“And I wonder—” Lily broke off as a clamoring noise arose in the hall outside, shouts and the sound of crying. She and Lady Wyatt both stared at the door, alarmed.
“What in the world?” Lady Wyatt’s expression suddenly grew closed off and irritated. “Can there not be any peace in this house?” she said, rising suddenly and crossing the room to throw the door open.
Lily followed, bemused, and found a heartbreaking scene. A young boy was sitting in the middle of the hallway, his legs crossed under him, his hands over his ears while he repeated, “No, no, no,” at the top of his lungs. A frantic maid hovered around him, tugging on his arm and trying to pull him upright. As Lady Wyatt stormed onto the scene, the maid redoubled her efforts.
“Now see, Master Arthur, you’re disturbing folks, you are. It’s time to go upstairs. We’ve had a nice time outside, but—”
“No, no, no,” the boy sobbed, shaking his head and pulling away from her clutching hands.
Lady Wyatt glared at the scene in front of her. “Can you please control him?” she snapped, pressing a hand against her temples. “All this racket is going to bring on a headache.”
“Begging your pardon, Lady Wyatt, but you know what he’s like when he’s in one of his moods.” The maid grabbed Arthur’s arm again, tugging, but he snatched it away.
“Don’t touch,” he sobbed. “I want Ellen to come back.”
“I told you, Master Arthur, Ellen can’t come back, and we all miss her, but—”
“Just get one of the footmen to carry him up if you can’t handle him yourself,” Lady Wyatt said. “And don’t bother trying to explain things; he’ll never—”
“He is upset, madam. Give the poor boy a moment, please.”
Lily had been so focused on watching Lady Wyatt and Arthur, unsure what to do or if she could be of any help at all, that she had missed the arrival of Percy Wyatt, who now came rushing up the stairs and down the hall. But he slowed when he came near them.
Sparing the maid only a momentary, irritated glance, he ignored her anxious attempts to explain, pushing past to crouch next to Arthur. “And all of you stop yelling, please. You know he dislikes loud noises.”
Lady Wyatt let out a loud sigh. “Then why is he making such a racket?”
Percy gave her an admonishing stare. “Because he is distressed. First his father and now his companion have died. Surely you can find it in your heart to be a little kinder. You, what’s your name?” He turned on the maid, scowling.
“Mary, sir.”
“Go away, Mary. I will take my cousin upstairs when he is ready.”
The maid hovered anxiously for a moment more before seizing the opportunity to flee. Lily watched as Percy settled down next to Arthur and put his hand palm down on the floor, not otherwise moving or speaking. Once the hall was silent again, Arthur removed his hands from his ears and looked around. When his eyes fell on Percy, a look of relief spread over his face. A moment later, he placed his own hand on top of his cousin’s.
“There now,” Percy said gently. “What upset you so?”
Arthur glanced at his stepmother, then hunched his shoulders. “I want Ellen.”
“I know,” Percy said. Lily was surprised by how softly he spoke, no trace of the impatience he had shown the maid remaining. “She was a good friend.”
“She was a good friend,” Arthur repeated. He straightened for a moment, then hunched his shoulders once more, glancing at Percy anxiously. “Ellen says I’m to be quiet like a mouse,” he whispered. “She told me all would be well if I was quiet like a mouse.”
“Then pray do so,” Lady Wyatt snapped. Arthur hunched his shoulders even further, a low, anxious hum beginning in his throat, and Lady Wyatt threw up her hands in exasperation. “Give him some of Frank’s laudanum, if you must.”
“He doesn’t need laudanum,” Percy said. “He needs patience.” He glanced up, his irritated gaze settling on both Lady Wyatt and Lily. “You may withdraw, if you wish,” he said. “I will stay with him.”
Arthur shook his head, still humming. “Don’t want to stay with Winnie.”
“You do not have permission to call me that,” Lady Wyatt snapped.
“Aunt,” Percy warned.
“If I have not given you permission, I certainly have not given it to him!”
“Aunt.”
Lily watched the exchange, trying to keep her interest from her face. It seemed her father had been right when he advised Sir Charles that the new Lady Wyatt might be unhappy to learn she would be taking on the role of mother to a child like Arthur. It made Lily sad to watch, but it didn’t surprise her. Too many women would have felt the same.
What did surprise her was Percy Wyatt’s gentleness and competence with his cousin.
“Whenever you are ready, Arthur, we shall go upstairs.” Percy glanced at his aunt. “You needn’t worry about him bothering you again.”
“I hope not,” Lady Wyatt said stiffly. Turning, she gestured for Lily to precede her back into the room. Lily did so, glancing only briefly over her shoulder. Percy Wyatt still sat on the floor next to his cousin, apparently content to wait until he was ready to stand and go upstairs.
“I apologize for the scene.” Lady Wyatt sighed once the door was closed. “He has become so unmanageable since his father’s death.” As they sat down once more, she sniffed. “Quiet like a mouse. One can only hope.”
Lily contrived some reply, but she wasn’t sure what she said. She was too distracted by the cold prickle of realization that was making its way down her spine.
Ellen says I’m to be quiet like a mouse.
She told me all would be well if I was quiet like a mouse.
Lily had been too distracted by watching the interplay of family dynamics to pay much heed to what Arthur said. But she had a sudden, horrible suspicion that he might just have revealed something important.
She had been assuming Ellen was killed because she had known something important, something the killer didn’t want revealed. But if she had been warning her charge into silence, that meant she wasn’t the only one with incriminating information.
Arthur had been the one to see or hear something dangerous. And whoever the killer in the family was, if they found out, Arthur would be in danger as well.
* * *
Lily wasn’t sure how she made it through the rest of her visit with Lady Wyatt. When she finally received word that her father was ready to leave and was able to excuse herself, it was all she could do to bid farewell politely and follow him out the door, where Frank Wyatt had summoned his carriage to convey them home.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost missed the forlorn figure making its way down the street. Excusing herself for just a moment, she stepped away from the groom who was waiting to hand her into the carriage.
“I shall only be a moment, Father.”
Mr. Pierce grumbled as he allowed the groom to assist him to his seat instead but didn’t try to stop her.
Lily hesitated before putting herself in the approaching man’s path.
“Thomas.”
The footman looked up, his eyes red with grief as he stared at her blankly. “Madam?”
Lily took a deep breath. “We met briefly before. I am Mrs. Adler. And I wanted to tell you how truly sorry I am about your sister’s death. She was a lovely young woman.”
Thomas shuddered, his eyes closing briefly as he nodded. “Very kind of you to say, Mrs. Adler. I apologize for not recognizing you, but I remember what a help you were to me.” He seemed lost for a moment, his gaze wandering to the house, before he recalled himself and looked back to her. “Thank you for the condolences.”
He was waiting for her to step out of the way. Lily hesitated, wanting to leave him alone in his grief. But she wanted to find his sister’s killer even more. “I am sorry to take up your time, Thomas; I know you must have many things to prepare for your return to Devonshire. But Mrs. Harris said your sister had a particular friend, Edie, who
left for a new position. Is there any chance you know how to find her?”
“Edie?” Thomas’s expression grew wary. “Begging your pardon, but what could you be wanting with Edie?”
He was tense, suddenly, in a way he hadn’t been before when he was thinking only about his sister. Lily cast a glance at the groom, who was staring politely into the distance but wasn’t too far away, and stepped closer to Thomas.
“Did your sister tell you she came to see me when she was worried for Master Arthur?”
She kept her voice low as she spoke, and Thomas followed her lead.
“She did.” His eyes grew wide, shock piercing his grief. “Was she right? She’d never forgive me if I let something happen to him now she’s gone.”
“I think she might have been. And finding Edie could help me. Can you tell me who her new employer is?”
Thomas dropped his voice even further. “Edie didn’t have a new employer, ma’am. Ellen told me Edie had to leave because she’d got in trouble and couldn’t hide it any longer.”
Lily caught her breath. “Do you know who the baby’s father was?”
Thomas shook his head. “Edie kept it mum. All she would ever tell my sister was that it was one of the Wyatts.”
* * *
“Which one of them do you think it could be?” Ofelia asked, scooting a glass of her husband’s sherry across the table toward Lily, though she drank only tea herself.
“That is the question.” Lily took a long drink before resuming her pacing around the room. She had given Thomas all the money in her purse before she left—“to help with the cost of taking her home,” she insisted when he tried to protest—then suffered silently through the carriage ride home, listening with half an ear to her father’s complaints about London traffic.
She couldn’t call on Jack at his home, and it was too late in the afternoon to seek out Mr. Page. But Ofelia was glad to help her talk through the thorny details. And her father had been only too happy to hear that she was going to pay a call on the wealthy, connected Lady Carroway.
“And does the fact that one of the maids was in the family way actually change anything?”
“The answer to that, I think, depends on the first question.” Lily stopped in front of the empty fireplace, her brows knit in thought. “We already know there is some woman in the question of Percy Wyatt, and that he has not been completely honest about his behavior.”
“Which, if he were the father, could account for his nighttime excursions. You said he was surprisingly capable with his young cousin,” Ofelia mused. “Perhaps he is easier with children than adults. In which case, he might be a caring father who is sneaking out at night to visit his onetime paramour and their love child.”
Lily rolled her eyes at her friend. “You say that far too casually for a girl your age.”
“I am a married lady now,” Ofelia pointed out with pretend primness. “And you are the one who keeps lending me sensational novels.”
“A fair point.” Lily resumed her pacing. “So, if Percy is the father, that could exonerate him. Unless providing for his child was one of the reasons he was falling into debt. In which case he might be driven to murder in order to do so.”
“But why not simply ask his uncle for assistance?”
Lily grimaced, stopping to take another drink. “So, if the child is Percy Wyatt’s, that makes him less likely to be guilty. And I don’t see how Frank being the father has bearing on it one way or another.”
“Unless Sir Charles disapproved of his son’s conduct. Or his nephew’s,” Ofelia said thoughtfully. “If he was a stickler like your father—they were friends, after all—he might have been disappointed enough to threaten to cut off either one of them. In which case, the baby’s father might have killed him to protect his inheritance.”
“But Frank’s whereabouts are accounted for.” Lily frowned. “Or nearly so. I don’t know if Jack has succeeded in confirming that he was out all night.”
“All right, then, what if Sir Charles was the father?” Ofelia made a face. “You are making me dizzy, you know, trying to watch you pace like that. Do old men do that sort of thing?”
“Frequently,” Lily said, flopping down into a chair. Though both Ofelia and her husband were extraordinarily wealthy, they had chosen to rent a small townhouse near Hanover Square rather than share the family home with Sir Edward’s mother and younger sisters. Lily was grateful that the arrangement allowed her and her friend to speak so freely. “And I have heard that Sir Charles was quite a skirt chaser, both when he was younger and when he was between wives.” Remembering the gossiping ladies, she added slowly, “And I heard he might have an illegitimate child tucked away somewhere.”
Ofelia sat up abruptly. “Could Lady Wyatt have killed him when she discovered that he had a natural son or daughter?”
Lily thought about Lady Wyatt’s coolly regal bearing. “She doesn’t strike me as the sort to object to her husband’s amorous activities, so long as they occurred before he was courting her.”
“And if they occurred after?”
“That would be another story entirely,” Lily agreed. “And according to the maid Ellen, Lady Wyatt began refusing him her bed not long after they were married.”
“Then we need to find this girl and determine when the babe was conceived.”
“Someone does. If we can figure out where she has gone.” Lily frowned, turning her now-empty glass between her fingers as she thought the matter through. “There is another possibility, if Sir Charles was the father. If he tossed her out when he found out she was pregnant … or if Edie was not a willing participant in their affair …”
Ofelia’s eyes grew wide. “You think she might have been the one to kill him.”
“It is not impossible.”
Ofelia set down her teacup decisively. “Which makes it even more urgent that someone find out where she has gone.”
* * *
Simon frowned at the papers on his desk. As one of the more experienced members of the Bow Street force, he had the use of his own office. But that experience didn’t seem to be doing him much good this time.
He could feel Captain Hartley’s eyes on him as he paced around the room, but to Simon’s relief, his guest didn’t say anything else after reporting what he and Mrs. Adler had discovered at the Wyatts’ house. Instead, the navy captain leaned back in his chair, feet planted wide and hands clasped behind his head, silent but watchful.
Simon cleared his throat. “I’ll send a chemist I trust to the house. He’ll know how to recognize arsenic, and how to clean up the room so it’s safe for the other servants.” He paused by his desk, fiddling with the papers there and frowning. “But I don’t want the Wyatts to know about it.”
“I can have Jem introduce the chemist to the housekeeper,” Hartley suggested. “She said she would let you come in by the kitchen to see Ellen’s room—I assume that applies to your chemist as well.”
“Good.” But Simon’s frown didn’t move.
He had discussed the case with some of the other Runners—Simon’s mouth twisted at the term, which none of the Bow Street force liked but the public insisted on using—and they all felt he was wasting his time. The family didn’t want him interfering, they’d pointed out, and were uninterested in paying for his time and trouble. Better to focus on cases where the income was worthwhile and the investigation had some chance of success. And even the Bow Street magistrate he had consulted, Mr. Nares, was inclined to accept the explanation that young Arthur Wyatt was likely responsible for his father’s murder.
“Poor child,” Mr. Nares had said, shaking his head. “I’m sure he did not know what he was doing, but that does not change the facts of the matter. No doubt the family will find as pleasant an institution as possible where he can be secluded and kept from harming anyone else.”
Simon didn’t agree. But trying to force his way past the family’s defenses felt like racing through a dark street only to find himself confronted by a
brick wall at every turn. And then banging his head against that wall repeatedly.
Lady Wyatt had been home the night of her husband’s murder. She’d had the opportunity to kill him. But she was not a large woman. As Mrs. Adler had pointed out, dragging the heavy body across the room without leaving any marks would have been almost impossible for her. And she had been gone from the house for two days, a fact confirmed by a quick conversation with the butler on his way out and a visit to Lady Wyatt’s mother in Hans Town. She couldn’t possibly be responsible for Ellen’s death.
Frank Wyatt, with a significant fortune coming his way, had far more motive than Lady Wyatt to kill his father. And that might make him want to get rid of his brother. If Arthur were committed to an institution, Frank would have control of his share of the inheritance as well. And so far, Hartley hadn’t been able to trace his movements the night of Sir Charles’s murder. If he had sneaked back into the house at some point …
And then there was Percy Wyatt. Simon frowned, starting to pace around the room once more. Percy had lied about where he was the night of his uncle’s death. While Mrs. Adler and her friends might be right that a man like that wouldn’t kill for the prospect of one hundred pounds a year, that only mattered if the crime had been carefully planned. If Percy had also been lying about his conversation with Sir Charles, if his uncle hadn’t pledged to pay his debts but had instead planned to cut him off, he could have acted on impulse and killed in a panic.
And who was the strange man Frank Wyatt had paid off, the one with the scar? According to Hartley, Mrs. Adler had asked the housekeeper about repairs for the house and she hadn’t known a thing about them. So Frank’s story that the man was a disgruntled laborer looked like a fabrication.
But was it a fabrication that had anything to do with his father’s death?
Simon paused in front of his desk, staring down at his notes.
He needed to know more. And to discover it, he was going to need help.
Silence in the Library Page 24
