Silence in the Library

by Katharine Schellman

  Lily smiled, forgetting about her father for the moment. “It must be,” she said, letting Ofelia tow her to the settee and taking a seat beside her. “Because you look radiant. Either travel or marriage must agree with you.”

  “Both,” said Ofelia, laughing again. “And now I have the added pleasure of seeing my friends once more. We had not expected to be in London quite so soon, but Neddy’s sister has a young beau, apparently, that his mother does not quite approve of. She insisted we return as quickly as we could, before they had the chance to rush into anything, and now poor Neddy must decide whether he is going to be a dutiful brother or dutiful son.”

  “I do not envy him that choice,” Lily said, taking the opportunity to lift her head and look around the room at last. “Captain Hartley. Was it a coincidence that brought you here together, or did you have advance warning of our friends’ return to London?”

  “Neither,” he said, leaning back and crossing his legs, looking more relaxed than she had yet seen him in her father’s presence. “Lady Carroway sent her card and insisted I join her here to surprise you. She is a devious thing, as always.”

  “Do not listen to a word the captain says, Mr. Pierce,” Ofelia said, turning to bring Lily’s father into the conversation. “I haven’t a devious bone in my body.”

  The fact that she was able to say so with a completely straight face made Lily shake her head. The girl had caused no small amount of confusion and suspicion by concealing her engagement to Sir Edward Carroway when she and Jack were helping Lily to solve the Harper murders. And Lily knew, though Jack did not, that this was not the only secret Ofelia had been keeping that spring.

  But Mr. Pierce, apparently, was happy to believe the girl. He even smiled indulgently at her while Lily stared in amazement.

  “I do not doubt it, my dear,” he said, chuckling as he rose, leaning less heavily on his cane than he had the past few days. She wondered if he was genuinely feeling better or if he was simply in a better mood than usual. “I am afraid I must leave you to your friend, but I thank you for entertaining me so charmingly. And when you have the chance, I hope you will remember what I said and do your best to persuade your husband to take you to Italy.”

  “I shall certainly take your advice, sir.”

  “You see, Lily?” Mr. Pierce said, giving his daughter a sardonic glance. “There are those who find my advice worthwhile. And speaking of which, I need a moment of your time, if your friends can spare you.”

  Lily gritted her teeth. She wanted to say no, but it was probably best to get whatever he wanted to say over with. And this way she could use her guests as an excuse if she needed to cut the conversation short. “Of course, sir. If you will both excuse me?”

  “Captain Hartley.” Mr. Pierce and Jack nodded to each other in cool farewell, and Lily followed her father out into the hall, which was now empty except for the two of them.

  “Walk with me upstairs, Lily.” It was an order, not a request.

  “I have guests.”

  “And they will, I am sure, grant a moment of your time to your father. Do not make me wait.”

  Lily sighed but didn’t argue again. But she couldn’t bring herself to remain silent.

  “What is it, then, Father?” she asked as they made their way up the stairs. “I assume you wish to make disparaging remarks about my friends?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Meaning Lady Carroway, I assume?”

  “Yes,” Lily bit off, before taking a deep breath. “I’ll not be snubbing her, no matter what your feelings are on the matter, so you can save yourself the effort of ordering me to.”

  Mr. Pierce frowned, his mouth pursed as if he had tasted something sour. “I am offended that you would think me so foolish and shortsighted. I have always been glad that you cultivated such a close friendship with Lady Walter, and Lady Carroway is undoubtedly as beneficial an acquaintance. The Carroways are a particularly respectable family, with ties to the Earl of Portland, as I hope you know. And her father is, of course, a Devonshire Oswald, a family with its own impressive set of connections in our county and beyond. No, whatever else may be said of you—and there is plenty I could say—”

  “I do not doubt it,” Lily muttered.

  “—you choose your friendships well.” Mr. Pierce turned down the hall and continued toward his room, gesturing impatiently for Lily to follow.

  She gritted her teeth and did. “So your opinion is entirely based on their families, not on the women themselves?”

  He surprised her by smiling. “I might not have approved of Lady Carroway had she not been Lady Carroway. Only a fool says wealth and connections do not matter. But even I cannot deny the girl is charming. She reminds me of your mother, you know. Quite vivacious.”

  Lily stared at him, trying to ignore the hot surge of jealousy in her chest. Her father had never once said she reminded him of her mother. She was always too cold, too introspective, too everything he disapproved of. She knew there was more to Ofelia than her pleasant social mask, but for a moment she bitterly resented the younger woman’s ease and prettiness.

  “But that is not why I wished to speak with you.” Mr. Pierce stopped in front of the door to his room, his voice growing sharp as he pulled something out of his pocket and held it where she could see. “I want an explanation for this.”

  It was one of her cards. And not one of her everyday calling cards, but the same as the one she had shown Matthew Spencer that morning.

  “What were you doing snooping through my things?” she said.

  “I found it in the hall this morning. I expect you dropped it.”

  There was no way of knowing whether he was telling the truth, and Lily chose not to argue the point. She reached out to take the card from him, but he moved it out of her reach. Lily dropped her hand, seething inwardly but refusing to let him see that she was discomposed at all. She would not allow herself to appear any more childish than he had already made her feel by trying to snatch it from him again.

  Instead, she lifted her chin. “I really do not see how it is any of your business.”

  “You are my daughter.”

  “I am a woman grown.”

  “If you are involved in anything ridiculous, it reflects on me. I’ve a right to know.”

  Lily laughed abruptly, though there was no humor in the sound. “Only you, Father, would call a daughter who unmasks a murderer ridiculous.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What on earth do you mean?”

  “Oh, come now, Father. I know how you like to keep up with gossip and keep track of my affairs. Surely you heard whispers about me this spring.”

  “Those were rumors,” he snapped. “You would never be so foolish—” He broke off, waving the card around. “And this! What in God’s name could you mean by …” He trailed off, apparently unable to find words sufficient to describe his outrage. His face was mottled red.

  Lily sighed. “I was in a position to assist Bow Street and protect Lady Walter—whose friendship you so recently praised me for cultivating, if you will recall—from a potential scandal. Captain Hartley had those cards printed for me as a kind of encouragement.”

  “Encouragement?” Mr. Pierce’s eyes were so wide they looked as though they might pop out of his head. “To do what? Are you advertising? Are you working? Are you associating with those … those … constables?”

  Stung, still battered by his criticism and her jealousy, Lily didn’t care if she was being unwise. “I would have thought you had more respect for those who are investigating Sir Charles’s death. Or do you not wish to know who was responsible for your friend’s murder?”

  “Frank says it was a burglar.”

  “And you believe him instantly, of course.”

  “Why should I not?” Mr. Pierce’s face was flushed with rage, and his hands trembled around his walking stick. “When has he ever disappointed me?”

  “Never, of course. Unlike your daughter, the constant disappointment.”

 
“I am disappointed indeed that a child of mine would fraternize with such a low order of people, and not even with the intent of helping our friends.”

  “I am helping Arthur. Unless you want to see him blamed for his father’s murder?”

  “I cannot talk to you when you spout such nonsense,” Mr. Pierce said, throwing up his hands.

  “Then do not talk to me,” Lily snapped. “In fact, you may kindly remove your nose from my affairs—”

  “Mrs. Adler?”

  They both turned to find Carstairs standing a few steps down the hall, looking uncomfortable and apologetic. Lily wondered how much of their conversation—which had been conducted in heated whispers—he had heard.

  She turned her back on her father. “Yes, what is it?”

  “Mr. Page of Bow Street has arrived and asked to speak with you.”

  The timing could not have been worse. Lily could feel her father’s glare, but she refused to look at him. Keeping her expression as calm as possible, she nodded at her butler, though she could feel her face heating. “Please show him to the drawing room. I am sure he will be happy to see the captain and Lady Carroway again. And invite the gentlemen to pour themselves a drink while they wait for me.”

  “Gentlemen,” Mr. Pierce snorted. “That is questionable.”

  “I will return in a moment, Carstairs.” Lily waited for him to leave before turning to her father. “Was there anything else you needed from me?”

  Mr. Pierce opened and closed his mouth several times without saying anything; he didn’t look as though he was at a loss for words but rather as if there were so many things he wanted to say that he couldn’t figure out where to begin.

  “Then I will see you at dinner,” Lily said, making her escape as quickly as possible.

  “Lily!”

  The outraged hiss chased her down the hall, but she did not turn around.

  * * *

  “Mrs. Adler, what is this I hear? You have become involved with yet another dead body?”

  Ofelia’s playful demand met Lily as soon as she closed the door to the drawing room. The three of them had clearly made themselves comfortable waiting for her: Ofelia had poured tea and was nibbling at a slice of plum cake, while Jack had poured a glass of sherry each for himself and Mr. Page. The captain was lounging comfortably in the most overstuffed chair in the room, sipping from his glass, but the constable held his as he paced around the room, looking impatient.

  Lily raised her eyebrows, trying to put the conversation with her father behind her. “I see the men have gotten right to gossiping. Was it Mr. Page or the captain who started it?”

  “Me,” Jack said, raising his glass in a toast. “And Page is none too pleased about it.”

  “I dislike having my work treated so cavalierly,” the constable said, looking a little embarrassed. Glancing down at the glass in his hand as if he had just remembered it was there, he took a deep swallow and grimaced.

  “We are none of us cavalier about the matter,” Ofelia protested. “Not after what happened in April. And why are you here if not to seek assistance?”

  “Why?” Mr. Page fixed his eyes on Lily. His color was high, and he was clearly displeased. Lily met his eyes as she took her seat, refusing to be cowed. “Mrs. Adler knows why.”

  Jack eyed them both over the edge of his glass while Ofelia sat forward in her chair, her eyes darting between Lily and Mr. Page with eager curiosity.

  Lily nodded as calmly as she could manage. “I assume you received my letter?”

  “Your …” Mr. Page stared at her, then laughed shortly. “My God, I’d almost forgotten how angry I was over that. We’ll get to that in a moment, madam. First, I want to discuss the man who walked into my office today. I am sure you know who I mean.”

  Lily blinked at him. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  “Really?” Mr. Page snorted, draining his glass in a single gulp and setting it down with a thunk. He crossed his arms, eyes fixed on her. It was the most worked up she had ever seen him. “You have no idea that Mr. Hammond, a junior solicitor at his firm, walked into my office not one hour ago to present me with the will of Sir Charles Wyatt, saying that he had been persuaded by a lady of quality that it was his duty to assist my investigation?”

  “Well done, Mrs. Adler!” Ofelia exclaimed. “She really can persuade anyone of anything.”

  Lily could hardly believe her ears. “He made up his mind that quickly?”

  “So you did talk to the solicitor!” Mr. Page said triumphantly.

  “No.” Jack looked oddly relieved as he leaned back in his chair once more. “She talked to his cousin. So that was the result of your ride this morning?”

  Lily frowned at him. “What did you think I was doing, husband hunting?”

  “And please, as you suggested, let us return to that letter,” Mr. Page continued, ignoring their comments. “The letter which confessed that you stole Mr. Percy Wyatt’s address from my office, impersonated Lady Wyatt, and gained access to his chambers.”

  “You did what?” Jack demanded, starting to his feet so sharply that he nearly spilled his glass. “Lily, what were you thinking?”

  In the silence that echoed through the room while she was trying to formulate her reply, Lily heard Ofelia repeat, in quiet surprise, “Lily?”

  Jack’s neck and ears flushed a dull, dark red. “How could you take such a foolish risk?”

  “I am sure Mrs. Adler had a plan,” Ofelia said loyally. “And even if she did not, she is sitting here, well and unharmed, and you, Mr. Page”—her voice grew sharp—“now have a piece of evidence that, unless I am very much mistaken, you had great need of and no way to obtain. So perhaps you could both settle your impugned honor, or whatever has you so out of sorts, and take a seat long enough to talk rationally? And perhaps say thank you?”

  Her voice had risen at the end, and she glared at the two belligerent male faces currently looming over them. Lily felt a surge of warmth and gratitude. Once, she had been the one defending Ofelia. Now, even before her friend knew the full circumstances, she was returning the favor without hesitation.

  Ofelia’s admonishment had an instant effect. Jack looked even more embarrassed, and he turned away quickly to walk to the window while he regained his composure. Mr. Page cleared his throat and took a seat.

  He glanced at Ofelia, raising a sardonic brow. “Marriage does, indeed, seem to have agreed with you, Lady Carroway.”

  “A good puzzle will agree with me as well,” she said pertly. “Will you share what was in the will with us?”

  “With us?” His brows rose even higher. “I’m already uneasy enough about Mrs. Adler and Captain Hartley’s involvement. And I suspect your husband wouldn’t wish you to become embroiled in another murder.”

  “Fortunately, we are still in that delightful beginning of a marriage where Neddy finds it impossible to disapprove of anything I do,” Ofelia said, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to Lily. “So I might as well assist Mrs. Adler with her murder.”

  Mr. Page scowled. “I remind you, Lady Carroway, that it’s Bow Street’s murder.”

  “Of course, sir, that is exactly what I meant. But you cannot deny that a fresh perspective is often a great deal of help. You might as well include me too. Especially since I do not plan to leave anytime soon, and I have the feeling you wish to continue chiding Mrs. Adler too much to outlast me.”

  Lily couldn’t help laughing at that, and she was relieved to hear Jack chuckle from his place by the window. Even Mr. Page couldn’t help smiling. “You are incorrigible, Lady Carroway.” Then he sighed. “I’ll return to berating Mrs. Adler soon, but first, the will.” He fixed Lily with a stern expression. “How’d you manage that?”

  “I can be very persuasive, sir,” Lily said modestly.

  He gave her a sour look. “I’m familiar with that talent of yours.”

  “I will admit, though, in this case I did not expect it to bear fruit quite so quickly.” Lily leaned forward, her t
ea forgotten. “Will you tell me what it says?”

  Mr. Page sighed, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced toward the fireplace and back. “My superiors did not have high hopes for my success in this case,” he admitted. “With the lack of cooperation from the Wyatt family and their willingness to cast blame on one of their own, it seemed as though the entire matter would be too easily swept aside.” He paused, absently picking up and then setting aside several books that were resting on the mantelpiece without really seeing them. “I assume you have heard the rumors regarding the younger son of Sir Charles.”

  “Yes,” said Lily, sighing.

  “Seems after taking so much care to keep the boy and his condition hushed up, they were suddenly all too ready to publicize his existence and let him shoulder the blame,” Jack said, his tone bitter. “Did you see the boy, Page? What did you think of him?”

  “I agreed with his maid,” Mr. Page said quietly. “Arthur Wyatt didn’t seem at all likely to have harmed his father. My money would be on anyone else in the household before him.”

  “Which is how I persuaded Mr. Hammond’s cousin to say something,” Lily confessed. “I did not expect him to act so quickly, though I am glad he did.”

  “As am I.” The admission made Mr. Page sigh as he turned back to his small audience. “Before Mr. Hammond came into my office today, I fully expected to be told that I was done with the matter by the end of the day. Many of my colleagues …” He paused, looking grim as he sorted through his words. When he finally spoke again, there was an undercurrent of deep anger, though it was nearly hidden. Lily wondered if the others in the room heard it. “Many of my colleagues find the family’s insinuation that their odd youngest member was responsible to be reasonable. It’s the fate of many such children to bear the scorn and blame of those who should be caring for them. So I thank you, Mrs. Adler.”

  “Even if you are still unhappy with me?”

  “I am very unhappy with you,” he asserted, shaking his head. “But I don’t expect that to make much difference to you.” He cleared his throat, removing a folded paper from the inside pocket of his coat. “And since I’m alone among the Bow Street officers in my assessment of the matter, I’ll accept the offer of help you have made.” He glanced at Ofelia. “And the fresh perspective.”