by Jade Lee
Irene nodded and stepped over to the desk. “Of course, of course. You’re right. Whatever else is going on, we must make sure the shop thrives.”
“And to that end,” Samuel said as he hopped up from his chair, “Miss Shoemaker and I shall be off to inspect some smoke.” He winked at Penny. “That’s me being clever as I refer to seeing the solicitor.”
“Yes,” she returned. “I understood that.”
“Oh!” he added as he turned to Tabby. “There’s a man near Bond Street, has a room right above the Salty Dog. Name’s Bert Keigley and he owes me a favor. Tell him that I sent you—Samuel Morrison—and he’ll fit you with glasses right away. Should help with your sewing.”
“Glasses!” gasped Wendy. “But she can see better than anyone. Spotted you when you were still down the street and I couldn’t see a thing.”
“Ah, but that’s just the problem, isn’t it?” he said to the girl. “You can see at a distance, but up close is a blur. You’re farsighted, my dear, and that can be corrected with a pair of glasses. Then I expect your stitches will be as neat as a pin.”
Tabby didn’t say a word, but the way her eyes widened and she pressed a hand to her mouth told them everything they needed to know. She was indeed farsighted.
“But how did you know?” asked Penny.
“Look at her workstation,” he said as he gestured over to the corner where the girl usually worked. “Everything as neat as a pin, but set far away from her chair and with as much wide space as possible from each other. That plus her terrible work and the fact that she did indeed point us out when we were over a block away make the conclusion obvious.” Then he turned and rapidly wrote out a note on some paper lying on Helaine’s desk. When he was done, he sanded it quickly and handed it to Tabby. “Give this to Bert and he’ll fix you up right and tight. Give you a good deal, too, and let you pay in pieces as you get the coin.” He glanced significantly at the bolts of cloth stacked six high on the nearest table. “Best go now. He needs time to grind the lens and you need to be back here earning your keep as soon as possible.”
Tabby took the note in a shaking hand, at last finding her voice. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Oh, thank you, sir!” Then she was gone in a flash, disappearing without even grabbing a coat.
Meanwhile, Samuel was turning his winning smile back to Penny. “Ready to sniff at some smoke then, Miss Shoemaker?”
“Of course, Mr. Morrison. Let us go immediately.” She didn’t say that when he smiled at her, she was more than willing to go to an evil solicitor’s office. Indeed, she was willing to go anywhere at all with him. She would put her hand in his and happily walk right up to the devil himself.
And that, she realized, was a very worrisome state of affairs. Fortunately, she was too distracted by his smile to allow herself to dwell on that fear. Besides, she rationalized, he was a nice man and a gentleman. How dangerous could he be?
Chapter 6
Penny had never been in a solicitor’s office before. It was the province of men and so she was predisposed to awe the moment she stepped in the front door. But even with that, she could see that the offices of Mr. Addicock, solicitor at law, had seen better days. It wasn’t necessarily the dirt on the floor or the odor of smoke, but the complete absence of a woman. She saw a boy barely into his teens hunched over a desk writing something and that was all.
Perhaps this was how law offices worked, but Penny guessed that the most prestigious ones had a woman to serve tea and another to dust and clean. Butlers, footmen, and the like were all well and good, but there was something about a woman’s eye that made a place brighter. Or at least a good deal cleaner.
She glanced at Samuel and saw that he was observing everything with his own keen eye, but she read no judgment on his face. Simple observation without emotion. Then he abruptly rapped his knuckles on the boy’s desk and shifted into a charming and rather stupid smile.
“Ho there, boy. Busy copying, what? Tedious work. I quite admire the way you do that, hunched over all day. Been doing it long, what?”
“Ever’ day, all day,” the child mumbled.
“Ugh! Tedious, I’ll bet. And you have been working here forever, I’ll wager. Probably feels like an age, when you’ve only been here, what? A year at most?”
“Three months. Next week.”
“Oh, early days then. But at least the pay’s good, right?”
The child rolled his eyes, and now that he’d actually lifted his head, Penny could see that he was older than she’d expected. More like eighteen or nineteen.
“Pay’s shit, and that’s when he remembers t’ pay. But he’s nice enough.” Then he leaned back and stretched out his back with a grunt. “You’ll be wanting to see him, then, but he ain’t here.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Samuel answered with a shrug. “This lady here’s his client. Managing a trust for her brother. Thomas Shoemaker? She’s here to talk—”
“Oy, that’s you then,” he said as his gaze turned to her. “He said you’d be round, probably screaming and wailing. That I wasn’t to let you in and to call the constable directly.”
Penny lifted her hands and tried to force a smile. “I’m not screaming or wailing.”
The boy frowned. “No, you ain’t.”
“Nor is she likely to,” added Samuel. “I’m here and this is a happy visit. Not often that a woman’s brother gets a fat lot of money for the sale of her home, what?”
Penny looked at Samuel in surprise. She didn’t want to sell her home. She wanted it back! But of course, he was smiling happily down at the boy, sparing her the smallest glance. Obviously, he had a plan, so she reinforced her genial smile. She ought to be worried at how quickly she had come to trust Samuel, but that, too, was pushed aside as she focused on looking as far from a hysterical woman as possible.
Meanwhile Samuel gestured to the only other door in the room. “That go to his office then?”
The boy stood up, obviously alarmed. “But he ain’t in there—”
Samuel dropped a friendly hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I know, I know. If I were to guess, I’d say he’s holed up somewhere close. Left you high and dry to deal with a wailing woman.”
The boy’s expression shifted to a disgusted grimace. “’At’s me job,” he said with a kind of grunt.
“Really? I thought your job was to copy papers and such. Filings and the like. You know, the job of a clerk. Not to play nursemaid to screaming women.”
Obviously the boy hadn’t thought of that, and obviously this was just the right tack to take. His expression tightened in a sulky kind of disobedience. “’At’s what I says,” he grumbled. “But ’e don’t listen.”
“No, his type never does. But tell you what, old boy, turns out that this is a happy day, the lady isn’t screaming, and you don’t have to call the constable on anybody.” Then he tossed the kid a tuppence. “Why don’t you run over and tell Mr. Addicock that the lady’s excited to see him while we wait here.”
The boy shook his head, but with some regret even as he pocketed the tuppence. “I ain’t supposed to let anyone in here. Not without Mr. Addicock.”
“Of course, of course,” said Samuel with a nod. “But we’re not just anybody. The lady’s a client. And you’ll be going to get Mr. Addicock, won’t you? His office is locked, ain’t it?” Just to prove it, Samuel rattled the doorknob. “’Sides, he’ll be happy to know that she’s not screaming, won’t he? Come on. It ain’t your job to be sitting here nursemaiding anyway. Not when your hand is so neat and the copying so perfect.” He pointed to the papers the boy had been writing so carefully.
The boy was giving in. Penny could see it, but he wasn’t quite convinced yet. So she decided it was time she played her own hand, though it turned her stomach to do it. She smiled sweetly in just the way that she did for very difficult customers. She was warm and friendly, and she lowered her head slightly in a show of humility.
“I’d be very grateful,” she said. “And I promi
se not to descend into any sort of hysterics at all. I swear!” She said it with a kind of giggle that only the very birdbrained released.
It worked. The boy colored up to his ears and ducked his head. This was, of course, exactly why women acted the fool. Because it made men fools. She glanced sideways to see if Samuel was affected.
He was, but not how she’d hoped. He was watching her with his eyes narrowed, and his color raised. She had no idea what that meant. For all she knew, he could be suffering a moment of dyspepsia. But then the expression was lost beneath his congenial expression.
Meanwhile she touched the boy’s arm. “I am afraid you have the advantage of me, sir,” she said as breathlessly as possible. And when the boy didn’t answer, she smiled. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
It took him a moment that involved several blinks and a gasp. But then he ducked his head. “Um, Ned, mum. Ned Wilkers.”
She gave him her best curtsy. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ned Wilkers.”
Beside her, Samuel grimaced. Probably at how easily Ned was becoming flustered. Rather than allow the boy to see Mr. Morrison’s disgusted expression, Penny stepped forward right up to poor Ned. Any closer and she’d be in his lap.
“Please, Mr. Wilkers, I want so much to thank Mr. Addicock in person. I’m so thrilled with what he’s done.” It was a miracle she didn’t choke on her words. “Would you get him for me, please?”
He hesitated even as she lifted him out of his chair and began guiding him to the door. “Um—” he began, but she giggled again.
“We won’t bother a thing. I promise.”
“But—”
“Go on,” Samuel urged the boy. “Bad form to keep a lady and a client waiting, what.”
Ned took a breath, looked a little sweetly at her, and then nodded. “Right away, miss. Right away!” Then he dashed off without even remembering his cap.
The moment the door shut, Penny exhaled in relief and turned to Samuel. “He’s gone. Now what?” But her voice trailed off. Obviously, Samuel already knew what he wanted to do. He was at Mr. Addicock’s door with a lock pick in his hands.
“Lock the front door. It’ll delay them when they return.”
She did as he’d bade, using the key that was hanging on a peg right in plain sight. By the time she’d finished, he had opened the door to Addicock’s office and was releasing a low whistle.
“Our intrepid solicitor is not a man who likes to file.”
Penny looked around and couldn’t help agreeing. She had thought her own father was a slob with everything but his tools. He used to leave receipts everywhere, mixed in with leather scraps and the odd pound note. But at least her father had both herself and her mother to keep things in order. Apparently, Mr. Addicock had no such females in his life. Pile after pile of papers rested haphazardly next to cold tea and the remains of a very old meat pie.
She grimaced, scanning the floor for the telltale signs of vermin infestation. Sadly, she found them easily. “Mind where you step,” she warned. Who knew what creature might attack if its nest was disturbed.
Samuel apparently didn’t hear her as he was already sorting through the pile on the man’s desk. She stepped to a different pile—on a rickety bench like a schoolchild might once have used before it was discarded to the rubbish bin—and began looking at the papers there.
“What is all this?” she asked.
He didn’t even glance up. “Can you read?”
She stiffened, knowing it was a reasonable question, but insulted nonetheless. “I had an excellent education,” she lied.
He did look up at that, a slight frown on his face and a gaming token in his hand. “I didn’t ask about your education, I asked if you could read.”
She grimaced and spoke in stiff accents. “Yes, I can read.”
“Excellent. So read. We are looking for your father’s will or anything that has to do with you or your brother. Try not to disturb the piles overmuch. We are working in secret, though I doubt Mr. Addicock would notice if we tossed everything here into the air.” Then he returned to the pile on the desk. She stared at him a moment, watching the way he worked. His eyes were narrowed, his entire body focused and intent. Then without even glancing up, he added, “We are working against time, Penny. After that display of yours, young Ned will rush back to your side. I would have preferred it if you had begun some waterworks. That would have pushed him out the door faster and delayed his return.”
“Or it would have had him calling for the constable as he was told to do once I descended into hysterics.”
He shifted to a different pile, his hands moving methodically. “Which would have left us alone in here as well. It is not as if he could snap his fingers and have the man appear. One has to go search for the constable who, I’ll wager, would not be anxious to appear. Yes, all in all, waterworks would have been the more logical choice.”
“Of all the—”
“Please, Penny. We are short of time. If you do not wish to search the pages, at least step outside and watch for Ned’s return.”
She clenched her teeth against the words that were burning like acid on her tongue. “High-handed bastard” was the kindest epitaph she had for the man. But that would have served no purpose. So she held her tongue—though only barely—as she set to searching her pile of documents.
She was inordinately pleased when she came across exactly what they were looking for. Her father’s Last Will and Testament. She held it up with a gasp, reading the document as best she could. Many of the words were unfamiliar to her, the legal language looking closer to French than anything else.
“Damnation,” he cursed, and she jumped because she hadn’t even realized he’d made it to her side. “No wonder the man pays young Ned. His own handwriting is deplorable.”
True, but Penny’s father’s hand had been equally cramped. She could make out the letters easily enough. It was just the meaning that was lost. So she pointed, reading the words aloud.
“‘This is the Last Will and Testament of Carson Shoemaker. In the name of God. Amen. I, Carson Shoemaker—”
“Yes, yes. I can see that.” He pulled it out of her hand, then promptly stuck it under her nose and pointed. “Is that your father’s signature?”
She looked, her heart dropping into her stomach. It certainly looked like her father’s signature. “But it can’t be true!” she gasped. “He’d never do it!”
“Is it his signature?” Samuel repeated. “Or just a reasonable copy?”
She shook her head. She had no idea. She’d seen her father’s signature perhaps a dozen times in her life. She knew his handwriting like the back of her hand, but his signature? “He usually just wrote an S in the shape of a shoe.”
“That would not be his legal signature then. What about these other names? The witnesses, do you know them?”
She frowned and shook her head. “Never heard of them.”
He nodded as if he had expected as much. Then he took the paper to the desk and began rooting about for something. “Look for the bill of sale for your property. And if it mentions the bank, all the better.”
She nodded and began searching, all too aware that they were running out of time. But she still kept an eye on him as he found a sheet of paper. “What are you doing?”
“Copying the signatures,” he said as he carefully placed the blank paper over the fake will.
She wasn’t finding anything about the sale to Cordwain, so she returned to his side. “Just rip up the thing. It’s not true!”
Samuel didn’t answer, too intent on his work. She wasn’t sure how he managed. The foolscap was thin, but not thin enough to see through clearly. But when he lifted up the page and compared it to the original, the ink was surprisingly accurate.
But it didn’t matter. If a piece of paper could declare Addicock as Tommy’s guardian, then ripping up the lying paper would return things to normal. So thinking, she grabbed the page. Or she tried to. The damn toff was
faster than she was, easily lifting the sheet out of her reach.
“You can’t destroy it,” he said as he moved back to the pile where she’d first found it.
“I bloody well can!”
He carefully replaced the sheet exactly where she’d first lifted it. How he knew the place was beyond her, but he did. “You’re supposed to be a lady, Penny,” he said without heat. “Do watch your language.”
She stepped up and meant to shove him aside. That damned will was going to be destroyed, but the toff was a great deal stronger than he looked. He easily held her off.
“Be logical, Penny. This is not the only copy. The important one was already filed into the courts. That’s the one that must be proved false.”
“But it’s not true!” She knew she wasn’t being reasonable. She knew that it was not the way to argue with Samuel. She knew, but she couldn’t stop the tears from threatening or the frustration from burning in her gut.
He sighed, looking at her with an impatient kind of sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak, but there wasn’t time. They both heard voices arguing from the front office.
They shared a panicked glance, then quickly dashed out of the office. “Get ready to delay them while I relock the door.”
“Delay them?” she hissed. “How?”
“Hysterics, anger, drunkenness. Good heaven, how should I know?” he shot back. “Now be quiet. This requires concentration.”
She would bloody well like to tell him what required concentration: trying to think of a way to hide a gent who was in full view, but she bit back her retort. Instead she laughed loudly and leaned against the door.