Page 20 of The Captain’s Valentine (The “Other” Trents #3)
The two were unlikely related, but Harrison agreed with Benedick that it was worth investigating. On the other hand, this woman may have information as to Claringford’s sister.
When they stepped inside Bow Street, he found his friend pacing, anxiety flowed from his body. “Claringford, what happened?”
Harrison asked.
“You have been gone too long, Harry.”
“I do not understand.”
“My father passed two years ago.”
Realization struck. “You are now His Grace, the Duke of Clare.”
He nodded.
“I am sorry for your loss.”
Harrison also recalled how his friend had wished for an older brother because he envied the freedom Harrison had as a younger son.
“It happened again.”
“What?”
Harrison suspected he referred to Oliver but needed Clare to provide further information, which he was certain Benedick was anxious to hear. Oddly, Perdita’s brother had not interrupted the conversation.
“Do you recall when I told you how my sister disappeared but we never stopped looking.”
“Yes.”
“She was a twin and my sister that remained delivered a set of twins two years ago, and the second born has also now gone missing.”
His gut tightened. “A two-year-old boy?”
That was the age of Oliver.
“The nurserymaid took the boys to play but when she did not come back, the other servants went in search of her. All they found was one of the sons, all by himself asleep on a blanket beneath the tree and neither the nurserymaid nor the other son was found.”
“She left with the boy?”
“That is what we assume now, but we wasted precious time searching the whole of the estate. We assumed she had been injured and for some reason had him with her.”
“It would be a reasonable assumption,”
Valentine offered.
Clare jerked as if noticing Benedick for the first time. “Who are you?”
“Benedick Valentine of the Thames River Police.”
“They tell me you may have found Oliver. Where is he?”
Clare demanded.
“Tell me first why you think it is him. Your estate is in Ireland, is it not?”
“Yes. Why does it matter?”
“Because the child we discovered was beside a woman who had been murdered. Therefore, before we tell you anything, you must explain to me how you came to believe he is in London.”
Clare took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was something he always did when he would much rather plant the person irritating him a facer.
“We searched beyond the estate, the city of Waterford and also waited for a ransom demand, which never came. We sent the servants out in different directions in hopes that someone might have seen Oliver and the maid while my sister and I visited the former nurserymaid.”
“Why her?”
Valentine asked.
“She was the nurserymaid we had when Cara went missing.”
That was the name of the second born twin, though Harrison had forgotten it.
“Was she able to tell you anything? I assume that she had been questioned in the past.”
“Yes, but she had not been truthful.”
Clare’s shoulder dropped and he wandered to a bench and sat down. “It was worse than we realized.”
Trepidation filled Harrison’s being. “How so?”
“She had been the one to take my sister.”
“What?”
Harrison asked in alarm.
“She believed that twins were bad luck and that when twins were born that the first was good and the second was evil. That is why she gave my sister to a poor woman so that the evil would be elsewhere and not in the home.”
Harrison had heard many superstitions in his travels, but this was one that had not reached his ears.
These were also the beliefs of the mad woman who had attacked Perdita. The two must be related.
“The nurserymaid left that baby with a woman who planned on selling her.”
“Bloody hell!”
Valentine said. “This was in Ireland.”
“The family lived in London when my sisters were born. It was during the Season, my father needed to attend Parliament, and he did not want to be parted from his wife. Now that we know that it was the nurserymaid, the same would have happened in Ireland.”
“Your sister could still be out there somewhere,”
Harrison offered but there was no real hope in his tone.
“Yes, but it is unlikely we will ever find her, especially since the nurserymaid then hired someone to kill the woman.”
“Why?”
Harrison asked.
“She feared the woman would identify her and ask for more money or suffer from guilt and turn her in.”
“Did she tell you what became of the child?”
Valentine asked.
“She did not know.”
Clare stood. “Why does it matter what happened to Cara? It has been twenty-three years. Yes, I want to know what happened to her and I pray that she is alive, but Oliver has already been gone a month. We need to find him, if you have not already done so.”
“Only a few more questions,”
Valentine said. “We have another case that might be related.”
“Another child?”
“No. Another matter,”
Valentine answered and Harrison knew that he was thinking of the woman who attacked Perdita.
“How old is this nurserymaid now and does she still work for your family?”
Valentine demanded.
“She is old, on her deathbed.”
He shook his head. “She likely died shortly after we left because she was making a confession of her sins.”
“Then who took the boy, Oliver, if not her?”
Harrison asked.
“Her great-niece,”
Clare answered. “The woman had gained the position when the first nurserymaid became too old. Had we known of their superstitions, and that both believed in such nonsense, she would have never been hired.”
“Why would she take the child after he was two and not when he was newborn?”
“After the boys were born, my father died, then not long after, my brother-in-law and since Ireland has suffered a famine these past two years, the woman blames the second born twin.”
“Why bring him to London? There are large cities in Ireland.”
“The old nurserymaid told her to. She was to take a ship and be rid of Oliver as they had gotten rid of my sister.”
Clare rubbed his forehead as he stood and paced. “He was taken nearly a month ago. I need to find my nephew, now!”
“I believe we have the nurserymaid in custody,”
Valentine said.
“Here?”
“Yes. A woman was attacked a few days ago and the attacker rambled on about twins and how the evil ones must die,”
Valentine explained. “She also mentioned the boy, not by name, just the boy.”
“Take me to her.”
The coldness in Clare’s tone chilled Harrison to the bone.
Valentine turned and marched down the hall, the Duke of Clare on his heels and Harrison following.
“Clare.”
Venom dipped from the woman’s lips, more evil than mad.
“Where is he?”
She blinked and smiled.
“Where is he, Agnes?”
Clare demanded again.
If there were no bars, no doubt Clare would have his hands around her neck, given he gripped them so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“Do you mean Oliver?”
“You know damn well that I do!”
“He is with your sister.”
“She must have mistaken Perdita for Clare’s missing sister,”
he whispered to Valentine, who only nodded.
Perdita saw her outside of Westbrook House. That was the association. In this woman’s madness, she may have seen Perdita with Oliver somehow and decided Perdita was the sister who had gone missing.
“He knows where they are.”
She nodded to Harrison.
Clare glared at him.
“What do you know?”
“I am the one who found the child and the murdered woman.”
Harrison looked at the woman in the cell.
“It was not by my hand,”
she denied his silent accusation.
“But someone you hired,”
Valentine demanded to which she merely shrugged.
This woman was calmer and colder than she had been when she viciously attacked Perdita.
Was it possible her demeanor could change so much?
It was something he would need to ask Sinclair.
“They need to die,”
the woman said. “Your nephew and your sister.”
Clare clutched the iron of the cell. “What do you know of my sister?”
he yelled.
This woman, Agnes, sneered. “She’s the one who takes care of the boy.”
She leaned forward. “I should have killed them both when I had the chance. Now Ireland will suffer and all will perish.”
“Take me to them,”
Clare ordered as he marched away from the jail cell.
Harrison wanted to warn Clare that in the case of Perdita, it was mistaken identity, though he was certain Oliver was his nephew. But he also did not believe his friend was ready to hear the truth. Therefore, he decided to wait until the happy reunion with the nephew before he told him the truth about Perdita.
“They should be dead,”
The woman screamed. “The famine will continue and Ireland will be destroyed if the evil is not terminated.”
“Take him to Westbrook House and I will return to…they will want to know what you learned.”
Harrison nodded. No doubt he was reluctant to mention Perdita’s name in front of Clare or he would demand to see her and then only be disappointed when he had not found his sister.
Clare marched to his carriage and Harrison followed. Once he gave directions and they were settled inside, the carriage pulled into traffic.
“I do hope it is my nephew.”
“Is your sister in London as well?”
Harrison asked.
“Yes, we all traveled as quickly as possible once we learned that he had been brought here.”
Clare turned to look out the window. “It is Agnes’s claim that my other sister cared for him that is painful and makes me doubt that the boy is even Oliver.”
At least he was willing to believe that Perdita was not who Agnes claimed.
“It has been twenty-three years and it’s cruel to claim someone who we feared was dead has been alive all this time.”
“She is suffering from a madness and likely hoped that her taunt would bring you more pain since she did not gain what she had hoped when taking Oliver.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. I just want to arrive at Westbrook House to make certain that the Oliver they have is my nephew…What is Westbrook House?”
“A foundling home.”
Clare pulled back, hope in his eyes. “Then maybe it is possible that this woman…”
“The woman has only worked there for the past few months. Her parents were missionaries and she was raised in Hampshire. She also has nine older siblings.”
“That is the difficulty with hope. The pain is worse when it has been engaged for even a moment.”
The clocked chimed in the entry just as the front door opened. Perdita assumed that Harrison and Benedick had returned. They had been gone for nearly two hours. Instead, it was Demetirus who walked in.
“I am sorry to disappoint,”
he offered. “I assume you expected someone else.”
“Our brother,”
Orlando answered.
Perdita wanted to answer Harrison, but did not want her brothers to demand why she wanted to see him over their brother.
“Which one, there are three missing.”
“Benedick.”
“Why?”
“There may be news on the woman who attacked Perdita. We are hoping to learn the reason.”
“Then I shall wait with you.”
Demetrius crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy.
“Why are you here?”
Perdita asked.
“Can I not call on my sister?”
he returned. “You were injured. How is your arm?”
“I will recover.”
“You had a client in the neighborhood,”
Orlando accused.
“I wanted to see my sister and be assure of her good health. It is just a coincidence that I was meeting with Viscount Totten. A pleasant old man who owns a rambunctious dog that leaves me covered in fur and a calico that I am certain would like to scratch my eyes out.”
“I will bring a fresh pot of tea,”
the housekeeper said as she came in.
“Thank you,”
Perdita said as she fought a yawn. She was tired but if she admitted such to Orlando, he would force her upstairs to rest, which she refused to do until either Harrison or Benedick returned to tell them what they had learned.
What were the chances that everything was related: Oliver and the missing sister, and the woman who attacked her thinking she was someone else?
It was unlikely, but still it made her wonder.
Oh, she could keep asking the same questions over and over until she went mad waiting for answers, but she could not think of anything else.
“Maybe you should rest,”
Orlando said.
“I know that I will be unable to sleep. Not until this matter has been solved.”
“A missive has arrived for you, Miss Perdita,”
the butler announced.
She rose from her chair and crossed the room and opened the missive.
“What is it?”
Orlando demanded.
“It is from Captain Trent. Oliver is the missing nephew. Is that not delightful?”
“At least one mystery has been solved.”
Demetrius crossed the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “What else does it say?”
“That Claringford, who is actually the Duke of Clare, would like to meet me. To thank me for taking care of Oliver. Captain Trent will bring him by, but if I am not up to meeting him, he will not come in and will understand.”
“Are you?”
She turned to find Benedick standing in the entry.
“Am I what?”
“Up to meeting the Duke of Clare.”
She would like to be assured that Oliver would be safe with his uncle because she still did not understand how the boy could go missing for nearly a month before anyone came looking for him.
“I am,”
she finally answered and walked to the settee where she could see the door much better and awaited their arrival.
“Brandy?”
Demetirus asked Benedick.
“Please.”
He glanced around. “Where is Rosalind and Felding?”
“They have gone out,”
Perdita answered.
“Our aunt and uncle?”
“Resting.”
Orlando answered.
Benedick nodded as he accepted the glass from Demetrius then went to the window to look out at the street.
“You do not have to remain,” she said.
“I believe I do,”
was all he said.
Benedick was acting rather strangely. Then again, there was much about this case that was odd and he was probably still puzzling it out.
“They have arrived,”
he said after a few moments.
She faced the door, when a gentleman, who must be Clare, stepped into the parlor with Harrison, all color left his face as his blue eyes widened. It was almost as if he had seen a ghost.
“Cara? Is it truly you?”
“No, I am Perdita. Perdita Valentine,”
she answered as she came to her feet. Was he as mad as the woman you attacked her.
“No. You are the image of my sister, Cadla. Identical.”
He turned to Harrison, happiness in his blue eyes. “Agnes was right. My sister was taking care of my nephew.”
“You are mistaken,”
Perdita insisted. He had to be but when she looked into Orlando’s eyes, then Demetrius’ and finally Benedick’s, there was no humor within.
“Why does His Grace believe that I am his sister?”