“Come along,” William said to Sir Morris, pulling him towards the tied horses. “Leave the bags.”
Sir Morris blinked at the bags of money longingly, his hands falling to his sides. The three of them marched back towards the horses, where William instructed Lord Arnold to go to the chief of police and meet him at the home of the Marquess. Together, they would storm the mansion, force the Marquess to admit his evils, and—hopefully—get him arrested.
“I need you to promise I won’t be executed,” Sir Morris blubbered to William as they walked along, with William gripping both him and the horse’s reins. “I’ve given you all I know.”
William’s annoyance felt like a bubble about to burst in his skull, but he forced himself to answer sombrely. “What you’ve done is absolutely wretched, Sir Morris, but you’ve also been truthful in your attempts to help. I will stand up for you before the axe falls. I can guarantee that.”
William and Sir Morris waited outside the gates of the Marquess’ estate for about 20 minutes before Lord Arnold arrived back with the chief of police. Behind them, three additional officers rode on horseback, wearing thick black helmets. On their hips were attached enormous iron rods. Sir Morris quivered beside William, seemingly fearful of the rods. Perhaps he’d been attacked before.
“Good evening,” the chief of police said to William. He slid off his horse and brought his hand forward, gripping William’s. “I hear you’ve discovered something quite incredible.”
“It was all him,” Lord Arnold said, beaming at William. “Coming to me with his grand scheme. I couldn’t have ever known …”
The chief of police turned his eyes towards the enormous estate. Candles flickered within, showing that the Marquess was, indeed, still awake, surely waiting for Sir Morris.
“So, this has been your nightly ritual, friend?” the chief of police asked Sir Morris, his cheeks growing hollow as he spoke. “Every night, you come here with the bags of money, stolen out from under some poor child?”
“That’s right, sir,” Sir Morris mumbled. His eyes turned to the ground.
“Come along, then,” the chief of police uttered, stepping in through the gates. He muttered to himself as though he wished he was anywhere but there. William had a sense that the chief may experience a good deal of flack, after arresting such a high-level member of society. This was the sort of thing most policemen were apt to turn the other way on.
Once they arrived at the front door of the Marquess’ home, the chief of police rapped on the door. Inside, the Marquess’ dogs howled. The sound was hollow and almost evil, as though generated from creatures straight from hell. William shifted his weight, eyeing Lord Arnold with fear. He prayed it didn’t display itself over his face.
The butler answered moments later, blinking out at the crew of six men. “May I help you, officers?” he asked, his voice formal and almost high-pitched.
“We’d like to have a word with the Marquess,” the chief of police said.
“That’s rather unusual. Can he be of help in some way?” the butler asked. His eyes turned to Sir Morris in an almost accusatory way. “If it has anything to do with this—creature—then I can assure you, whatever he’s told you is a lie. He’s been hanging around here for weeks. I’ve had to kick him off the grounds. In my mind, he’s no better than the thief who’s been robbing the Marquess.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sir Morris screeched. “And you know it, Timothy. You and I stayed up all night long last week, counting out the money I stole from those kids for the Marquess. He forced us to do it. I don’t know how much longer you plan on lying about this, but I can’t possibly do it a moment longer.”
The butler half-rolled his eyes, seemingly trying not to allow the others to notice. He creaked open the door slightly.
“If we may enter and speak with the Marquess,” the chief of police said, as though he hadn’t heard a word, “it would really save us all a lot of time. Don’t you agree?”
Finally, the butler pulled the door the rest of the way open, letting out a heavy sigh. He headed back into the parlour behind the foyer, saying, “Find him yourself,” before darting away, his feet flashing out behind him. It was clear he felt he would be a victim to whatever happened to the Marquess, as well. This was a valid fear.
“Only the guilty run,” the chief of police said. He tapped his nose with a firm finger, an alert to one of his men to rush after the butler and detain him. “We’re going to need his testimony about what’s really been going on around here.”
When they reached the Marquess’ study, the man was seated in his huge chair, facing back towards the window, with his long, cascades of hair whipping towards the collection of men in the doorway. The man’s long fingers snapped against the back of his skull, marking time.
“Marquess,” the chief of police said, his voice booming. “I hope you’ll give us the pleasure of seeing your face while we arrest you.”
At this, the Marquess cackled. The chair quaked around him. After a pause, he turned in his chair, arching his brow as he gazed at them, seemingly nonplussed. His eyes went from the chief to Sir Morris to William to Lord Arnold.
“I have to admit,” he said, “this is a far different crowd than I’d expected. Lord Arnold! Splendid to see you.”
Lord Arnold didn’t alter his face. The Marquess stood from his chair and tilted his head, grinning madly. “You know, I was only just at Lord Arnold’s estate, with Sir Morris, here. Well, really, it’s just Mr. Morris, isn’t it? But we shan’t get hung up on the specifics. It’s just cruel to do such a thing, isn’t it?
“Regardless,” the Marquess continued, striding back and forth at the far end of his desk, “we entered the Arnold estate because the Arnolds have a daughter. A young woman. Her name escapes me just now, but Sir Morris and I—yes, both of us—suspected her as the thief.”
At this, he directed his gaze towards the chief of police, his face growing deathly serious. “I don’t suppose you’d like to investigate that, would you? The fact that a young woman, no more than, what, 22? 23? Has been breaking into the mansions of men like me and stealing our things. Our hard-earned things!”
“And yet,” the chief of police said, blurting over the top of him, “it’s come to my attention that in fact, you’ve been stealing from the poorest and meekest members of this city. Look at you, casting blame on a woman, when in actuality, you’re the proper thief here.”
The Marquess’ smile was incredibly arrogant, surging with the belief that surely, surely no one could touch him. No one could alter his state of being.
“I don’t know where your proof is,” the Marquess continued.
“Sir Morris has told us everything,” William said, setting his jaw.
“Ah. And aren’t you—dare I say, aren’t you the very one courting the young Lady Arnold?” the Marquess asked, his eyes flickering. “I must admit, there are a few too many pots in the fire just now for me to get my head around it all. How did you know about the—hmmm.” He paused for a moment, seemingly knowing that anything he said would obstruct him, put him at immediate guilt.
Perhaps he did understand the depth of Harriet’s involvement. Perhaps he was right to suspect William. But William knew they had him pinned in a corner—that Harriet’s plan had been absolutely tight.
“Take him away, men,” the chief of police boomed.
At this, the two other men who hadn’t chased after the butler burst forward, gripping the Marquess’ arms. They tugged him towards the doorway. To William’s immense surprise, the Marquess didn’t yelp or cry out. Instead, his eyes tore towards William, seemingly dooming him to some sort of future in which he got his revenge.
But William sensed that the Marquess would never see the light of day again.
The chief of police, his two men, the Marquess, the butler, and Sir Morris marched from the mansion, leaving William and Lord Arnold alone, shifting their weight in the study of the Marquess. Lord Arnold sniffed, looking incredulous. He reach
ed across to the enormous desk, gripping an ornamental, vintage clock. It looked heavy in his hand.
“What do you think I should do, hmm?” Lord Arnold said, waving the clock about. “Steal it?”
William laughed, but the laugh felt hollow and strange. “No. It’s over.”
“Not even for Harriet?” Lord Arnold said. He gave William a sneaky look. “You don’t really think what the Marquess was saying was truthful, do you? About Harriet being the one behind the.. the stealing?” He bowed his head a bit, looking contemplative. “I don’t know why the Marquess would have brought such a thing forward if it didn’t have some bearing of …”
“I’m sure he was just reaching for any sort of explanation,” William said, shrugging. “There’s no relation between Harriet and the thief.”
“Although, I would be surprised if the thief continued after learning about what happened to the Marquess,” Lord Arnold said, stitching his brow together. “It’s a level of punishment even the thief couldn’t have imagined.”
“Perhaps,” William said. “Although I dare say, neither of us can truly comprehend what’s afoot in the thief’s head. Whatever he—or she—does next, I am rather certain it will be a surprise.”
“Perhaps you’re correct.” Lord Arnold paused for a moment, sliding his tongue across his teeth. “It’s rather difficult for me to imagine such bravery. I am a simple man, and I’ve filled my life with rather simple tasks. I am grateful there are people like this thief in the world, if only to remind me of how much more we all need to do to make the world a better place.”
William and Lord Arnold walked slowly back towards their horses, both seeming to swim in the chaos of their own minds. Once on horseback, William heard himself say, “I don’t suppose you mind if I return home with you, if only for a moment, Lord Arnold? I wish only to say hello to Harriet. After such a night, I want her to know that we’re all right.”
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Lord Arnold said, his face stern and difficult to read. “I know she’ll be so glad to know you’re all right.”
Chapter 34
Throughout the evening when William and her father were conducting her plot, Harriet found it terribly difficult to sit. She began pacing as her mother stitched by candlelight, her hands latched behind her back. As her mother hadn’t a single clue what her husband or William were up to—nor that they were together—she thought Harriet’s actions were quite strange and unpredictable.
She pursed her lips and dropped her stitching to her lap, shaking her head. “I can hardly focus with you acting like such a child right now, Harriet. Suppose that Lord Abernale asks for your hand in marriage—and you’re to give him children? Will you act like this alongside them—putting William at the mercy of yet another child, someone else he has to take care of?”
Harriet rolled her eyes. Everything within her felt all jumpy: her heart, her lungs, her stomach. She wished only that she could tell her mother the truth—that if all things went to plan, William and her father would be the ones to bring down the dreadful Marquess, once and for all. As it stood, she had only to witness one lecture after another.
When she finally heard the footfalls of her father outside, she darted from her bedroom, still fully clothed. She knew her mother had gone to bed hours ago and wouldn’t rise until the morning; that she was a kind of dead-sleeper, unwilling and unable to awake.
But Harriet fled down the steps, feeling as though she couldn’t possibly make her feet move quickly enough. Once in the foyer, she flung open the door, long before the butler could reach it, to find both William and her father before her. She couldn’t possibly decide which of them was more handsome, more wonderful to see. She longed to hug both of them, yet hung back, searching their eyes for information.
After a second’s pause, both of them gave her wide, child-like grins.
“Hello, darling,” her father said. He darted into the foyer, his belly bulbous and shaking. “Congratulate your father, won’t you?”
Harriet beamed at William. “Oh? Congratulate you on what?”
Her father spun around, still grinning, his cheeks blotchy and red from the ride. “This evening, William Arnold and I were at the core of taking down the Marquess himself.”
“Oh!” Harriet said, forcing her eyes to grow wide. “What on earth are you talking about? The Marquess?”
William placed a secret hand at her lower back, just for a moment, and then removed it. The memory of his warmth lingered on.
“William approached me with a plan that, I must say, I doubted initially,” her father continued. He brought up his hand and waved towards the study, saying, “I really can’t explain the story without a proper drink. Come along. Follow me. Both of you.”
Harriet found herself in her father’s study, sitting alongside the great love of her life and listening to her father take credit for the plan she’d concocted to take down the Marquess. She found herself laughing at all the right parts; making shocked expressions when her father paused, and clapping and cheering at the end—all to her father’s intense pleasure.
“That’s right, darling. Your father and Lord Abernale here are heroes,” her father said. He swallowed the last of his Scotch, snorting as loud as a pig.
Harriet turned her eyes towards William. “I really didn’t know what sorts of men you were until tonight,” she said.
“It’s clear that all those speeches you gave at dinner finally got to my head, Harriet,” her father continued. “At first, I thought all that morality stuff was a bit of a waste of time, you know. But now that I’ve taken the Marquess off the streets—of course, with the help of your wonderful associate William—I am apt to do even more good deeds. I can’t imagine life without it.”
“That’s wonderful, Father,” Harriet said.
“Perhaps we can collaborate further, Lord Arnold,” William said. He rose to his feet, his knees creaking a bit. “Goodness, I’m tired. It’s best that I bid both of you adieu.”
“You must come for dinner tomorrow to celebrate properly,” Lord Arnold said.
“I wouldn’t think of doing anything else,” William returned.
Harriet scampered up after William, giving her father a small wave. “I’m going to walk him out, Father.”
Lord Arnold was far too busy in his own thoughts to think twice. He bowed his head and allowed her to exit.
Once in the foyer, Harriet squeezed William’s biceps as hard as she could, leaping up and down on her toes and all-but shrieking with delight. His dark eyes beamed down upon her. His black curls were windswept and wild, making him all the more handsome. Harriet yearned to strip him bare, to take him against her naked frame, to inhale his warmth.
It would all have to come at another time—sometime in the near future.
“I want to hear your side of the story, William! You did everything perfectly,” Harriet whispered. “You’re absolutely astounding.”
“Come now. You heard your father. He did all the heavy lifting.”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” Harriet said.
They held the silence for a moment. Harriet bit down on her lip.
“Harriet, I’ve been thinking,” William said then. His eyes grew shadowed.
“What is it?”
“Everything you’ve done this summer has been absolutely incredible,” William continued. “No one, not your father nor your mother nor God himself, can truly understand what you’ve gone through, or how intelligent you are for conducting all of it.”
Harriet’s cheeks grew hot. “I only did what I felt was right.”
“And I appreciate that and love that about you,” William said, sounding hesitant.
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