Page 12

Chapter Twelve

Wood Street

Cheapside

Mrs Melville’s sister lived opposite The Castle Inn on Wood Street, a lane of narrow shops and houses, where the overhanging upper stories made the world seem dark and dim. The air carried the smell of freshly baked bread and the shouts of barrow boys hawking their wares.

Daniel had instructed Jarvis to park on Cheapside, a five-minute walk away. Now on foot, they moved through the cramped thoroughfare. An elegant carriage drew too much attention, and the street was difficult to navigate.

“Mrs Melville’s sister works from home as a millinery seamstress,” Elsa said, still gripping his arm when they were forced to walk single file. “She visited Chippenham once and stayed for a week.”

He kept his eyes peeled, steering her through the crowds, forcing himself to focus on today’s task when he wanted to lose himself in the memory of their amorous encounter beneath the oak tree last night. But whoever killed Lord Grafton and Carver was baying for Elsa’s blood.

“How long has Mrs Melville been the housekeeper at Edenberry?”

“At least ten years.”

“And you trust her?” Perhaps the woman wasn’t visiting her sister but running away.

“I have no reason to doubt her loyalty to my family. My mother adored her. They took tea together most afternoons.”

“And your father?”

The strained pause was telling.

“Elsa, you heard what Daventry said. A smudge of purple ink on a cushion helped him catch a notorious thief. Every small detail is important.”

“I know,” she said, tightening her grip on his arm. “It’s just a feeling I had. A thrum in the air when Mrs Melville entered the room. My father’s preoccupation with the household accounts.”

“What are you saying?” He had his suspicions but was reluctant to suggest an affair.

“That it wasn’t all dusting and decorum between them. When my mother became ill, she told Mrs Melville to look after my father. I’m unsure of the specifics, but I know he enjoyed her company.”

Mrs Melville’s reluctance to leave Edenberry made sense now. No doubt she had sworn to take care of Magnus and Elsa, too. Maybe she knew their lives were in danger. Maybe she held the clue to solving this damnable mess.

“Perhaps I should question Mrs Melville,” she said, dodging the stray dog that bolted past. “I fear she will see you as an outsider, and probably doesn’t know you’re the one who’s been paying her wages.”

“I was going to suggest the same.”

The investigation amounted to more than clearing her name—it was about saving her life, not just her reputation. Her happiness hinged on the outcome, and his admiration for her grew whenever she found the strength to fight.

As they neared The Castle Inn, Daniel checked the address on the note he retrieved from his pocket. “Mrs Melville’s sister lives at No. 8.” He pointed to the house with the blue paint-chipped door.

Elsa squared her shoulders before knocking twice.

She scanned the street as she waited, but he had already noted every beady-eyed figure lingering in shop doorways, his gaze sharp, anticipating an attack.

A young woman opened the door, wiping her hands on her pinny. “Can I help you?” Her accent carried the sharp, clipped tones of a Londoner raised in the workhouse. “Need something fixed?”

“Fixed?”

She nodded to Elsa’s green pillbox hat. “Do you want Martha to do a bit of titivating to your hat?”

“What’s wrong with my hat?”

The woman shrugged a bony shoulder. “There ain’t nothing wrong with it, but I thought the milliner on Milk Street sent you here.”

“No. I’m here to see Mrs Melville.” Elsa introduced herself and mentioned Edenberry. “I was told she’s visiting her sister. Is Mrs Melville at home?”

The woman beckoned them into the narrow hall, a cramped space where they were forced to stand close together. The comforting aroma of chicken broth wafted through the air, and Daniel’s stomach rumbled in response.

“Follow me and mind your step. I dropped a pot of pins this morning. The dratted things scattered like leaves in the wind. The cat stepped on one and howled as if the butcher’s boy had grabbed its tail.”

Mrs Melville was in the kitchen, stirring the contents of a cast-iron pot hanging over the hearth. A stout woman with silver-threaded hair and shrewd eyes, she looked delighted to see Elsa, but her smile died when she locked eyes with Daniel.

“Mr Dalton.” Mrs Melville set down her wooden spoon as if bracing herself for bad news. “I trust all is well at Edenberry.”

“Yes, but I’ve summoned the staff back to work. I received word you were in town and came to invite you to return when you can.”

The loyal housekeeper jumped as if eager to pack. “The stage leaves La Belle Savage tomorrow morning. Is the master home from his travels?”

“Not presently. Is there somewhere we might speak privately?”

With an uneasy frown, Mrs Melville gestured to the hall. “There’s a small parlour. We can talk there.” She addressed the young woman standing gawping. “Watch the broth while I’m gone, Anna.”

The parlour was modestly furnished, its worn but clean chairs arranged near the hearth. Heavy curtains swamped the small window, muffling the sound of hawkers outside.

Mrs Melville invited them to sit before perching nervously on her own chair. “I think I know what this is about, sir. ”

“You do?” He prayed she knew nothing about Carver being murdered in his bed or buried in the woods.

“I saw the men myself, sir, drinking the master’s brandy and playing billiards in the games room.” She glanced at her work-worn hands resting in her lap. “I know you said we shouldn’t visit the house unless instructed, but I heard tales of trespassers and wanted to check for myself.”

“Can you describe these men?”

The housekeeper described the two scoundrels Rothley had thrown out on their ear. “They didn’t see me, sir, but I heard them joking about being paid to get drunk.”

“Do you know who’s paying them?” Elsa asked.

Mrs Melville looked confused. “Why, your brother, ma’am. He made the arrangements before leaving for the Continent.”

Elsa jerked as though pricked by one of Anna’s lost pins. “You’re certain Magnus hired them?”

“I saw him hand them a heavy coin purse and a key to the kitchen door. He told them to keep out intruders, but not to breathe a word of it to anyone.”

So, the tale of the land agent hiring them at The Speckled Hen was a lie. That’s why the innkeeper had no recollection of the mysterious gent.

Daniel inwardly cursed. “But I hired a man to patrol the property.”

“Mr Tanner. Yes, I know, sir. The vicar said he was a runner at Bow Street years ago. I believe the men came to an agreement and took turns spending the night at Edenberry.”

No wonder Tanner never mentioned the cosy arrangement. He was being paid to do half a job.

“Did it not strike you as odd that my brother hired men to guard Edenberry when there were already twenty staff living on the premises?” Elsa said.

A flush rose to Mrs Melville’s cheeks. “It’s not my place to question the master’s decisions, ma’am.”

Elsa held the housekeeper’s gaze. “But you do know why Magnus hired the men and sent the staff home.”

“I know he was afraid, ma’am.”

“Afraid of what?” Elsa said, feigning ignorance.

Mrs Melville pursed her trembling lips.

Elsa shot Daniel a questioning glance. The housekeeper had explained how the thugs came by the keys, but it was clear she was still holding something back.

Time was of the essence. Two men were dead. Elsa was only alive by God’s good grace.

The thought struck like a blade to the heart.

Their lascivious act in the garden last night proved promising for the future. The sacrifices he’d already made gave him hope they both cared enough to survive the lies and deceit.

Yet a strange foreboding settled over him, as if unseen hands were tugging at the seams of his life, eager to destroy his future.

“We need answers, and we need them now,” he said, his voice low and urgent. Neither of them was safe until they’d found Carver’s killer.

Elsa’s curt nod said she understood.

She came straight to the point. “Someone tried to kill me, Mrs Melville. I have no idea why, but I suspect it relates to my father’s bad investments.”

The housekeeper paled.

“I need you to think about those afternoons spent having tea with my mother. Did she say anything about threats being made? Was she fearful for the future?”

Mrs Melville shook her head. “We spoke about mundane things. She was worried about your father and what would happen when she succumbed to the consumption. She was so frail in her final weeks.”

Elsa closed her eyes as if the memory was too hard to bear. “Did you discuss her favourite novels? I can list them if it helps refresh your memory.”

“There’s no need. I remember them clearly. Your father mentioned them often. We had a rather amusing pastime—comparing real people to characters in novels.”

“Can you recall any examples? You may speak freely.”

Mrs Melville thought for a moment. “Your father compared Mr Charmers to Ambrosio from The Monk . A man whose piety is a mask. He said Mr Charmers is good at hiding the truth.”

The whole theme of The Monk is one of betrayal. The villain is a deviant who cannot control his sinful desires.

“Lord Denby was Sir Edward in The Fatal Revenge ,” Mrs Melville continued, her expression turning grave. “I think your father was trying to tell me he didn’t want you to marry the lord.”

“How is that novel relevant?” Daniel said.

Elsa cleared her throat. “The story is about Helen, wronged by the wealthy Sir Edward, who betrays her by falsely promising to marry her.”

Had Lord Denby been seeking a way out of the marriage? Would he rather see Elsa on the scaffold than in his bed?

“Why the smoke and mirrors?” he demanded, irritated the Tylers had left Elsa to search for answers. “Why not share his concerns? ”

Mrs Melville hesitated before asking, “Did Mr Tyler not explain it in his letter?”

Elsa stiffened. “His letter?”

“The one tucked inside the Bible. It was addressed to you, ma’am. Your father told me to give you the Bible after his passing, though I’m certain it belonged to your mother.”

“I never received a letter from my father, though Magnus gave me an old Bible. One dating back sixty years or more. My mother must have found it, as the inscription inside read, To Cynthia, with love .”

Mrs Melville blanched. “But Mr Tyler saw me with the Bible and said he would give it to you.”

“Magnus took the Bible?”

“Yes, though it was a month or two after your father passed.” Mrs Melville shifted in her chair, her hands twisting in her lap. “Perhaps he forgot the letter was meant for you. Emotions were high. Mr Carver had misplaced some of your father’s papers and spent hours locked in the study, sifting through the drawers.”

The comment roused Daniel’s suspicions. No doubt Carver was looking for the journal, not pointless papers. And Magnus must have opened the letter and read the private message.

“Did Magnus mention the letter to you?” Elsa asked him, looking puzzled and somewhat hurt.

“No. I would have told you.”

It seems Magnus kept many things to himself.

A sickening feeling settled in Daniel’s gut. Had Magnus sent the letters to The Grange, telling Clara about the two shillings? Was he really in Geneva? Or was he the nabob disguised as a vagrant who had stolen his mother’s books? More importantly, had Magnus killed Carver ?

If the answer was yes to those questions, then why?

He wanted to ask the housekeeper if she had seen Carver and Magnus arguing the day Elsa went missing but couldn’t without rousing her suspicions.

“Have you seen Mr Carver since he left Edenberry?” he said, testing the housekeeper’s reaction. He was confident she had not met with a dead man.

“No, sir.”

“Have any of the staff heard from him?”

“No, sir.”

“Did anyone come looking for him?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Daniel felt the tension leave his body. Surely it meant Carver sold secrets and spied for one person—the devil who killed him.

Mrs Melville stood suddenly. “I do have something for you. Something your father gave me. I’ll nip upstairs and fetch it.”

As soon as the housekeeper left the room, Elsa inhaled sharply and said, “Tell me you don’t think Magnus deliberately kept the letter from me. He made no mention of it when he gave me the Bible.”

“I won’t lie to you. I believe Magnus read the missive.”

“Of course he did. It’s foolish to think otherwise.” She muttered something in frustration. “If only we knew why.”

“We’re missing something. Something important. Something that ties all these clues together. Remember what Daventry said when we showed him the journal. That question must be our focus.”

“What is my father trying to tell me?” she said before adding a question of her own. “And why did he not trust Magnus? ”

Mrs Melville returned and handed Elsa a small magnifying glass on a gold chain. “When you asked about your mother’s novels, I was to give it to you. You’re to use it to look deeper. To solve a puzzle, one must begin at the beginning. That’s what your father told me to say to you, Mrs Dalton.”

Elsa studied the tiny instrument. There was a similar object on her mother’s new ex-libris. “Did he give a reason for all the secrecy?”

“No. But if you married Lord Denby, I was to keep the magnifying glass.”

“Why?”

“Because by then, it would be too late.”

“Too late for what?”

Mrs Melville was reluctant to say. “It was a little over a year ago. I may have misheard. He was angry and blamed himself for you being tied to the contract.”

“You need to tell us what he said,” Daniel urged her. “It may be important.”

The woman gave a resigned sigh. “Too late to save you.”

They arrived home to be told the Earl and Countess of Berridge were having tea with Clara in the drawing room. Signora Conti rushed to explain why she had broken the cardinal rule of forbidding visitors in his absence.

“Miss Clara insisted they were good friends. And the marquess, he said they would be welcome in your home.”

“Rothley is here?” Daniel silently cursed. He had hoped for an hour alone with Elsa. Ever since their interlude in the garden last night, he’d been eager to finish what they’d started. After six months of marriage, would he ever get the chance to make love to his wife?

“ Sì . His lordship arrived an hour ago, has eaten three almond cakes and opened a bottle of Chateaux Latour.”

Elsa reassured Signora Conti. “The countess has been extremely kind to Clara. It’s only right she receives our hospitality.”

Signora Conti smiled and nodded. “I would have happily refused them, but Miss Clara has been sad all morning, and her mood seemed much improved when they called.”

The chains of guilt tightened around Daniel’s chest. He was to blame. Had Clara not come to save him that night, she wouldn’t be blind in one eye. But perhaps it was time to stop treating his sister like a child.

“Clara is right. They’re our friends and are most welcome.”

Signora Conti’s smile spoke of relief. “I’ll have Abigail bring fresh tea and more cake. And Mansons has sent the book of material samples.”

“Leave it in my study.” He would have his wife in his bed before she began focusing on decorating her own room.

Aaron Chance—Earl of Berridge—sat sipping Daniel’s claret in the drawing room while Rothley tried to identify the wine’s subtle notes. “Yes, I taste blackcurrant layered with plum and a touch of warm spice.”

Clara sat with the countess on the sofa, showing her a new design she had drawn for a ruby eye patch. “I’ll have paste gems made to deter jewel thieves.”

“Thieves are easily fooled. Paste looks so authentic these days,” the countess said in a cautious tone. “Look what happened to poor Miss Woolf.”

Plagued by a sudden curiosity, Rothley looked up. “What has happened to Miss Woolf?” He looked past the countess. “Ah, the wanderers return. I was about to send out a search party.”

They acknowledged their guests.

“We visited Mrs Melville, the housekeeper at Edenberry.” He waited for Elsa to sit on the sofa, then occupied the empty space beside her. “She’s agreed to return to Chippenham tomorrow.”

The countess fixed her bright blue gaze on them. “I hope you don’t mind us calling. I was shocked to hear of your nuptials, and then, with the rather unconventional way you left the ball, I wanted to be certain all was well.”

“You promised to reassure my wife,” the earl added bluntly.

“We’ve been busy,” Daniel replied drily.

Elsa clasped her hands in her lap and addressed the countess. “Can you ever forgive me for lying to you, Joanna? You’ve been so kind to me and Clara. You’ve made the last month here bearable. I honestly don’t know how we’d have coped without you.”

The countess smiled, her eyes glowing with the same warmth Daniel had once seen in her brother Justin. He wondered if Rothley had noticed the likeness. Was that another reason he clung so tightly to the ghosts of the past?

“Those who enter The Burnished Jade come because fate has drawn them there.” The countess glanced at her husband with evident admiration. “I hope you still consider yourself members. Some ladies desperately need a friend. I know Miss Woolf would appreciate your company.”

“What happened to Miss Woolf?” Rothley repeated. “Did she fall into an open pit while scouring the graveyard at night? ”

Like Rothley, Miss Woolf had a fascination for the macabre.

“No,” the countess said sharply. “She was attacked at home, and her jewellery box was stolen. Fortunately, any valuable pieces from her modest inheritance are hidden elsewhere.”

Rothley shot to his feet, though he seemed more shocked by his own reaction than anything else. “Have they caught the devil?” He reached for the bottle of claret as if that were his true purpose for standing.

“Sadly, no. But I hate the thought of her returning to that dreadful lodging house at night. I’ve offered her a room at The Jade, but she politely declined.”

Rothley filled his wine glass. “Pride is an admirable quality in a woman. Particularly when she’s down on her luck.”

“Perhaps Mr Daventry can help,” Elsa said. “He’s remarkably intuitive and offered us no end of useful suggestions.”

The earl’s ears pricked. “Daventry paid you a visit? Does it relate to why you lied about being married?”

Although Daniel trusted the Earl of Berridge, and Rothley considered him a good friend, the fewer people who knew about their troubles, the better. “It’s a complicated situation.”

“Perhaps I can help,” the earl said, his reputation enough to strike fear into the bravest men. “Half the lords in London are in my debt. I hear your wife broke the contract with Denby and married you instead. More than a few men would like to see Denby ruined.”

A tense silence settled over the room.

Rothley was the first to speak. “Based on the complexity of this case, you need good men as allies, Dalton. ”

“I understand your father made a series of bad investments, Mrs Dalton.” The earl studied Elsa over steepled fingers. “They were the talk of the ton for a time.”

“I suppose I should feel ashamed, but I don’t.” Elsa smiled as her gaze turned reflective. “Despite his many faults, my father was a kind, affectionate man. What is money without love, my lord?”

Rothley bowed his head. The marquess had loved a woman who vanished after being bribed to leave by his father. Bitterness for both parties still coursed through his veins, a poison that had stained his soul.

“Yet your father signed a contract with Lord Denby, forcing you to marry for money, not love,” the earl said without apology. “Does that not seem like a glaring contradiction?”

“Of course. But desperate men do desperate things.”

Daniel did not intervene. Elsa could speak for herself, and these questions proved insightful.

“He made a mistake,” Elsa quickly added, “and Lord Denby took advantage. Have you not made mistakes, my lord?”

“Yes, many. Never the same mistake three times. Does that not strike you as odd, Mrs Dalton?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That there was some sort of conspiracy,” Daniel answered. He’d wondered a similar thing and would wring a confession out of Charmers when he had a spare moment to breathe. “There’s a chance his man of business was also involved. He was rather inept at checking legal documents.”

“Wasn’t there an investment with Charmers?”

“Yes, Mr Charmers encouraged my father to invest a large sum in Britannia Shipping,” she admitted. “I would like to know if other investors lost their money.”

“Ah, Charmers, the man with an angel’s smile and a darkling’s appetite.” The earl gave a mocking snort but didn’t elaborate. “Your husband is terrifying enough to corner the devil in a dark alley and force a confession.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do.” Daniel imagined the lily-livered fop piddling his trousers. “We know of a solicitor who may hold evidence of fraud and plan to visit him tomorrow.”

“What can we do?” the countess asked. “Surely there’s a way we can help.”

Daniel did not refuse, not when most men who gambled at the earl’s club owed him a favour. “I’d like a detailed list of Denby’s movements. Where he goes when he leaves the house.”

“Consider it done,” the earl said, offering a confident grin. “I’ll call in a few debts and see what secrets Denby has lurking in his past.”

Elsa surprised them by making her own request. “I know people often travel under an alias, but could someone speak to the ship’s purser or check passenger records for vessels that sailed from London to Calais last November?”

The earl nodded. “Who is my man looking for?”

“Magnus Tyler. I need to know my brother is in Geneva.”

“I’ll do what I can, but he may have travelled from a different port.” The earl paused, fixing them with his intense gaze. “First, you will tell me everything you told Daventry. There’s more to your problems than a broken marriage contract with Lord Denby.”