Page 29 of A Silence in Belgrave Square (Below Stairs #8)

Having delivered his message, Adam started to turn to rush back up the stairs.

“Wait!” I all but shouted at him. “What does she mean? How? What happened?”

Adam regarded me with the arrogant impatience of ten-year-old boys. “I dunno, do I?”

“I need to speak to your mum. Can she meet me tomorrow?”

Adam’s eyes flickered at my knowledge that he was Hannah’s son, but he shook his head. “She’s got to stay in. No leave. Says her ladyship’s upset, and Mum’s not allowed a day out.”

From which I gathered that Lady Fontaine was distraught—and well, she must be—and refused to let any of the servants out of her sight.

“Will you tell Hannah to send word as soon as she can get away? We must confer.”

“All right.” He turned to go again.

I guessed that Adam could not read what his mother had written, or he’d not be so ready to dismiss it. He’d either be upset that his mother was in a house where a man had recently died, or he’d revel in the excitement of it.

“Adam,” I called.

He didn’t turn right away, reinforcing my idea that Adam was not his true name. I’d have to ask Hannah what it was.

“What?” he asked from three steps up.

I fumbled in my pocket. “Don’t you want your coin?”

“A bleedin’ ha’penny?” He regarded me with scorn. “No thanks, missus.”

“Very well, a penny this time. It’s more than I pay most of the messenger boys.”

“You gave Albie fivepence,” Adam said indignantly. He’d seen that, had he? And knew Albie, presumably.

“He was running errands for me, not simply bringing me a scrap of paper,” I said. “But wait there, and I’ll fetch you a bun.”

“Just the penny.” Adam held out his hand. He wore gloves, which were worn and stretched.

I held the coin between my fingers. “Well, if you’d rather go hungry than have a nice, fat, currant bun still warm from the oven…”

Adam hesitated, his appetite winning. “All right, then. Only if you’re quick about it.”

I returned the coin to my pocket. “Simple gratitude would not go amiss, young man. Stand there.”

I strode back into the kitchen and took up the currant bun I’d set aside in case Daniel came, wrapping it in a cloth. I returned to the outside stairs with both bun and penny but kept hold of them, knowing Adam would disappear the moment he had them in hand.

“Tell your mum that if she wants to go home, I’ll understand.” If Lord Peyton’s death had been murder, the police would swarm the house, and Hannah would do better to avoid them.

“She likes the wages,” Adam said. I at last handed him the coin and bread, which he snatched away. “Thank you, missus,” he muttered as an afterthought.

“Mrs.Holloway,” I informed him. “Look after your mum, Adam. She’ll need you.”

Another glower. “I always do.” He turned from me and stomped up the stairs, and this time, I let him go.

I closed the door on the cool night air and again studied the note Hannah had scribbled.

Lord Peyton was dead. Just like that.

Killed? Topped himself? Died a natural death? I’d never learned why he had to use a wheeled chair, except that it was some ailment that prevented him from walking. It might have been a wasting disease that had finally finished him off.

I could know nothing standing in the kitchen in the dark, but I wasn’t certain when I’d be able to discover anything further. Daniel was being sequestered by Mr.Monaghan, and Hannah was restricted to the Belgrave Square house.

Caleb might have been recruited by Monaghan, putting him beyond my reach. Caleb was a bright young man, who I knew could go far, but I wondered if one of Monaghan’s motives in taking him from his beat was so I could not use him as a resource.

“Drat,” I said with feeling.

In the morning, I’d send Albie, if I could put my hands on him, to spy on the Belgrave Square house and tell me all that happened. I’d instruct him to seek out the groom Mr.Fielding had put in place next door. Together the two must be able to give me some information.

I crumpled the note into my pocket, put away my things, and ate the second currant bun I’d left out—no sense letting it go to waste—before I took myself to bed.

* * *

I lay awake ruminating on the problems much of the night. Had Lord Peyton been murdered, and if so, why? Had he truly been the ringleader of an anarchist group funded by the Fenians? Or had someone in his circle been the anarchist, and Lord Peyton had found him out?

Lord Peyton had purchased the very ink used in the blackmail letters, and Daniel had addressed the envelopes, which meant the letters must have come from within Lord Peyton’s house.

Written by Lord Peyton? Or his sister, Lady Fontaine? Or one of his frequent visitors? Or one of the staff? Mrs.Proctor, the housekeeper?

I tossed and turned, beating my pillow in frustration. I hated having to wait to ask questions, but I could not rush about in the middle of the night, pounding on doors and demanding information.

As I’d worked hard all the day long, my body at last demanded rest. In the wee hours of the morning, I fell into a deep sleep, swimming awake in an awkwardly twisted position as sunshine touched my window.

I heaved myself from bed, wincing as my muscles unbent, and hurried through my ablutions. Today was Monday, my afternoon out, and I chafed to leave the house.

Downstairs, I raced through breakfast preparations, once again having most of it done before Tess entered the kitchen. I broke off my tasks a half dozen times to hurry up the outside stairs and down again, to Tess’s consternation.

“Everything all right?” Tess asked me when I returned from one trip.

I’d been searching for Albie, so I could set him to watch over Hannah. Tess eyed me fearfully, so I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, Tess. A man Daniel had been sent to observe has died, and I am at my wits’ end.”

Tess would learn of the death soon enough if the journalists were as quick on the scene as usual, so I saw no reason to keep it from her.

“Were he a crook?” Tess asked as she slathered butter onto the piles of toast. “Would be if they sent Mr.McAdam to watch over him. If he’s dead, it’s a good thing, inn’t?”

“A sudden death is never a good thing, Tess. But this is nothing for you to worry over.”

“I’ll ask Caleb,” Tess offered, then became mournful. “If I ever see him again.”

“He might not be able to help us anymore, that is true. But don’t fret so much. Everything will be well.”

I was placating her, and Tess knew it. Caleb’s new job could very well hinder their courtship, but I would have to tackle that problem later. Tess returned to buttering toast, downcast.

“Caleb adores you,” I told her, wishing I could comfort her. “He said he’d find a way for the two of you to be happy, did he not?”

I believed he’d let little stand in his way of seeing Tess, and she must also know this, because she gave me a wavering smile. I left her to it, and I charged upstairs to the street again.

To my relief, I saw Albie trotting my way. I waylaid him and told him what I wanted him to do.

“I was just coming to tell you the gentry-cove died,” Albie said. “His friends are cut up something awful over it. The Lofthouse people are packing for the Continent.”

“Are they, indeed?” Not suspicious at all, was it? I handed Albie his fivepence. “Here’s your payment, Albie. More when you tell me about what is happening in the Belgrave Square house today. Don’t forget to find the groom.” I’d described the man, though I had yet to discover his name.

“I know what to do.” Albie grabbed the coin but regarded me in a more good-natured way than Adam had. “I won’t let you down.” He shot me a grin and raced away, his legs in knickers moving in a flash.

I closed the door on him, wishing I could run off with him.

I had no more word from or about Belgrave Square as I worked to fix a light repast for Mrs.Bywater and Cynthia’s midday meal.

Mr.Davis was busy this morning and didn’t leave a convenient newspaper lying about, and I had no time to find one or ask him about articles in them regarding Lord Peyton.

The mystery of the viscount’s death remained just that, a mystery to me.

When at last I could depart for the afternoon, I changed my frock and bade Tess farewell.

“Save the hardest work for me, Tess,” I told her as I pulled on gloves and snatched up my basket. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Tess nodded at me, no doubt ready to be rid of me and my impatience. “Give my love to Grace and Mrs.Millburn,” she said, with a hint of her usual cheeriness.

I promised I would and hurried away, heading for Piccadilly and making my way east along it. I turned south at Haymarket and dodged crowds through Charing Cross until I reached Great Scotland Yard.

I didn’t bother with the sergeant at the desk this time but went straight to the edifice of the Public Carriage Office, intending to take myself to Inspector McGregor directly.

A constable in the courtyard moved to intercept me. Before I could begin to argue with him, a heavy hand fell on my arm.

I recognized the touch, so I did not struggle away. “I am here to speak to Inspector McGregor,” I informed him. “The Lofthouses are leaving for the Continent.”

“So it seems,” Daniel said.

“Of course you’d know what I rushed here to impart,” I said in annoyance. Truth to tell, I was quite happy to see Daniel, and anything he said would not dim my immediate joy. “Shall we speak to Inspector McGregor together?”

“No.” Daniel moved his grip to my elbow and steered me back through the courtyard toward the street. “I want you nowhere near Scotland Yard, in case Monaghan decides to detain you.”

I shot him a startled glance. “He would not dare.”

“In his current mood, he might. Now, it is your afternoon out—let us get you to Clover Lane.”

“Do not placate me, Daniel McAdam. I still have a friend in the Belgrave Square house, and it is my fault she is there. I must—”

“You must go to the Millburns’,” Daniel said firmly.