Page 32 of A Silence in Belgrave Square (Below Stairs #8)

“I was pleased when they chose me to join,” Daniel confessed. “At first, anyway. When I realized that Monaghan used it as an excuse to thrust me in front of every hazard he could, I was less happy, but I’m good at this, Kat. I’ve found villains and saved people from harm.”

He had indeed, well I knew.

“So Monaghan will release you only when you’ve endangered yourself to his satisfaction?” I demanded. “He promised to when you were finished with Lord Peyton, and now you are finished.”

“He promised, if I got a result,” Daniel corrected me.

“Which I did not. Something is brewing, Kat. All the signs are there. Peyton, I am willing to believe, had nothing to do with it. His friends might have, but so far, they all seem to be exactly what they appear to be. And now Peyton is dead. Very suspiciously.”

“Inspector McGregor said he wasn’t pushed.”

“True, but there are ways to kill a man without touching him. I will have to look at the postmortem results.”

“Inspector McGregor also told you to stay out of it,” I reminded him.

Daniel sent me a grim smile. “I don’t answer to McGregor, remember? Or his superiors. I advised Monaghan, when he stopped raging long enough to listen to me, not to pull all his watchers from that house. There is something…”

I knew there was something amiss as well, of which Lord Peyton’s death was part, though I had no details as to what. “Hannah is still there. She can have a nose about.”

Daniel shook his head. “Send word to her to go. Two people have been killed. If anyone tumbles to the fact that your Hannah is not actually a maid, she will be in grave danger, and I’m no longer there to protect her.”

“She actually is a maid,” I said. “At least, she was, years ago. She is also the best confidence trickster I have ever met, even beyond you and Mr.Fielding. I will warn her, of course, but if she chooses to stay, she would be of invaluable help.”

Daniel blew out a breath of exasperation. “I can’t stop her doing anything she likes, I suppose. Or you, apparently.”

“My dear Daniel.” I slid my arm through his and rested my head on his shoulder. “You never could.”

* * *

Daniel did not accompany me inside when we reached Mount Street. We shared another kiss in the hansom, which I insisted let me off around the corner, and once I’d descended, Lewis took Daniel on.

I hoped Daniel would heed Inspector McGregor’s advice and stay home for a bit while Monaghan cooled his temper, but I knew Daniel well. He might rest for a few hours but be out again trying to find answers.

For my part, I had my own resources and fully intended to use them.

Monaghan held enmity for Daniel, and I wagered he’d not be satisfied until Daniel died to assuage Monaghan’s grief and anger.

There was no way I’d sit back and let Monaghan take his vengeance.

If my efforts could help release Daniel from his bargain, then I would act.

Once I’d resumed my work dress, I took up a basket of scraps from the day’s cooking and went back out into the now dark evening.

I found Mr.Fielding’s lads straightaway. They approached when I beckoned, and I handed them a tea cake each—Tess had baked a nice batch this afternoon.

“Do you know the boy who sometimes seeks me?” I asked them. “Scruffy clothes, dark red hair, blue eyes. Goes by the name of Adam, though I do not believe that is his true name.”

“Yeah, we knows ’im,” the black-haired boy said. “Slippery little eel, but we’ll catch ’im.”

“Politely,” I said. “He is the son of a friend of mine. Please bring him to me—I need him to deliver a message.”

“Right you are.” The second boy touched his cap and sped into the darkness. The first paused long enough to shove an entire tea cake into his mouth, then he sprang after his friend.

I shook my head, handed out the rest of the scraps to the men and women who gathered, and returned to the kitchen.

“I might have to change me day out to Wednesday,” Tess told me unhappily when I joined her at the work table. “Caleb thinks that will be his day off, but he’s not certain. He might not be able to take any time at all, at first.”

“Who will he be working under?” I asked, as though offhandedly. “Inspector McGregor?”

“He won’t tell me.” Tess scowled at the bread dough she kneaded. “He’s gone all secretive.”

“It could be he doesn’t know. Those higher up in the police don’t impart information to one and all.”

I meant to comfort Tess, but I wondered anew if Monaghan hadn’t clamped hold of Caleb. I hoped Inspector McGregor or perhaps someone like Sergeant Scott could make certain Caleb didn’t work in this special Irish branch Daniel had told me about.

The work they’d been set up to do was important, I recognized. I was all for stopping explosions in railway stations and on streets—but I did not want Caleb to forfeit his life for it. Tess hadn’t had much happiness in her years on this earth, and losing Caleb would crush her.

Tess continued to be sullen, and I left her alone. I couldn’t tell her all would be well when I had no idea if it would be.

I sent Tess to bed early, as I usually did when I took my days out, and finished up sitting alone in the kitchen, making notes in my book.

Culinary problems did not occupy me tonight.

Instead, I jotted more thoughts about the deaths of Lord Peyton and his secretary, the blackmail letters, and the list of those who’d purchased the ink bottles.

I also spent time wondering how on earth Daniel would go about finding out what the anarchists were up to.

If they were up to anything at all. Daniel had found no evidence of Fenian plots in Viscount Peyton’s house—had Monaghan truly got his information wrong? Or was he setting up Daniel in some sort of scheme to make him fail?

If Daniel watched people who had nothing to do with the bombings, and terrible things happened elsewhere, Daniel might be blamed.

Would Monaghan risk people’s lives to ruin Daniel? Thinking of the hard-eyed man, I believed he could.

But was he? Or was I simply reaching for explanations?

Just before midnight, I heard a tap on the back door. I opened it cautiously to find Adam on the doorstep.

“What yer want?” he asked ungraciously.

I forbore from scolding that a young lad should be in bed, not running about in the dark, and handed him a folded piece of paper.

“Can you get that to your mum without anyone seeing?”

The scorn Adam did so well flowed from him. “Course I can.”

No doubt Hannah, the expert, had taught him well.

“I would be grateful,” I said. “Here’s tuppence for your trouble, and a tea cake as well. Has plenty of currants.”

Adam pocketed the note and the pennies, snatched up the tea cake, and took a large bite. “?’S’good, missus,” he said grudgingly.

That would be all the thanks I’d receive, I imagined. “Tess baked them. She will be pleased to hear it.”

Adam eyed me skeptically, then shrugged and trudged up the stairs without looking back.

Poor lad. With Hannah moving from house to pub to living with a man who might or might not have been Adam’s father, he probably didn’t know whom to trust. I believed Hannah loved him, but life with her would be unconventional.

I sighed as I shut and bolted the door. As I’d had to leave my own baby on my friends’ doorstep, I had no call to express superiority over another’s mothering skills.

I made certain the kitchen was ready for the next day, blew out the candle, and went upstairs to bed.

In the morning, as Tess and I sent up breakfast and took a few minutes to munch our own, Adam returned.

He handed me a paper—my note reused—and held his hand out for his expected payment. I gave him another tuppence and a buttery muffin wrapped in a cloth. He looked less ungracious but again ran away without thanks.

I went down the hall into the empty larder to read Hannah’s reply in privacy.

I can get you into the house , the note promised . Greengrocer’s, Oxford Street, today.