Page 25 of A Silence in Belgrave Square (Below Stairs #8)

“Not a sausage.” Hannah wrinkled her nose.

“Speaking of sausage, his lordship’s cook’s not good at those.

Charred on the outside, almost raw in the middle.

Nothing I’ll be eating. I have to say, when I worked in the same house as you, I dined well.

Until you interfered in my business, that is.

” Her eyes sparkled, our quarrel about that long since resolved.

“I too know a villain when I see one,” I said, then I sobered. “Have a care, my friend. These people will kill to protect their secrets. I have to wonder if the first secretary—Mr.Howard—discovered what they were up to? Saw something he shouldn’t?”

“I can try to find out. Discreetly—don’t you worry none.

If anyone offed someone, I’d say it was Fagan.

” Hannah shivered. “He don’t say much, but he’s a ruffian, good and proper.

Mrs.Proctor says he almost went down once, a long time ago, for beating a man.

But just before he went to trial, all the witnesses suddenly refused to swear what they’d seen.

Mrs.Proctor and the master both claim he’s reformed, but I make sure I’m never caught alone with him. ”

“Please continue to do so.” I poured myself more tea. “Now, you shouldn’t linger. Unless there’s something else I need to know?”

“I wish I could tell ya.” Hannah took a last sip of ale, made a face, and quietly dribbled the liquid into the corner next to the bench.

From the stains there, others had rid themselves of the insalubrious drink in the same fashion.

“Your man’s growing impatient with them too, I can tell. He wants to nick the lot and be gone.”

“I’d like him to be gone as well, but please don’t let him walk into danger.”

“I’ll do me best.” Hannah sighed. “You know, apart from me wondering if I’ll be found out and killed any moment, it’s not a bad place. Good wages, easy house to care for, and no one is demanding except for Lady Fontaine. Enough to almost make me want to turn my hand to honest toil.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I said.

Hannah chuckled. “No, it don’t.”

“Daniel knows I know you,” I said, recalling what Mr.Grimes had revealed to me. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if you speak openly to him. As long as you’re not caught, mind.”

Hannah looked dismayed, then annoyed. “I didn’t peach. Honest. Oh, I knew he were a clever lad as soon as I set eyes on him.”

“I know you didn’t say anything.” I laid a hand on hers. “But if Daniel can discover you’re there to spy, others can as well. Please take care, my old mate. If things become precarious, you go. Say nothing—just vanish.”

“Aye, I’m good at that. For now, it’s quiet. The blokes and lady who gather with his lordship, they don’t even argue with each other much.”

“Which makes me even more uneasy. Argumentative conspirators might never arrive at any course of action.” I released her. “Well, nothing we can do about that at the moment. Send word when you can. The boy who brings your notes—you can trust him?”

Hannah’s dimples pressed deeper into her cheeks. “Course I can. He’s me son, inn’t he?”

I blinked. “Is he?” I cast my mind back to my few encounters with the boy and realized that he did resemble Hannah. Same dark red hair—her natural color—same blue eyes. “You never said. How lovely for you.”

Hannah appeared both proud and exasperated at the same time. “He’s a handful, he is. And least said about his dad, the better. I shook his dust from me boots, like you did with your bloke.”

“I am so very happy for you,” I said warmly.

Hannah flushed. “As I say, a handful.” She climbed to her feet, grimacing as an older lady might, as though unbending her knees was painful. “But I loves ’im, I truly do. The wretch.”

* * *

Hannah departed while I remained seated, so that we would not leave together. We needed to be two strangers who’d shared a drink and then went our separate ways, having nothing more to do with each other.

I waited in the snug for another twenty or so minutes after Hannah had gone, sipping bad tea and reflecting what she had told me.

From her report, I was assured that Daniel had not yet been found out, but realized he was becoming impatient to find evidence to give Monaghan. That meant Daniel might do something rash, and I prayed he’d refrain.

It might be worth it for Hannah to cultivate her acquaintance with Lady Fontaine, a mine of gossip, for information.

Whether Lady Fontaine knew what her brother was up to or not, she might provide valuable insights on Lord Peyton and his cronies.

His next-door neighbor—Lord Downes, I recalled his name was—might be useful as well.

Mr.Fielding would have to help me there, as his man was already in place as groom to the neighbor’s horses.

The sooner we could help Daniel find firm information, the sooner he could come home and be out from under Mr.Monaghan’s thumb.

Not that I was convinced Mr.Monaghan would let Daniel go that easily. But I would fight with every weapon in my arsenal to get him free, including using Miss Townsend’s connection with the Home Office.

When I emerged from the pub into a rainy afternoon, I waved at Monaghan’s young constables who had tailed me, much to their consternation. I ignored my other followers and made for shops in Oxford Street, as though I’d merely paused to refresh myself before running more errands.

I dove into a secondhand clothing store and browsed its wares, hoping to find an alternative to my worn-out best frock, but nothing there that might fit me was to my taste. I thought they were asking rather a lot of money for the frocks as well.

I decided to try to find fabric and a pattern to suit me, and ask Joanna to sew a new one for me. I’d offer to pay her, and though she’d refuse, I could bring her children little gifts or bake extra treats for her and Sam. I’d compensate her somehow, whether Joanna liked it or not.

I did purchase a pattern book from a secondhand bookshop along the road. It was two years old, but I liked the look of the frocks illustrated inside.

Fabric was expensive, of course, and I’d have to dig into my funds and search far and wide before I found the perfect material I could afford.

So ruminating, I wound my way along the backstreets, smiling as I imagined the frustration of my followers. Mr.Monaghan already knew about my daughter and where she lived, so I didn’t bother trying to shake his constables, but I certainly didn’t want any villains near her.

At one point, when I turned from a tiny lane into Farringdon Road and plunged beneath the Holborn Viaduct, I heard a scuffle behind me.

I glanced back to see Mr.Fielding’s lads engaging two others I didn’t recognize.

The villains would be dangerous, but Mr.Fielding would have chosen boys who knew how to fight.

I took advantage of the distraction to reverse my direction and hurry north to the next lane, which took me to Smithfield. I had no need of the meat market today, but I wandered through it as though deciding from which butcher to purchase my next week’s provisions.

Mr.Fielding’s recruits did their job well. No one dogged my steps as I passed the pile of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital and emerged into Newgate Street. From there, I wasted no time hurrying along Cheapside to Clover Lane and shutting myself into Joanna’s cozy house.

* * *

The afternoon flew by too quickly. Once Joanna’s front door closed, I let myself become absorbed in Grace and her life. After assuring Grace and Joanna that my errand had gone as well as it could have, Grace clamored to see the pattern book I’d purchased.

I sat down in the parlor with a far better cup of tea than the pub had given me, and we pored over the book with Joanna and her two daughters.

Between the five of us, we chose a frock that would flatter my rather plump frame.

It had few frills but enough ruffles along the bodice and hem to please Grace.

To be honest, my heart sped with excitement at the thought of having a new and elegant frock that Joanna promised to sew to perfection. I wasn’t certain when I’d become such a frivolous creature.

When it came time to depart, I hugged Grace hard before I made my way through the damp twilight to Mount Street.

My followers found me when I reached the Strand, but as they must have already known where I lived, I didn’t bother trying to shake them this time.

I assured myself that Mr.Fielding’s lads and whomever Mr.Grimes had conscripted would work to keep me safe.

How ridiculous, I mused, to have so many following one innocuous cook about the metropolis. It would be comical, if some of them didn’t truly wish me harm.

Tess was in better spirits when I returned to the kitchen.

She’d seen Caleb today, as he’d not yet taken up his duties in CID, or wherever he would be, and had a long chat with him.

He’d assured her they’d be together as often as possible and that his elevated salary would let them do more, such as eat out on their days off.

“Fancy me in a Frenchy restaurant.” Tess laughed as she sliced mushrooms. “I’ll wager the food won’t be up to much. I’ll be sailing into the kitchen to tell the chef how much better you cook it.”

“The restaurant would chuck you out.” I began to peel and chop the onions I’d set out, knowing how much they made her teary. “Rather embarrassing for Constable Greene. I do not advise it.”

“Nor would I, Mrs.H.” A very familiar voice I hadn’t heard in weeks sounded behind me. “Though I can picture you instructing the chef yourself. Now, I’ve brought the potatoes you ordered. All right?”

Daniel McAdam, in a scruffy wool coat, breeches, and boots, dumped a heavy sack onto the floor of my kitchen and stood there grinning at me.