by Amanda Quick
“So it appears.” Adam tapped his fingertips twice. “Matters have become more complicated. I did not want to alarm Julia, but I think the time has come to tell her and Southwood what is going on.”
“Indeed. This situation has become extremely worrisome. It would be best if they were made aware of events.” Wilson narrowed his eyes. “I assume the police consider you a suspect?”
Adam shrugged. “The inspector had some questions but most of them were put to rest when he discovered that I had an excellent alibi. A close acquaintance verified my claim that I was otherwise occupied when Toller was murdered.”
“I am relieved to hear that.” Wilson relaxed visibly. “That should make things a good deal less dire. What time was Toller killed?”
“Midnight.”
Wilson nodded. “That was well after the séance had ended. You were no doubt at your club. You probably have a dozen witnesses.” He gave a disdainful snort. “The killer should have had the sense to confirm your whereabouts before he tried to implicate you.”
“I was not at my club.”
“Where were you? The theater?”
“No. I went to the rooms in Stone Street.”
“At midnight?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.” Wilson scowled. “When you go there, you always go alone. Who is this acquaintance who vouched for your whereabouts?”
“My very good friend, Mrs. Fordyce.”
“Fordyce? Fordyce.” Wilson’s expression was puzzled. “Do you refer to the author Mrs. Fordyce?”
“Yes.”
Wilson looked stunned. “The deuce, you say. This is no time to exhibit your eccentric sense of humor, Adam.”
“It is not a joke. Brace yourself, sir. I am about to become embroiled in a shocking scandal involving murder and an illicit liaison with a famous sensation novelist.”
TWENTY-THREE
“Brace yourselves.” Caroline folded her hands on top of her desk and faced Emma and Milly. “A number of startling incidents occurred last night and early this morning while you were out.”
“How exciting.” Enthused, as always, by the promise of entertaining news, Milly bustled to the nearest chair and sat down. “Do tell us everything, dear.”
Predictably, Emma did not appear nearly so enthusiastic. She lowered herself into one of the reading chairs and examined Caroline with the air of a physician watching for signs of a high fever. “Are you all right?”
“I am quite fit, I assure you.” Caroline paused. “So much has happened in the past few hours that I am not certain where to begin.”
“Just start anywhere, dear,” Milly advised with an airy wave of her hand.
“Very well. Another medium has been murdered in a manner that is strangely reminiscent of the way in which Elizabeth Delmont was killed.”
The clock ticked into the astounded hush that followed that announcement.
“This is shocking news.” Emma looked dazed. “Absolutely shocking.”
Milly had clearly been jolted out of the first flush of excitement. “Another dead medium, you say? Which one?”
“Irene Toller,” Caroline said.
“Delmont’s rival?” Milly frowned. “But I thought that you and Adam had concluded that Toller was very likely a suspect in the murder of Elizabeth Delmont.”
“Mr. Hardesty and I certainly considered that a distinct possibility. But we may have been wrong.”
Before she could launch into a more thorough recitation of events, she was interrupted by the muffled clatter of hooves, harness and carriage wheels.
The rumble in the street ceased abruptly as the heavy vehicle halted in front of Number 22.
“I wonder who that can be,” Emma said, distracted.
Someone banged the brass knocker. The sound was followed by the patter of Mrs. Plummer’s footsteps. The door opened in the front hall. Voices could be heard.
A short time later Mrs. Plummer loomed in the doorway of the study. Her ruddy features were redder than usual. She held herself in a self-consciously erect, square-shouldered manner: a woman with a message of great importance.
She cleared her throat portentously.
“The Earl of Southwood, Lady Southwood, Mr. Wilson Grendon and Mr. Hardesty have called. Shall I say that you are home?”
Milly shot to her feet. “Oh, my. An earl and a countess? And Mr. Grendon, as well? What will the neighbors think?”
Emma lurched out of her chair. “Why would Mr. Hardesty bring his relatives here? They must have got the wrong address, Mrs. Plummer.”
“No,” Caroline said wearily. “I fear they have come to the right address.” She nodded to Mrs. Plummer. “Please show our guests into the parlor.”
“What is going on?” Milly demanded.
“Why would the Earl of Southwood and his wife call on us?” Emma asked. “And Mr. Wilson Grendon, too.”
Caroline rose. “It has to do with another startling incident that I have not had a chance to relate to you.”
“What is it?” Emma asked.
“The police viewed Mr. Hardesty as a possible suspect in the murder of Mrs. Toller.”
Emma and Milly stared at her, openmouthed.
“Do not concern yourselves,” Caroline said hastily. “All is well. I was able to provide him with a firm alibi. But unfortunately, I fear that the entire affair is about to erupt into a sensation in the press.”
“I must tell you that I am a great admirer of your stories, Mrs. Fordyce.” Julia accepted a cup of tea from Milly. “It is so exciting to meet you.”
“Yes, indeed.” Wilson enthusiastically helped himself to a tart from the tea tray. “Don’t mind saying that you make a delightful change from the usual run of Adam’s acquaintances.”
“Very true,” Richard, the Earl of Southwood, said. He was a quiet, thoughtful man who stood directly behind his wife as though casting a protective shadow over her. He gave Adam a dryly amused look. “But then Hardesty rarely reads anything other than the Times, so it stands to reason that his circle of associates is usually equally dull.”
Adam, positioned near the window, ignored his brother-in-law. He seemed content to let his relatives conduct the interview with Caroline, Emma and Milly.
Caroline managed a smile. In truth, she was feeling overwhelmed. Given what Adam had told her about his family’s odd past, perhaps it should not have come as a surprise that Richard, Julia and Wilson did not exhibit the cold, supercilious behavior one would have expected. They were not, after all, typical members of the Polite World. Nevertheless, she was secretly astonished at how comfortable the elegantly dressed visitors appeared in their modest surroundings.
Julia’s expression became more serious. “Adam has told us something of your recent adventures.”
Wilson nodded somberly. “We are aware that you have assisted him in his search for a certain diary. The two of you have certainly had an exciting time of it.”
“Indeed they have.” Emma leaned forward tensely, pinning Adam with her sharp gaze. “I do not like to pry and if it were not for the fact that Caroline is quite intimately involved in this affair, I would not dream of doing so. But my niece appears to be in this thing up to her neck and I feel it is only right that we should know why you consider it so important to retrieve that diary, Mr. Hardesty.”
Milly abruptly ceased smiling, allowing everyone a clear glimpse of the sturdy, purposeful character that lay directly beneath her cheerful, optimistic exterior. “I am in complete agreement with Emma. The situation has become distinctly menacing, what with two women dead. I think we deserve to be given some notion of the nature of the threat if only so that Caroline can be protected.”
“The details are not necessary,” Caroline said, quickly. “Mr. Hardesty has told me enough to satisfy me that it is very important to recover the diary.”
Julia smiled gently. “Your aunts deserve to know the full particulars, Mrs. Fordyce.”
“No, really,” Caroline began.
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Julia looked at Emma and Milly. “The long and the short of it is that my brothers and sister and I are not related by blood. We have no family connections to Uncle Wilson except those created by affection and loyalty.”
“I don’t understand,” Emma said, frowning slightly.
“We were all abandoned to our fates in the streets many years ago,” Julia continued. “If it had not been for Adam, who rescued each one of us, Jessica, Nathan and I would likely have perished.”
Richard put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Julia reached up and lightly touched his fingers with her own. The aura of intimacy and love that enveloped the pair was unmistakable. Theirs was a love match, Caroline realized. How fortunate they were.
“The truth about our pasts is in that missing diary,” Julia concluded. “Adam is determined to find it and destroy it. He is most concerned for Jessica and Nathan, who are both still quite young. Jessica, especially, is vulnerable. She is only eighteen and on the verge of her debut into Society.”
“Astonishing,” Milly whispered, wide-eyed.
Julia looked at Caroline. “Adam said that he took you to the rooms in Stone Street last night.”
Caroline was acutely aware of Emma and Milly watching her in veiled surprise. She tried to suppress the heat that rose in her cheeks. She really was a woman of experience now. She must act like the widow she purported to be. Widows who were having affairs with powerful gentlemen did not allow themselves to be easily embarrassed.
“Yes,” she said, trying to keep her tone equally calm and cool. “He told me something of your past there and of how the four of you came to make the acquaintance of Mr. Grendon.”
“If Adam trusted you with the secrets of Stone Street, then I have no qualms whatsoever about trusting you,” Julia said simply.
Wilson reached for another tart. “I agree with Julia.”
Richard shrugged. “Hardesty has his irritating little quirks but I must admit that he is generally quite accurate when it comes to judging the trustworthiness of others.”
Adam’s mouth kicked up at the corner. “Thank you, Southwood. I had no idea that you thought so highly of me.”
Richard grinned unexpectedly. “You approved me as a husband for Julia, did you not? Obviously you know sound character when you encounter it, even if you do occasionally require convincing evidence.”
“You proved your character when you refused to be put off by the truth about my past, Richard,” Julia said.
He gripped her shoulder gently. “How could I not fall in love with such a brave young woman?”
Julia smiled, her love clear in her eyes.
Milly dabbed the corner of her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “How romantic.”
Wilson cleared his throat. “I have assured Adam that any gossip that resulted from a revelation of the contents of the diary could be lived down, but he is determined to find the thing, if possible, and burn it. Must admit, it would be simpler if he got rid of it before anyone else reads it. I do worry a bit about how Jessica might fare next Season if there are rumors about her past going around.”
“Yes,” Richard said, his expression hardening. “And I, too, would much prefer that Julia not become the subject of that sort of gossip.”
“Blackmail is essentially a business matter,” Wilson assured them. “No one is better at such dealings than Adam.”
Julia, Richard and Wilson got into the earl’s gleaming coach a short time later. Adam stood with Caroline, Emma and Milly and watched the liveried footman close the door of the vehicle.
“Heavens, what with all the excitement, I almost forgot.” Julia leaned out the window to look at Caroline, Emma and Milly. “Richard and I are hosting a ball the night after next. You must all attend, of course.”
Alarm spiked through Caroline. “Impossible. Can’t possibly make it.”
“Other plans? I know this is awfully late notice.”
Emma shook her head. “Caroline is right. The three of us cannot attend. It is very kind of you to ask.”
“But you must come,” Julia said. “The rumors of Adam’s connection to Caroline will be all over town by then. It will look very odd if you are not there.”
“Can’t be helped, I’m afraid,” Milly declared, not bothering to conceal her regret.
Adam studied the three women in turn.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Well,” Caroline began and promptly floundered to a halt.
“Difficult to explain,” Emma murmured.
“Gowns,” Milly announced baldly. “To be blunt, none of us possesses any dress suitable for such an occasion. True, we have some very nice clothes, thanks to Caroline’s new contract, but they are not at all the sort of gowns one would wear to an elegant social affair.”
“Yes, of course,” Julia replied. “I should have realized. Do not trouble yourselves with the problem of gowns. I shall call for you first thing tomorrow morning, if that will be convenient. We will pay a visit to my dressmaker. She will take care of everything.”
“But,” Caroline managed weakly, “the cost—”
“The cost will not be a problem, either,” Wilson assured them. “Have the dressmaker send the bill to Adam.”
“But,” Caroline said again.
“Consider the gowns as the fee I am paying you for your assistance in the recovery of the diary,” Adam said.
A business arrangement, Caroline thought. How depressing.
TWENTY-FOUR
“I am very uncomfortable with the notion of attending your sister’s ball,” Caroline said.
It was not the first time she had made the remark.
Following the departure of Julia, Richard and Wilson, she and Adam had avoided further questions from Emma and Milly in favor of taking a hackney cab to this quiet, tree-shaded street. Their intent was to interview Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent, the two women who had been promised a visit by a man who would offer them an excellent investment.
“Stop worrying about the damned gowns,” Adam said. A trace of impatience edged his words, probably because this was not the first time he had uttered his assurances. “Julia will see to it that you are perfectly turned out for the ball.”
“But three ball gowns and all the trimmings will cost a fortune, Adam.”
He looked amused. “Please believe me when I tell you that I am well aware of how much gowns cost. I paid for Julia’s for years before Southwood took over the task and I am still paying for Jessica’s.” The carriage halted. Adam checked a note he had made. “This appears to be the address we are looking for. I suggest we cease this rather repetitive discussion and proceed with business.”
“Repetitive? I am not repetitive. Are you implying that I repeat myself?”
He smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of even hinting at such a thing. Are you ready to talk to Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent?”
She forced herself to concentrate on the matter at hand. “Yes, of course. You had better let me ask most of the questions. Remember, they know you as my assistant, Mr. Grove.”
“I shall try to remember my place.”
They descended from the cab and went up the steps. Adam banged the knocker twice. The door opened a moment later. A young, frowsy-looking housekeeper in a worn apron peered out.
“What can I do for ye?” she asked.
“We are here to see Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent,” Adam said. “You may tell them that Mrs. Fordyce and Mr. Grove wish to speak with them.”
The housekeeper frowned. “Wait here, please.”
She returned a moment later and ushered Adam and Caroline into a tiny, gloomy parlor.
Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent were delighted to see them.
“This is, indeed, an honor, Mrs. Fordyce,” Miss Brick exclaimed. “We have never had an author call on us. Will you take tea?”
“Tea would be lovely,” Caroline said and sat down on a squat sofa covered in green velvet. The fabric was thin and shiny from long years of wear. “Thank you for seeing us. Mr. Grove a
nd I have some questions concerning the events that followed Mrs. Toller’s séance.”
Adam went to stand near the fireplace, one hand braced on the mantel. Caroline knew that he was watching the expressions on the faces of both women closely. Neither betrayed any indication that they had yet heard of the murder of the medium.
“It was certainly a very satisfactory sitting,” Miss Brick said.
“It was so good to speak with our generous friend on the Other Side,” Mrs. Trent added.
Caroline smiled. “As I told you last night, I am researching the business of séances and mediums with the assistance of Mr. Grove. One of the most important questions one must ask is how much of what a medium predicts comes to pass.”
Mrs. Trent made a tut-tutting sound. “There are so many frauds about these days. But we can assure you that Mrs. Toller’s talent is quite genuine.”
Adam moved slightly. “Then you did, indeed, receive a visit from a gentleman offering the opportunity of a lucrative investment?”
“Oh my, yes,” Miss Brick said. “He showed up early this morning. We were still at breakfast when he called.”
“Can you describe him?” Adam asked.
Caroline could see that the ladies were taken aback by the question.
“A description would be quite helpful for my research,” she said quickly.
That seemed to ease the concerns of both women.
“Yes, well, let me think,” Miss Brick said. “His name was Mr. Jones. He had a most unfortunate limp. His entire body was somewhat twisted. I suspect he suffered some dreadful illness as a child that affected his posture.”
“Very sad.” Mrs. Trent sighed. “Such a pleasant gentleman. Excellent manners. Oh, he wore gold-rimmed spectacles.”
Miss Brick narrowed her eyes. “Too many whiskers, if you ask me. He could have done with a trim.”
Caroline glanced at Adam.
“You say Jones limped?” Adam asked.
Miss Brick nodded. “Rather badly, I’m afraid.”
“Which leg?” Caroline asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Miss Brick frowned. “Oh, I see what you mean. I can’t recall if it was the right or the left. Can you, Sally?”