own benefit, sir. In fact, though I have never had cause to deal with him personally, I know there is one by the name of Mr. King.”

  “The fellow who backs the horse races?” Frank asked, frowning. “Mrs. Adler, I really think—”

  “That one precisely, and I am glad you are able to confirm his reputation, Mr. Wyatt.” Lily nodded in satisfaction. “Sir Charles, Thomas did not steal your money.”

  They were all staring at her again. Even Lady Wyatt had opened her eyes. “Mrs. Adler?” Frank asked, hesitating, when no one else said anything.

  “Your footman is innocent. I am afraid it was your nephew who stole the money.”

  “Percy?” Sir Charles shook his head. “Surely not. I provide him a generous allowance.”

  “Which I expect he exceeds greatly, like all young gentlemen.” Lily shook her head. “Just one of those waistcoats must have cost at least thirty pounds. And he hasn’t even the money on hand to keep food in his lodgings.”

  “But—”

  Sir Charles was interrupted as the door banged open to reveal a grinning Jack hauling Percy in with a hand around the back of the younger man’s neck. “Look at who I found trying to hurry out the door,” he said, as cheerfully as if he were inviting them to fireworks at Vauxhall Gardens. In his other hand he held Percy’s writing portfolio.

  “Take your hands off me!” Percy’s cheeks and neck were red with embarrassment and anger as he struggled to free himself. “And return my things to me at once—you have no business … Those are my personal letters …”

  Ignoring his continuing protests, Lily took the portfolio that Jack handed her. She admired the workmanship for a moment, then opened the case. A slow smile spread across her face. “Tell me, Sir Charles, how much did you have in that drawer?”

  “Seventy-six pounds.”

  “What a strange coincidence.” Lily offered Sir Charles the portfolio. “That is exactly the amount Mr. Wyatt has here.”

  “That isn’t—” Percy tried to protest but was cut off when Jack shook him firmly by the scruff of his neck.

  The captain was still grinning broadly; even a glare from Lily didn’t dim his enjoyment. “He seemed in a dreadful hurry to leave the house,” Jack explained. “I asked where he was going, and the chucklehead tried to run for it. Stupid trick to pull. Boys in the navy run as fast as those who work on land, you know.” He shook Percy again, looking cheerful. “Figured it out as soon as he tried to run and brought him straight back here.” He bowed to Lily.

  “But … Percy, why the devil …” Sir Charles shook his head, at a loss for words.

  “He planned to win back his money before anyone knew he was in debt.” Lily said. “I imagine you took the money Mr. King lent you—”

  “How the devil do you know about King?” Percy demanded.

  “Try not to interrupt, Mr. Wyatt.” Lily shook her head. “You are in enough trouble already; forgetting your manners will only make it worse.” He stared at her, mouth agape. “Now, where was I?”

  “Mr. King,” Jack said helpfully.

  “Thank you. As I was saying, you took the money Mr. King lent you and went to the Oaks with your school chums.” She raised an admonishing eyebrow at Percy. “You really ought to be more careful about snatching carriages, Mr. Wyatt. There is always a chance the people you steal them from will remember what you were discussing. I imagine Mr. Wyatt was one of those unfortunates who lost his whole purse when Dublin’s Boy stumbled on the turn.” Lily tried to sound authoritative, though she knew next to nothing about horse racing. She could feel Jack holding back laughter but refused to meet his eyes. “Of course, that put him in trouble with Mr. King, who was expecting to be paid, and who no doubt would go to you, Sir Charles, if he did not receive his money.” She glanced at Sir Charles. “I imagine you would be displeased if you discovered he was in debt?”

  “He will be lucky if he gets any allowance at all after this,” Sir Charles said coldly. “And if I do not hand him over to the law first.”

  Percy went from red-faced to pale so quickly it was almost comical. Lily shook her head. She could guess that Sir Charles would never subject his family to such public embarrassment, but Percy was too overcome to realize that.

  “But Mrs. Adler,” Sir Charles continued, “one question you have not answered. How the devil did he get the money at all? Are you saying my nephew can pick locks?”

  “If I thought he could do something half so clever, I would not suspect him of such a clumsy robbery in the first place. No, he simply used the spare key you keep on the lintel above the door, then put it back when he was done. Though it seems he was silly enough to leave a drawer not only unlocked but open.” She shook her head. “You really should have a more careful hiding place. Even I noticed it, and I was not planning to rob you.”

  They all, even Jack, stared at her in astonishment. Lady Wyatt began to laugh.

  CHAPTER 4

  Given the way she hadn’t hesitated to interfere in the Wyatt family’s affairs, Lily expected Lady Wyatt to politely rescind her invitation to ride the next morning. But she had insisted, saying her arm was sure to be better by morning. So after breakfast, Lily instructed Anna to lay out her riding habit.

  Though she had forgone her usual routine of breakfasting in her own room and instructed Mrs. Carstairs to lay breakfast in the parlor, Lily hadn’t seen any sign of her father. She didn’t mind. If she couldn’t be cozy while she dined, she was at least happy to be alone. And it gave her the opportunity to go over the week’s menus with her housekeeper and offer several suggestions for managing her father’s requests while he was with them.

  “And do you know how long might that be, Mrs. Adler?” Mrs. Carstairs asked carefully. “Mr. Branson was unable to say when I spoke to him last night.”

  Lily pursed her lips. “For as long as he needs, Mrs. Carstairs. Or as long as I can bear his company. My record on that score is f
ifteen years, however, so let us hope it will not come to that.”

  The housekeeper wisely didn’t say anything else.

  Lily’s pleasant solitude lasted until she was making her way back upstairs to change, when she found her path blocked by her father’s belligerent frame. Unwell he might be, but George Pierce was still a solid, imposing man, and Lily had to remind herself to square her shoulders and meet his scowl with a smile as he did his best to tower over her from the step above.

  “Good morning, Father.”

  He didn’t return the greeting. “I am going to breakfast,” he announced, eyebrows raised.

  Lily waited for a moment and then, when no more information was forthcoming, nodded. “I hope you enjoy it. Mrs. Carstairs is an excellent cook.”

  He sniffed. “And I assume your excessively early rising is an attempt to avoid my company?”

  “It is past nine o’clock, father,” Lily said. “Hardly excessive. And I have an appointment this morning, so if you will excuse me—”

  “What is your appointment?”

  He couldn’t curtail or dictate what she did with her time, Lily reminded herself. Even if having him in her home left her feeling as if her independence were being slowly stripped away once more, in practical terms he had no say in her life anymore. Answering his question was only polite. “An engagement with a friend—”

  “That sailor again, I assume?”

  Lily took a deep breath. “Captain Hartley was also invited, but no, the engagement is to ride with Lady Wyatt this morning. Which I assume you would approve of?” Seeing that she had momentarily surprised him into silence, she took the opportunity to push past her father. “You would like her, I think. She is charming and elegant.”

  “And her husband’s a fool for marrying again,” Mr. Pierce grumbled, but Lily was already heading down the hall and didn’t answer.

  Jack was coming just before ten to escort her to the Wyatts’ house, and Lily was in a hurry to dress and escape her father once again. Her room was empty when she walked in, but Anna had laid out her riding habit on the bed, pressed and ready, its military-style buttons glinting in the morning light amid folds of emerald-green fabric.

  Lily stared at it without moving. She had forgotten that her habit wasn’t suitable to wear when she was in mourning.

  She was still staring when Anna returned, the freshly brushed riding hat in her hands. When she saw Lily’s posture, Anna paused.

  “You don’t have another, I’m afraid,” she said gently.

  Lily nodded, unable to speak. One hand reached out to brush the heavy fabric of the habit; the other clenched a fold of the gray dress she wore. She had stopped wearing colors even before Freddy died—in those last months of his illness, she had traded all her pretty dresses for drab gowns more suited to nursing an invalid who would never recover. And even after full mourning was complete, she had lingered in the muted shades of half mourning long past when anyone would have required it of her, even Freddy’s own family. Laying aside the visual reminders of her grief felt too much like leaving behind her marriage.

  But that had meant more than two years of sorrow. And in the last few months, since she had come to London and taken control of her life once more, something had shifted inside her.

  “Yes, thank you, Anna,” Lily said quietly, her voice catching a little. She cleared her throat and said, more firmly, “I will wear this one.”

  * * *

  She managed to leave the house without encountering her father again. When Carstairs sent word that Captain Hartley was waiting in the front hall, Lily felt a pang of anxiety. Jack had loved Freddy like a brother. And he had never given any indication that he thought her mourning had gone on long enough.

  Jack was in the middle of removing his hat, and his hand stilled at the brim as he caught sight of her. Even Carstairs fell still as they watched her come down the stairs, the heavy folds of her green skirts buttoned up on one side to allow her to walk freely and a single dyed-green feather curling over the brim of her hat and flirting with her brown curls.

  Lily felt exposed as she descended the final few steps, though she was bolstered by the approval that softened Carstairs’s smile. She had never considered herself a shy person, but she could barely meet Jack’s eyes as she crossed the hall to give him her hand.

  For a moment neither of them spoke, and when she raised her gaze at last, Lily thought she saw the captain blinking something from the corner of his eye. “That was Freddy’s favorite color,” he said at last, his voice catching.

  Lily nodded. “I know.”

  Jack’s jaw tightened for a moment as he swallowed. But he smiled. “Well done, Lily,” he said quietly. “Good for you.”

  * * *

  There was a lightness between them as they made the quick journey to Wimpole Street. As Jack waved down a hack carriage and handed her in, Lily found herself laughing at all of his quips or droll pieces of gossip, even the ones she normally would have chastised him for repeating. And Jack kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

  “Do I look that dreadful?” Lily asked at last as he handed her down from the carriage in front of the Wyatts’ home.

  “Quite the opposite,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he released her hand. “Did you know, you are actually quite pretty?”

  “You mean you did not find me pretty before?”

  “I think I had forgotten to consider it one way or another,” Jack admitted, grinning. “What a shame everyone has left London already; you would cause quite a sensation.”

  Lily shook her head. “I know full well I am not handsome enough for that.”

  “Surprise can cause as much of a sensation as admiration,” Jack pointed out.

  “Captain!” Lily exclaimed in mock indignation. “You were supposed to argue with me!”

  They continued bantering as they mounted the steps to Sir Charles’s townhouse, only to fall silent and exchange a puzzled glance as they realized that the door was half-open, the sounds of raised voices echoing from within.

  Lily glanced at Jack, an uneasy sensation beginning to curl in the pit of her stomach. “Should we knock?”

  He shrugged and did so, rapping firmly on the wood of the door. There was no response, but it swung open a little more. After hesitating a moment, Lily bit her lip and said, “Well, we ought to at least make sure Lady Wyatt knows we’ve come. If it is no longer convenient to ride, she can certainly tell us to leave.”

  “And you were already happy to interfere yesterday,” Jack pointed out, though she could hear the unease lurking beneath his playful tone. “We might as well do it again.”

  “Very true.” Lily pushed the door the rest of the way open and strode in, Jack following close behind.

  The front hall was empty, but they could still hear voices not far away, now low and urgent, and the sound of quiet crying from somewhere just out of sight. The uneasy feeling began to spread through Lily’s chest and arms, and she reached out her hand in blind anxiety. She was relieved to feel Jack take it and press it reassuringly into the crook of his arm.

  She had just decided that they should leave after all when quick steps echoed down the stairs. A moment later Frank Wyatt came rushing down, checking himself at the bottom as he stared at them in surprise.

  His face was pale and his eyes red as he gaped at them, his easy manner vanished. “Lily? And Captain … I’ve quite forgot your name. You must excuse … what are you doing here?”

  “The door was open, and no one answered our knock,” Lily said, feeling a little ashamed of their hastiness in entering. “I apologize, Frank; we did not mean to intrude, but we had an appointment to ride with Lady Wyatt this morning. Is everyone well?”

  “Is everyone … No. No.” Frank gripped the banister with one hand, his knuckles white. “I am afraid that Lady Wyatt will not be able to ride today. My father …” He swallowed. “My father has died.”

  Lily stared at him, unable to make sense of his words.
They had seen Sir Charles just the day before. If he had seemed a little older and weaker than she remembered, he had still been utterly vital and alive. “Died? But … how?”

  “In point of fact,” a new voice said quietly from behind them. “It seems Sir Charles Wyatt has been killed.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The man who emerged from the library should have looked out of place in the Wyatts’ elegant entrance hall. But he carried himself with confidence, as if he were a frequent visitor in the houses of his superiors—which, Lily knew, was not entirely untrue. His clothing was too professional for a guest but too well made for a servant. His accent was neither cultured nor deferential, his age neither old nor young. His appearance was in almost every way unremarkable—except for his eyes, which took in the shocked tableau with a quick, intelligent gaze.

  He was the last person Lily would have expected to see, and she very nearly opened her mouth to say so. But those perceptive eyes caught the motion, and the man gave his head a minute shake.

  She saw it, though, and obeyed the unspoken request. If he didn’t want Frank Wyatt to know they were acquainted, she wouldn’t give it away yet. Jack, she could see from the corner of her eye, had noticed the silent exchange and was holding his tongue as well.

  Neither of them had completely hidden their surprise, of course, but that wouldn’t matter. A suggestion of murder was reason enough for anyone to look shocked.

  “I will thank you not to say such things, especially in mixed company,” Frank was saying, oblivious to the undercurrents between his guests. “We have no reason to believe my father suffered from anything but an extremely unfortunate accident. Mrs. Adler, Captain, I apologize. Mr. Page is here from the Bow Street offices, and his presence is, I assure you, a mere formality.”

  “As you say, Mr. Wyatt,” Simon Page said. It seemed he had learned something about dealing with the members of London’s upper classes since Lily had first met him. Where he once would have bristled at Frank’s presumption, Mr. Page simply nodded and accepted the correction, though his expression lost none of its shrewdness or determination. “But I am afraid I cannot allow you to have visitors in the home until I have made a thorough observation of the premises and questioned everyone in residence.” His eyes glittered a little as he added, “As a mere formality.”