Page 24 of Murder at Somerset House (A Wrexford & Sloane Mystery #9)

C harlotte rose from her dressing table and froze for a moment to watch the early morning light dance through the pattern of ice crystals that had formed on the windowpanes during the night.

Dipping and darting, the tiny sparks were quicker than the eye, leaving only a teasing impression of their presence.

Hide and seek . She heaved a sigh. Had Wrexford’s meeting with Mrs. Marcet finally uncovered a useful clue?

He seemed doubtful but resolved to leave no stone unturned and so was planning to visit Kelmscott House later in the day.

Given his unsettled mood, Charlotte had insisted on accompanying him despite her lack of scientific knowledge, pointing out that her presence would make the visit appear to be one of simple curiosity.

In truth, everyone in the household was on edge. Frustration was building. It seemed to crackle and hiss like unseen electricity through every nook and cranny of their Berkeley Square residence.

Turning back to the looking glass, Charlotte added a last hairpin to secure her topknot and then headed for the stairs, trying to muster some reason for optimism.

The mood around the breakfast table offered little encouragement. A quick look around showed that everyone’s expression was black as the devil’s heart.

“Good morning!” Even to her own ears, her forced cheeriness had a brittle ring.

Without looking up, Wrexford made an inarticulate noise in his throat and turned the page of his newspaper with a brusque snap.

As for the boys, they continued grumbling among themselves over the fact that none of their urchin friends could offer a clue as to Boyleston and his activities.

“Hell’s bells, how is it that nobody has seen a fellow matching Mr. Boyleston’s description?” groused Raven, crumbling a muffin between his fingers.

“There are still one or two neighborhoods left to check,” said Hawk, doing his best to put on a brave face.

“I just don’t understand it. Boyleston had to be working somewhere, and our eyes and ears on the streets are aware of everything that goes on in their turf,” continued Raven. “A bloody flea can’t fart without one of them noticing it.”

Hawk made a gagging noise as he laughed and swallowed a bite of his eggs at the same time.

“Language,” chided Charlotte, wagging a finger in warning. “We are all on edge. But that does not excuse breaking the house rules on gentlemanly deportment.”

“Sorry.” Raven pushed back his plate and slouched down in his chair. “It’s just that we don’t have any idea as to where to look next.”

Tyler made a face, appearing equally disgusted over his lack of progress in identifying the mysterious trio from the warehouse.

“None of my contacts are aware of any illicit activities going on around the river. It’s as if the man who attacked Raven and his two compatriots are supernatural afreets or djinns. ”

He waved his hands. “Poof! Gone without a trace!”

“Let us not descend into melodrama,” counseled Charlotte. And yet she, too, wondered whether some unseen malignant force was making sport of them.

Wrexford finally looked up from his reading. “I’ve changed my mind about our original plan. Forget about Boyleston and finding his workspace for now. I have another assignment for you Weasels.”

The three boys immediately perked up.

“Starting tonight, I want you and your urchin friends to organize a round-the-clock surveillance of the artist from Paris, Pierre Ducasse.” He put aside the newspaper.

“We need to shift the focus of our investigation. Given what Mrs. Marcet told me, searching for Boyleston’s secret workspace—assuming he had one—may be a futile effort.

Let us concentrate our efforts on discovering whether there is a cadre of French operatives here in London, and if they have gotten their hands on Boyleston’s research. ”

Charlotte felt a twinge of remorse at not having made any headway in determining whether the French painter was a clandestine operative for Napoleon.

“I’m still uncertain about Ducasse’s motivations.

His flirtations have no real edge. And while his probing for information about you and the rumors he has heard about your investigative talents are sharper, I can’t decide whether he is any threat to us. ”

“A clever and ruthless agent’s arsenal of skills would naturally include the ability to appear harmless,” pointed out the earl. “The proverbial wolf cloaked in a sheep’s fluffy wool.”

“True.” She sighed. “Be that as it may, in several days we are attending the soiree given by the Prince Regent for Ducasse and the leaders of the French émigré community. So we will have a good opportunity to watch him and his interactions. Given the copious amount of wine that flows at any Carlton House party, we might catch him making a mistake.”

Wrexford let out a skeptical grunt.

“Do you really think he may be—”

“I don’t know what to think,” he barked. “Which is why I’m willing to put aside my usual preference for logic and simply cast out random nets and see what we haul in.”

“It appears we have chosen an inauspicious moment for a visit,” announced Sheffield, as he and Cordelia paused in the doorway.

“Not at all, there’s plenty of food left in the chafing dishes,” said McClellan.

“We didn’t come here to raid the larder,” said Cordelia.

“We were going to suggest having a meeting on finances and the Stock Exchange with Raven, since he is eager to work with us on our joint project with David Ricardo.” She gave a discreet tug to Sheffield’s sleeve. “But we’ll come back at another time.”

“No, wait!” exclaimed Raven. “We can’t set up the surveillance of the Frenchman until after dusk, and I would like to be engaged in something useful until then.”

“Yes, please stay,” added Charlotte. “I have a drawing due by tomorrow, and as there’s no pressing issue swirling through the city—that is, not any that we are allowed to mention—I, too, ought to learn more about the London Stock Exchange.”

She pushed back her chair. “From listening to you, I am beginning to realize what a powerful force it is on the country’s economy. So it’s important for the public to understand how it works and the effects it has on their lives.”

She looked to Wrexford. “You don’t plan to leave for Kelmscott House until noon, correct?”

A curt nod. “Again, you need not come along.” After a moment, he added, “Though I confess, I would welcome your company, even though it likely will be a waste of time for both of us.”

Charlotte smiled. “A drive through the countryside will be a pleasant interlude, regardless of what we find.”

Wrexford apologized to Sheffield and Cordelia for his snappish show of temper and then excused himself to pay a visit to the library of the Royal Institution to see if he could dig up the scientific paper by Francis Ronalds that Mrs. Marcet had mentioned.

“We are all feeling under the gun,” observed Charlotte after he had left the room.

“What few clues we have—Egg’s pistol, the scraps of burnt paper from the warehouse, the mysterious gentleman with side-whiskers who was likely Raven’s assailant in disguise—have led us nowhere in figuring out what shadowy forces are in play, and more importantly, what they are seeking to accomplish.

So at the moment, it feels as if we are—”

“It feels as if we are simply spinning in circles,” finished Raven. Hawk and Peregrine, who had little interest in advanced mathematics, had returned to their eyrie to prepare for the evening’s activities.

Sheffield grimaced in sympathy. “Our unknown adversaries must be diabolically clever to have flummoxed all of our efforts. However, let us have faith.”

Charlotte made a face. “I would rather have a bit of luck.” Of late, the cosmos appeared to have turned a blind eye on their efforts. “But be that as it may, let us head to Wrex’s workroom and discuss the Stock Exchange.”

Once she had settled herself at the earl’s desk, she added, “I am trying to get a visual image in my mind of how the market works. The constant buying and selling—”

“Perhaps it would help if you picture it as stocks rising and falling,” interrupted Cordelia. “Prices are always in a state of flux, influenced by all manner of things. Supply and demand, rumor and innuendo, political events—there are a myriad of things that affect buying and selling.”

“For example, there is a form of something called arbitrage. It involves identifying two securities whose market prices bear a certain relationship to one another. Under various circumstances, you can somehow buy one and effectively sell the other security and make a guaranteed profit for a brief time as the prices of securities move relative to one another.”

She paused to consider how to proceed. “It would sound dauntingly complicated if I tried to explain all the various permutations of trading in one sitting. Suffice it to say that while Mr. Ricardo does his trading mostly based on his vast knowledge of the market and intuition, the mathematics that Raven and I do can help him identify situations with a potential for profit and provide guidance on how long he should hold on to his positions before taking a profit.”

“Hmmm.” Charlotte thought for a moment. “Given that I have no aptitude or interest in mathematics, I can see that I’m overmatched in trying to do a technical explanation of the Stock Exchange. Still …”

She plucked up a pencil and put a fresh sheet of paper on the blotter. “I’m beginning to envision a composition that simply conveys to the public that it is a powerful force on their lives, whether they know it or not.”

By noontime, the sky had cleared and the day had turned rather balmy for early March. Wrexford returned from the Royal Institution, and he and Charlotte climbed into their carriage to begin the journey west to Hammersmith.

“I apologize for acting like a bear with a thorn in its arse of late,” he said, after settling back against the squabs. “It cannot be pleasant for you to live with my brooding.”