“And you sympathize with these radicals, these agents of destruction?” George Pierce’s voice was high with outrage. “You, a man charged with upholding the will of King and country?”
“I merely said, sir, that it must be hard on a man to have the skills he has labored his whole life to acquire suddenly valued at naught, and himself replaced by a machine,” Jack replied mildly. “The question of destruction and rioting is a separate one.”
“They certainly cannot be treated separately—”
“Dear me, are you talking politics in my drawing room?” Lily asked, pasting a smile on her face. The last thing she wanted was to get drawn into such a conversation with her father. “It is too beautiful a day for that. Captain Hartley, I hope you’ve not been waiting long for my return.”
“Not more than twenty minutes, I am sure,” Jack said, rising to offer her a gallant bow. He kept a remarkably straight face as he added, “And your father has been kindly entertaining me in your absence.”
Mr. Pierce snorted loudly, thumping his cane against the floor. “I begin to fear you have introduced unsuitable opinions—or perhaps unsuitable people—into your life. It is unseemly.” He gave Jack a withering glance before fixing his eye once more on his daughter. “I strongly advise you to reconsider allowing them in your home.”
“The opinions or the people?” Jack inquired politely. If Lily had been closer, she would have kicked him.
Mr. Pierce looked outraged. “Both, perhaps.”
“I could never bear to turn away someone who was so important in the life of my dear Freddy,” Lily said coldly. “Or who has been such a kind friend to me. Have you offered the captain any refreshment, Father?” she added, taking her seat.
Mr. Pierce snorted again, leaning heavily on his cane as he climbed to his feet. “I’ll not play at hostess for you, Lily. I leave you to such entertainments as you can find in your conscience to enjoy.” Shaking his head in disappointment, he thumped from the room.
“I wonder what entertainments he suspects we shall get up to,” Jack said, brows raised. “Do you think he means discussing politics? Or does he believe I intend something more dastardly?”
“Must you be so vulgar?” she demanded. Jack looked at her in surprise—normally Lily would have laughed at such a quip. This time she rolled her eyes toward the door. “He might be listening, and I am the one who has to suffer through his company at dinner tonight.”
Jack laughed. “My apologies. I shall do my best to maintain my company manners.” Growing more somber, he leaned forward. “I came to inquire whether you had heard anything from Mr. Page today.”
“No, nothing.” Lily frowned. “I had hoped to. But I did have a most interesting conversation in a tea shop when I was—”
At that moment, they were interrupted by Anna, Lily’s maid, who bobbed a curtsy from the doorway. At Lily’s nod, she stepped forward. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Adler, but there is someone here wishful of speaking with you.”
Lily frowned. “Well, for heaven’s sake, Anna, show whoever it is in. You know I am at home to visitors this morning.”
Anna hesitated. “It’s not properly a visitor, ma’am. Not as could come in the front door. There’s a girl in the kitchen who asked to speak with you. She said she’s a maid at the home of Sir Charles and Lady Wyatt. Her name is Ellen.”
Lily exchanged a startled look with Jack before standing quickly. “Did she say what she wants? Or who sent her?”
“No, ma’am, but I don’t have the sense that anyone sent her. She begged to speak with you. And she’s all aflutter. Keeps tripping over her words. I think she’s terribly upset about something.”
Lily frowned. Lady Wyatt had mentioned the other day, when she sent Percy away, that Ellen was distressed. But the girl she had met had not seemed the fluttery type; in fact, she had been ready to leap forward and take her brother’s part with Sir Charles when Thomas had been accused of theft. Lily was about to order Anna to bring the girl to her instantly, but she paused, reconsidering.
If Ellen’s visit didn’t come at the prompting of her employer, she might have something valuable to share about the circumstances of Sir Charles’s death. And while Lily would have been happy to interview the girl in the drawing room, there was every chance her father might overhear if they remained upstairs. That would never do.
She glanced at Jack. “Come downstairs with me, Captain. I expect that whatever the girl has to say, you ought to hear it as well.”
* * *
Ellen jumped to her feet as soon as they entered the kitchen, prompting a startled exclamation from Mrs. Carstairs, who had been presiding over the day’s baking. Both women curtsied, though Mrs. Carstairs returned quickly to her task, while Ellen looked down, then up, then down again, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.
“Ellen,” Lily said briskly. “I recall you from the Wyatts’ home. I hope you and your brother are both well?”
“Very well, ma’am, I thank you for asking,” Ellen said, her hands twisting together. “But it isn’t me or Thomas I wanted to talk to you about.”
“She wants to talk about the murder,” said the eager, gangly boy who had been sitting next to her, springing to his feet. Jack had taken the boy into his service after the latter’s employer, the shipping agent Hyrum Lacey, had died in the spring. The boy still gave the impression of being an utter ragamuffin, even though he was attired as a respectable servant. His curly dark hair needed to be clipped, and Lily could see that his pants were already too short for him. But he gave a smart bow, standing briskly at attention as he straightened. It seemed the captain had been working on manners with his young charge along with instruction in his other duties.
“Jem.” Lily greeted him warmly. “How good to see you again.”
Both Jack and Lily felt responsible for the boy. He didn’t know that even though his salary came from Jack, the money that covered the clothes he was constantly outgrowing came from Lily’s accounts, or that between them they had ensured that his sickly mother would never be responsible for any of her doctor’s bills.
Jem ducked his head, embarrassed. “Mrs. Adler, ma’am.”
“Still serving the captain well, I hope?” she asked.
“Indeed he is,” Jack said, winking at Jem. “Whenever I get my next set of orders, Jem is to come to sea with me to be my body man. I need someone I can trust aboard ship.”
Lily’s smile grew at the eager look on the boy’s face and his obvious pride at being called a man, even if the word was simply a description of a servant’s role. “I imagine you will like that, Jem?” she asked kindly.
“Oh, yes, ma’am!” He beamed. “Almost like being a lascar, like m’father. Mam’ll be so proud.”
The words tugged at Lily’s heart. From what Jem had let fall about his family, his mother was only barely sure of his father’s identity. She had once said he might have been one of the Indian sailors in His Majesty’s navy, and the boy had latched on to that idea with eager hero worship. It was partly why he was so thrilled to be in Jack’s service, and why the devil-may-care captain had such a soft spot for the clever little urchin he had taken under his wing.
But he was still a child, and Lily had no intention of pulling him into the questions surrounding yet another unnatural death. “If there is another murder, Jem,” she said sternly. “It may be none of my affair, and it is certainly nothing to do with you.”
“Oh, but Ellen’s already told me all about it,” he said eagerly.
Ellen cleared her throat at that, glancing over her shoulder at Mrs. Carstairs, then turned back to Lily, a pleading look on her face.
Lily understood. “Mrs. Carstairs, I wonder if you might give us a moment to talk in private?”
The cook-housekeeper, who had just wrapped her apron around her hands to pull a loaf of bread from the oven, looked up in surprise. “Of course, Mrs. Adler,” she said, her curiosity written all over her face, though she was too good at her job to ask any questi
ons. “If you’ll give me a moment to …” Juggling the hot pan, she slid the loaf onto the wooden kitchen table next to a plate piled high with fresh scones. “There, that’s done. Will you be needing anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
Mrs. Carstairs curtsied. “I’ll continue with the baking whenever you are done, ma’am.” She gave Ellen a quick, skeptical look before leaving.
Ellen watched her go, eyes wide, then glanced sidelong at Jem.
Lily caught the look. “Go with her, Jem. Ellen needs to speak with us alone.”
“But …” The boy looked pleadingly at Jack.
Who shook his head. “Out you go,” he said firmly.
“But what if you need my help?” Jem asked.
“Then we will ask for it,” Lily said. “Take a scone and make yourself scarce.”
Jem’s shoulders slumped, his face a picture of betrayal. But he still reached out and snagged two scones from the plate, letting out a squeak of surprise when he discovered they were still hot. Casting one more morose look at them, he trailed out the door.
Lily watched him go, then turned back in time to see Ellen eyeing the captain uneasily. “Do you have any objection to the captain staying while you share your information?”
Ellen hesitated, then shook her head. “No, Mrs. Adler. I recall he … you both helped my brother. I couldn’t go to them Bow Street officers, ma’am, not on my life. If the family found out I went there, I’d be sacked for certain. But I could pay a visit to another house. So here I am. You listened before when I said Thomas didn’t do anything. I’m hoping you’ll listen now.”
“I will,” Lily said, taking a seat at the table and gesturing for both Jack and Ellen to do the same. Selecting a scone from the plate, she pulled it apart, wincing at the hot steam, and gestured toward Ellen. “Would you like one?”
“No, ma’am,” Ellen said stiffly. She looked uncomfortable being there and didn’t take a seat even when Lily again motioned for her to do so.
“I would,” Jack said. He too had remained standing, leaning against the doorway. “Toss one over?”
Lily narrowed her eyes at him in an effort to persuade him to be serious—a useless attempt. He merely raised his eyebrows as if daring her. So she sighed and did as he asked. Jack caught the scone easily, and Lily turned back just in time to catch the surprised look on Ellen’s face.
“My apologies,” she said. “He is incorrigible, but I have a feeling this is not the moment for levity. You came to tell us something concerning Sir Charles’s death, did you not?”
Ellen shook her head, then just as quickly nodded, looking torn. “It may be. I couldn’t say for sure, ma’am. That is, I don’t think it has anything to do with his death, but I’m worried someone will make out that it does.”
“Start at the beginning,” Jack said gently, his playfulness gone. “We promise to listen.”
Ellen nodded again but hesitated, her hands twisting the folds of her dress. “Sir Charles has another son, and his name is Arthur,” she said at last, her words coming out in a rush. “He’s but sixteen and lives at home too. All the servants look after him somewhat, but he’s in my particular charge. I help him every day, and he’s the sweetest boy you can imagine, though not what you’d call friendly, not with strangers or those as discomfort him. But I’ve never known any harm in him, and I’ve been with him for years.”
Lily’s hands, at first busy with the scone, had gradually fallen still as she listened to Ellen. As the maid finished speaking, she demanded, “Why did no one say anything of this to Mr. Page?”
“He asked about other family members,” Jack added, looking baffled. “Why the secrecy?”
Ellen hesitated again, and Lily was surprised to see tears fill her eyes. “He’s not like other boys,” the maid said at last. “He never has been. The family says he’s feebleminded, but I don’t think that’s the case. He just doesn’t think quite the way the rest of us do. He doesn’t say much, he likes things just so, and he gets upset being around too many people. He’s well looked after, but outside the house, it’s like he doesn’t exist. The family doesn’t talk about him to strangers.”
“Not even when one of them has been murdered?” Jack asked angrily.
That made Ellen’s head snap up. “He had nothing to do with that. I told you, he’s the sweetest boy, and so bright, though of course his brother could never be brought to see that. Mr. Frank doesn’t much like being around Arthur.”
Lily held up a hand to silence them both. “If you are not here to say you think he was involved, then why are you here?”
Ellen swallowed nervously. “He’s acting … odd. Not like he usually does, I mean. He’s always a little odd. He seems nervous and upset. And Mr. Frank … he never comes to see his brother. But all yesterday he kept stopping by to see him, just to look at him for a bit without saying anything at all, then went away. It’s odd. It makes me jumpy.”
“Perhaps Mr. Wyatt is concerned about how his brother will handle the loss of their father,” Lily suggested. “The death of a parent might well prompt a change in familial feeling.”
Ellen nodded. “It might. But I’ve been in that house years. And it doesn’t feel right to me. I’m worried …”
They waited, but it seemed Ellen couldn’t bring herself to say it. Lily exchanged a puzzled look with Jack, who looked as serious as he ever did, then leaned forward. “Ellen, I promised I would listen. What are you worried about?”
“I’m worried that, whatever happened, someone will blame Arthur for it,” Ellen whispered. “Because he’s not like them. And if that happens, I don’t know what might happen to him. Please, ma’am. Please, Captain.” She raised her eyes to them, full of tears once more. “There’s something strange going on in that family. If someone does try to blame Arthur, I’m begging you, please, make sure them Bow Street police know he had nothing to do with it at all.”
The girl was trembling by the time she finished speaking, tears spilling over her lashes. Lily exchanged an anxious look with Jack, at a loss for how to comfort her. Trying to bridge the class divide between them could only make things more awkward. But she could offer her reassurance.
“We shall have to tell Mr. Page,” she said gently. “But—” She held up a hand to forestall Ellen, who clearly was about to burst out in more speech. “We will tell him exactly what you have related to us here. And Mr. Page is a fair man. As you are the person who spends the most time caring for young Arthur, I am sure he will trust your word.”
“What will he do with him?” Ellen asked, sniffing.
“Likely he will want to speak to the boy,” Jack said, holding out a handkerchief to her. After staring at him in wide-eyed astonishment, Ellen took it gratefully and wiped her eyes and nose. “But we will insist that he be gentle in his questions and defer to you for how to behave. And you’ll have time to prepare your charge for the interview.”
“He may not want to speak,” Ellen whispered. “He doesn’t, much.”
“We will tell Mr. Page that as well,” Lily said.
Ellen still looked nervous and unsettled, but she nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Adler.” She sighed, looking down at her hands. “I thought it best to tell someone rather than risk him being discovered, as if he was being hidden away because he’s guilty.”
“You did right,” Lily said briskly, standing. “And we will do all in our power to ensure that no harm or unmerited blame comes to him. But you,” she added, looking the girl over, “are too distressed to depart. Shall I call my housekeeper to come sit with you while you recover yourself?”
Ellen shook her head. “Thank you, ma’am, but no. I ought to get back—Arthur’s not used to my being gone so long.” She glanced down at the handkerchief in her hands, then back at Jack, her eyes wide. “I’ll see this laundered and returned to you, sir.”
“No need to trouble yourself,” he said, shrugging. “I’ve plenty more where that came from. And if things on Wimpole Street are in as distre
ssed a state as you describe, you may have need of it again in the next few days.”
Ellen let out an expressive sigh. “I don’t know what to make of them all, sir, truly I don’t.”
“Is there aught you can tell us about the family?” Lily asked, curious.
Ellen hesitated, and Lily instantly regretted asking. Ellen’s first loyalty was to her employers. She had confided in them to protect her charge, but asking her to reveal the family’s innermost secrets and tensions was a very different thing.
“Never mind,” Lily said, before the girl figured out how to answer. “You have told us plenty of use already. Thank you for doing so. And if you think of anything else we ought to know, you may write me here. I’d not want you to risk your position by coming again.”
“Yes, ma’am, thank you.” Ellen looked grateful as she curtsied. “There is one thing I can tell you—that new Lady Wyatt baffled me, she did. She and Sir Charles were thick as thieves when he was courting her, and they always seemed terrible fond of each other, spent hours and hours together. But …” Ellen lowered her voice. “Wilkes, Lady Wyatt’s maid, says that not a month after they married, Lady Wyatt began to refuse him her bed. And that she never let him return.” Ellen blushed. “I oughtn’t to have said that.”
“You never know,” Jack said, glancing at Lily, his look speculative. “We will take whatever information we can just now. You never know what might be helpful.”
CHAPTER 10
They made it out of the house without running into her father. Though on principle, Lily detested feeling as though she had to sneak around her own home, she had no desire for Mr. Pierce to discover where they were heading.
Their destination was Bow Street, where Mr. Page was currently attached as an officer of the Runners. Mr. Pierce would have disapproved mightily—and so, Lily knew, would nearly everyone of her acquaintance. Unlike the magistrate’s office at Great Marlborough Street, where she had visited before, Bow Street was located at the edge of Covent Garden, perilously close to the squalid neighborhoods of St. Giles and the Seven Dials. Though Covent Garden itself was an area of business during the day and entertainment at night, it was not a place a woman of Lily’s class was expected to venture. The Bow Street offices were even less so.
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