“What a splendid notion, Señyor Rey. And when we do, we shall request an audience with the governor or matron of the workhouse.” I suspected the doorkeeper knew exactly why I was there and did not wish for his part in it to be revealed. In that I was soon to be proven at least partially correct.
“No! No…there is no need to trouble them. Just ask me yer questions and I will answer them as best I can,” he said with a grimace I thought some might consider a smile.
“Very well. It is said that a young woman by the name of Janie Cooper was present at the workhouse one day and was gone the next. What can you tell me about her?”
“Other than all of those moles upon her face, nothin’! I were told that she went to the Dark Room to pay for her crime of drinking Geneva.”
“Has she not returned from this dark room?” I asked.
“’Tis her second offense so she won’t get out for the better part of three mon’s.”
“Three months! That seems a great deal of time for a crime so paltry as taking a drink.”
“Workhouse rules! We don’t have any use for ruffians and their evil acts.”
“And yet, here you are,” I mused.
“I, a Catalanian, could not have said this any better, my lord.” Rey’s words were for me alone, but he stared up into the bloodshot eyes of the doorkeeper with the ferocity of a dog guarding his favorite bone. One moment longer and I feared he should growl.
I hastened to provide a distraction. “Might I speak to Lizzie Wright? I am given to understand she might be able to tell us something of use.”
The doorkeeper had the grace to look abashed. “’Tis said it was she who informed the Matron as to what Janie had done. I confess, she might be dead, but if she wuz killed here at the workhouse, her body ain’t been found. O’course she might have been done away with for the six-pence she was given as a reward for her loose tongue.”
“It would seem that the workhouse is a dangerous place,” I murmured to Rey. I returned my attention to the doorkeeper. “Can you tell me what has happened to Betty Pitchfork? She was hired out of the workhouse to be a maid at Manwaring House and has since disappeared from there.”
“How am I to know what you swells do with your servants?” he demanded.
“It is not your betters under discussion,” I informed him pleasantly enough.
“Isn’t it? Those who go into service from here oft return to visi’ those they left behind. That’s at least two who went to Manwaring House who never did come back, not once!”
“Is that so?” Rey and I exchanged a glance. “What are your suspicions on the matter, then?”
“Don’t have none, jus’ know ‘tis queer that they ain’t come back.”
“Are you certain they are the only two?”
“Well, Kat Davies is well and truly gone. Not that she is missed with that face of her’n.”
“It does not become one to speak ill of the dead.”
“W’at?”
I perceived that my admonition was akin to casting pearls before swine. “Let us return to the subject of those who have disappeared. Has Janie Cooper truly been banished to this dark room you speak of, or could she have gone the way of the others?”
“I dunno. I never go into that part o’the house.”
“Do you suppose you might be able to discern the truth?”
“For a bit of blunt, I could find out anythin’.”
I reached into my coat for my purse. “I shall return to hear what you have learned. So long as it is the truth, we shall deal well with one another.” I placed a coin in his out-stretched hand. “See that you do not spend it on gin.”
The doorkeeper rumbled with laughter. Behind his shaking shoulder, I saw Throckmorton emerge from the house. I turned to Rey. “He is coming. Let us make haste.”
“Si, my lord,” Rey said, and the two of us repaired to the far side of the gate. I turned my back on it and adopted an air of nonchalance, one hand on my hip, whilst Rey, obscured by my height, kept watch from over my shoulder. (Or, if I am to be entirely truthful, under it.)
“He has come out of the gate and is returning back the way we have come,” Rey reported.
I slowly turned to observe Throckmorton walking briskly in the direction of Mayfair. “Let us return to Hampton House in my carriage. There is a question I wish to pose to his mistress before he returns to her side.”
“Oh, but she is most indisposed, my lord. She is not at home to callers.”
I watched the retreating Throckmorton and nursed dark thoughts. “She will be at home for this.”
Chapter Eight
As Rey’s guest, I was admitted readily into the house. With a nod of dismissal for the butler, he ushered me up to the first-floor salon. We were most surprised, however, to find it already occupied by Lady Vawdrey, Mrs. Woodmansey, and the commendable Miss Woodmansey.
“Trevelin!” Lady Vawdrey barked. “Who allowed you to enter?”
“It was I who has done this,” Rey quickly admitted. “I had thought you resting in your chamber and that we should have the room to ourselves.”
“I am most pleased,” I said with a smile for Miss Woodmansey. She favored me with a radiant smile in return. It seemed that she was one young lady who did not see a scar every time she gazed upon my face. ‘Twas most refreshing.
“How do you allow such a person into your house?” Mrs. Woodmansey demanded.
“I confess, he is an acquired taste,” Lady Vawdrey said with a dismissive wave of her shriveled hand.
“I cannot perceive why one should wish to acquire such,” Mrs. Woodmansey said haughtily.
“Dear Señyor Rey,” I drawled as I lifted my quizzing glass through which to observe Mrs. Woodmansey. “Note how she lifts all save one of her chins. Pray, how does she manage it?”
Rey gasped like an old woman, specifically, Lady Vawdrey. I never saw two such disparate creatures resemble one another so closely. Meanwhile, the singular Miss Woodmansey’s face turned pink with the effort of repressing her laughter. Oh, to have the pleasure of kissing such seditious lips, I thought. The thunderous look on Mrs. Woodmansey’s face, however, gave me pause.
Faster than I thought possible, Rey drew a chair to her side. He spoke to her in tones of such gentleness that order was soon restored to her features. I, however, paid no heed to his words; I was fully occupied in the sharing of a meaningful glance with the daughter. It seemed an age since a young woman had favored my face with the heat of her gaze for so long. As I unabashedly looked back the pink in her cheeks spread delightfully to her ears, and her eyes seemed to shine. Suddenly I realized I had no more than a moment to speak with her before her mother interfered.
I made no secret of the need for haste as I strode to where Miss Woodmansey sat upon the sofa, took her hand in mine, and kissed it. I knew that Lady Vawdrey watched, so I did not delay in releasing the tiny hand. Miss Woodmansey used it to brush the seat next to her and I lost no time in acting on her suggestion.
“Miss Woodmansey,” I murmured once I had sat, “you have no idea how I have longed to speak with you.”
“Do I not?” she asked in a voice that tantalized.
The breath caught in my throat. I thought perhaps she merely toyed with me, but proceeded as if she had not. “I should very much enjoy the pleasure of your company in a more discreet setting.” Even should she be willing, I had no idea how I should accomplish such. This lack of knowledge did nothing to dissuade me.
She smiled. “And I should very much enjoy assisting you in your search for Johnny Gilbert’s killer.”
“Should you?” I was surprised at this admission. “It is no work for delicate young ladies.”
“I had not realized,” she murmured, her expression coy, “there was one in the room.”
Utterly captivated, I gave her my best smile in appreciation for her cleverness as my mind madly churned. If she were to attend the gaming hell with Rey and myself, her mother need never know she had been in my presence. “D
o you enjoy gambling, Miss Woodmansey?” I all but whispered.
She rolled her eyes. “I am my father’s daughter, am I not? But I do not think it a horse race to which you refer.”
“Indeed, I do not; an illegal gaming den. What think you of that?”
Her eyes glittered. “I think it sounds most thrilling.”
My heart soared like a bird on the wing. “That is excellent,” I said as calmly as the beating of my heart allowed. “Rey shall call on you at nine of the clock this very night.”
“Nine? Is that not terribly early for such dangerous doings?” she asked excitedly.
“He can hardly knock upon the door any later; what would your mother think?”
“She attends a lecture this evening on the Formation of Religious and Moral Principles for Women and expects me to attend, as well. I have been dreading it lo these many days. I shall claim a sick headache and slip out the front door at half past ten. Shall that do?”
Enchanted, I approved her plan. “We shall be there with the carriage and drive you ‘round to Berkeley Square.”
“Berkeley Square? We do not go to Hampton House again tonight?” she asked, astonished.
“No, but near to it. I shall explain all when there are none to overhear.”
“Desdemona!” Mrs. Woodmansey called. “It is time we take our leave.”
“Yes, of course, Mama.”
Rey and I rose, whereupon the Woodmanseys rose also and took their leave of Lady Vawdrey. I fixed my gaze upon Miss Woodmansey until she disappeared behind the closed door. So lost was I in my thoughts of her that I did not at first hear Lady Vawdrey address me.
“Trevelin! How good of you to call on me when I am indisposed,” she said, her tone sharp as a knife.
I turned and gave her a bow of contrition. “Señyor Rey informed me that you are feeling low, but I hoped you might see me on a matter of some urgency.”
She appeared mollified. “Out with it, then! I am recovered, thought doubtless a relapse is imminent.”
I had had my warning and knew that I must tread carefully. “Many thanks. What I have to say has to do with Throckmorton. The housekeeper at Gilbert House has reported that your man came to the kitchen last week to ask for the cook’s recipe for jugged hare.”
“So? What is remarkable in that?” She dropped her jaw in an over-abundance of surprise so that her already-long face took on fantastic proportions.
I was obliged to look away. “He claims to have gone at your request.”
“Why should I need the recipe to that? Jugged hare!” she demanded. “What is there to know?”
“She claims you have a special fondness for her cook’s particular recipe. Do you not?”
“No, I do not! My cook’s recipe is perfectly adequate.”
“If you say so, but I’m afraid it makes Throckmorton appear to be guilty of Johnny’s murder.”
“But, why?” Lady Vawdrey, who had been lounging on the divan, jerked upright. “You are touched in the head, Trevelin!”
“We must consider the facts. Throckmorton visited the Gilberts’ kitchen the day prior to the murder, the same day the key to the kitchen door was taken. If he did not have a reason to be there—and it sounds as if jugged hare is not sufficient reason—then he must have been there for some other purpose.”
“Oh, that!” she said with a sigh of relief. “He must have his eye on one of the girls in the kitchen.”
I opened my mouth to correct her, but caught Rey’s expression of alarm. “I am certain you are right.” It was an utter pretense and I hated to say the words. “I ought to have arrived at that conclusion on my own.”
“Yes, you ought to have! What is the trouble with that mind of yours, Trevelin? And to think it is upon you that my hopes rest,” she said with a tsk.
I decided I had had enough of her insults. “We shall leave you to rest. I should be sorry were you to relapse,” I insisted, and motioned to Rey to follow me from the room. He gave Lady Vawdrey a bow and glared at me with his black eyes until I did the same. My bow was far sketchier, as I bolted for the door. I continued to move at a speed less than genteel until we gained the ground floor.
Rey led me into the study where a fire burned merrily in the grate. “I spend a great deal of time in here,” he explained, “as I am not always of the most sociable disposition when Lady Vawdrey entertains callers.”
“This is more than sufficient.” I ensconced myself in a chair next to Rey’s and the two of us contemplated the dancing of the flames whilst we collected our thoughts.
“Are you of the opinion that the jugged hare recipe has put Throckmorton in a bad light?” Rey asked.
“I confess I am of two minds on the matter. On the one hand, Lady Vawdrey denies that she ever requested the recipe for jugged hare from the Gilberts’ cook and I thoroughly agree; how many ways might there be to prepare such mundane fare? On the other hand, perhaps the Gilberts’ cook has landed upon something unique, in which case Lady Vawdrey would most certainly want the recipe. If so, her claims that she did not ask for it can mean very little.”
“Si,” Rey said with a fierce bob of his head, “she would wish it to seem that her jugged hare was always the best jugged hare in London.”
“Precisament!”
“My lord,” Rey asked in fervent tones. “Do you speak the Catalan?”
“Not at all. I know some Continental Spanish. It is short work to make the adjustment to Catalan for such a word. It is you, Señyor, who is admirable. How many languages do you speak?”
He had the grace to blush. “Eleven, my lord. I should like to add a twelfth when I am more at leisure.”
I was duly impressed. “Do you offer lessons in all or only in your native tongue?”
“I teach all of the languages I know to those who have the aptitude to learn!”
“And Lady Vawdrey? She wished to learn Catalan?” Somehow I could not believe it was her foremost reason for having Señyor Rey in her home. I had no wish to enlighten him on the subject, however. I suspected if he knew how much pleasure she derived as an incomparable matchmaker, his pride would doubtless be wounded.
“But, of course. Have I not said so?” He spread his hands wide. “She is not a very apt pupil, however. I find that I must remain in England longer than I had anticipated.”
His protestations served only to bring Miss Woodmansey immediately to mind. Perhaps she was proving more difficult to woo and win than he had presumed. “Perhaps, whilst you are among us, you might have time to tutor me in a language.”
“I should enjoy that very much.” He gave me a warm smile.
“So should I,” I said with utter sincerity. However, the language I most felt the lack of was that of love. It seemed I knew little as to the wooing of women. Miss Woodmansey’s face appeared before my eyes and I knew the time had come to inform Rey of my intentions—at least those having to do with the Manwarings. “Señyor Rey, I am to attend Lady Clara’s gambling hell tonight. I should like you to come as well.”
“Are you most certain it is a true card party this time?” he asked, half-doubtful, half-sly.
Though I thought his attempt at guile amusing, I ignored it. “I know nothing for certain, but she assures me there shall be others in attendance. At any rate, if there are not you shall be present to protect my virtue.” I could see by the twinkle in his eye that he very much liked the idea of acting as my champion. The man truly had no notion of how ridiculous the notion appeared, he being so very short and I being taller than most men.
“I have a pistol in my chamber. I ought to bring it along, ought I not?”
“Ah! If that is a yes, then I accept. However, I should think firearms not needful. There is something else I must tell you, however. I have invited another to accompany us and I shall need you to assist me, or it shall not be possible.”
Rey sat taller in his chair and shook his pitch-black curls. “I shall be most honored to assist. What is it that I must do?”
I r
equired a moment to quell my laughter before I replied. “I have invited a woman,” I all but choked, “one who has expressed an interest in helping us discover Johnny’s killer.”
“Ah, yes, Lady Vawdrey. She shall be a useful one to bring with us, is this not so?”
“Not Lady Vawdrey. This woman is younger. I shall need you to call for her so that she may join the two of us in the carriage. It shall be rather late and I do not wish to sully her reputation should any see her with me prior to our arrival at Manwaring House.”
“But, it is to a gambling hell we are going, is it not? None will speak of having seen her there, for fear they shall betray themselves.”
“One should hope.” I drew a deep breath; the worst was to come. “The young lady whom we shall retrieve tonight at half past ten is Miss Woodmansey.”
His face turned a dusky red. “No! She is a young lady most virtuous! She would never agree to go with two men, with no chaperone, and to such a place!”
“She has already, my friend. But do not fret—we shall treat her with the utmost respect and guard well her identity.”
He looked at me as if I had run mad. “How are we to accomplish this? And how is she to help us if she is not to be discovered? She is to wear a mask? And not speak?” His face darkened more than I had thought possible. “I say again, no!”
I found that I could not adequately address his concerns. I had invited her so that I might bask in the glow of her presence, and she had agreed because she wished…what? To bask in the glow of Rey’s? She claimed to wish to help solve the mystery of Johnny’s death, and I felt the truth in that, at least. However, to my horror, I realized that I had taken no thought for her reputation. It seemed I was going from bad to worse when it came to the seeking of a young lady’s hand in marriage.
“Señyor Rey, I find that you are wiser than I. Miss Woodmansey expressed a wish to assist us in our quest, but I did not give proper care to her reputation. I perceive her to be intrepid and determined. She quickly arrived at a plan that would make it possible for her to accompany us without her parents’ knowledge, but I can see now that I have been quite wrong.”
The Devil in Beauty: A Lord Trevelin Mystery (The Lord Trevelin Mysteries Book 1) Page 11