Scandal Above Stairs

by Jennifer Ashley

  Moss jerked around, off balance, and roared, “I’ll have your badges, all of you! You’ve ruined your career, McGregor.”

  “No, sir.” McGregor’s head was up, his eyes sparkling. “I’d say you’ve ruined yours.”

  A strong hand, Daniel’s, closed over mine and took the revolver out of it. Daniel popped the chamber open and let the bullets slide out into his hand.

  Tess, Lady Cynthia, and James were panting, wild-eyed, as the constables surrounded Pilcher. Daniel made his way toward the large man, white patches about Daniel’s eyes and lips.

  He stepped close to Pilcher and said clearly, “I want Naismith. How about we pay him a visit? Right now.”

  Pilcher stared at Daniel and the gun in his hand, and his ruddy face paled. He must have seen Daniel unload the pistol, but Daniel’s eyes were cold and hard, and the pistol and bullets were ready to hand.

  Pilcher snarled like an animal. He flung off the constables as though they were sparrows trying to hold him down, and bolted out of the door.

  Daniel charged after him. “No, you don’t!”

  I ran out behind them both.

  The Strand this afternoon was a crush of cabs; private carriages; wagons delivering beer, produce, ice, and dry goods; and carts carrying lumber, machinery, livestock—all manner of things. Pilcher dove between wheels and horses’ hooves, twisting and turning as he sprinted desperately away from Daniel.

  Daniel pounded after him. I jumped back to the walkway a second before I could be clipped by a carriage wheel, and decided to stay put.

  “Dad!” James was past me in a second, his lithe body moving through the traffic with ease. “I’ll get ’im!”

  Pilcher ran down the middle of the street, earning curses and yells, but the man was obviously used to navigating the arteries of London. Daniel was hampered by a large wagon that drove into a relatively empty space between cabs, but James, with his youthful energy and slimness, sprinted after Pilcher.

  Pilcher gained the other side of the road near the Adelphi, and James plunged after him, Daniel not far behind. I hurried down my side of the road, struggling to keep them all in sight. I heard Tess panting after me, calling my name.

  Daniel reached the other side of the street a way down from Pilcher and resumed his chase. James ducked and dodged through traffic, his youthful stride rapid.

  I was not certain how it happened. One moment, James’s cloth-capped head was bobbing along between the carts, the next, it disappeared completely.

  Shouts and cries sounded, carts and carriages halted abruptly, and horses danced aside, sparks showering from hooves on the cobbles. I saw Daniel stop, horror on his face, his mouth opening in a yell I heard even over the traffic.

  “James!”

  A carter stood up on his bench. “Bloody hell!” he yelled, wide-eyed. “He ran right under me wheels!”

  Pilcher disappeared around a corner, gone. Daniel didn’t even mark his passage. He left the relative safety of the walkway and plunged into the road, heading straight for James.

  I lifted my skirts and dodged and wove through the traffic, Tess behind me.

  I reached the cart, the driver on the ground now, holding the nervous horses. Daniel knelt on the pavement, lifting James. The lad’s face was creased with dirt and blood, his eyes closed.

  Daniel gathered James close, holding his son against his chest, rocking him.

  I dropped beside them, hand on James’s shoulder. “Daniel . . .”

  Daniel’s eyes burned as he looked over James’s head at me. I saw fear, self-loathing, and terrible rage. I also saw grief. In that moment, I knew what Daniel’s son meant to him—the same as my daughter meant to me. No matter how casual he might seem regarding James, no matter how much he let James roam, Daniel loved the boy with a ferocity he let on to no one. Daniel had already lost so much, but I abruptly understood that if he lost James, he’d believe that everything he had done in life would count for nothing.

  I ran my hands along James’s shoulder to his throat, feeling the flutter of his pulse. “We must get him to a doctor,” I said. “Daniel—”

  Daniel stared at me without seeing me before clarity returned to his eyes and he gave a curt nod. I started to help him up, and then Tess was beside us, her hands going to James to assist in lifting him.

  “You,” I said to the carter. “Make room in your wagon. We need to get him through this crush to a doctor.”

  The carter was near to tears. “I never saw him. He popped out o’ nowhere.”

  “I know, I saw. Now help me fix a place where he can lie down. At once.”

  My command, delivered with just the right amount of sharpness, galvanized him. The carter hurried to the back of his wagon and shoved bags of produce this way and that until there was space to lay James.

  Others had stopped to assist, holding the horses and wagon steady, directing vehicles out of the way. Daniel carried his son and laid him down, his movements gentle. He climbed up beside him then reached a hand for me.

  “Kat,” he said. “Please.”

  Tess pushed me up before I could speak, though I had every intention of going with him. “Go on, Mrs. H.,” Tess said. “I’ll get Lady Cynthia home and the breakfast made and everything. Take care of the poor mite. He’s a good lad.”

  “Yes, thank you, Tess.”

  She gave me an encouraging smile, this kindhearted young woman who had already proved an asset to me.

  The cart began with a jerk, the carter determined to bull his way through the halted vehicles. “I know where is a doctor not far,” he said. “I’ll get ya there.”

  I gave Tess a wave of thanks as we bumped away, just as James fluttered open his eyes and croaked, “Dad? Did we get ’im?”

  “No, son,” Daniel said, leaning over James and stroking his hair. “But I’ve got you.”

  James gave him a confused look. I took James’s hand, holding on to him and balancing on the lumpy bags of new potatoes and parsnips, as we jolted along the Strand to save James’s life.

  26

  The doctor in question had a house in St. Martin’s Lane. The surgery was on the ground floor, with a stair that led to the doctor’s living quarters opening from the front hall.

  The woman in a gray frock with a starched apron who admitted us was not pleased at our arrival, but when the doctor saw Daniel carry in James in his arms like a baby, he was solicitousness itself.

  He helped Daniel take James into a small back room, and I watched from the doorway as Daniel laid James on a bed. Then the assistant or nurse or doctor’s wife, or whoever she was, blocked my view and pushed the door closed.

  “I’ll fetch you a cup of tea,” she said in a sharp tone. “Sit there.” She pointed at a hard chair near the front window.

  I sank down, barely noticing the chair’s discomfort. After a time, the woman brought me a pot of lukewarm and overly steeped tea and a slice of stale sponge cake before disappearing out another door.

  I sipped the tea, trying to ignore its acrid taste, but gave up on the cake after one nibble. Food should comfort, but this food could only lead to despair.

  I sat for a very long time as the clock above the doctor’s desk ticked, each passing minute like an hour. I knew I ought to leave—I had duties, a kitchen to return to, responsibilities.

  But I could not abandon Daniel. If James died, I could not let him face that alone.

  The clock had struck eight, sunshine leaking through the dusty windows, before Daniel emerged. He trudged heavily to a chair next to mine and collapsed into it.

  “James,” I said, not daring to voice anything more.

  Daniel shook his head and let out a ponderous breath. “He’ll live. He has some broken bones and a broken arm, and his head is concussed. He’ll have to stay still for several weeks.” His lips twitched and fond exasperation filled his eyes. “I d
on’t believe the doctor knows what he is asking.”

  My body unclenched as relief poured through me, and tears filled my eyes. Safe. James was safe.

  “You’ll stay with him?” I asked when I could speak again. “Live with him, I mean? Take care of him? Your rooms in Southampton Street won’t be large enough, not for the pair of you, and Mrs. Williams might not like a youth about the place—”

  “Peace, Kat.” Daniel slid his hand over mine, stilling my tumbling words. “I will move James into my rooms in Kensington. Plenty of space there.”

  “Kensington,” I repeated. “So that is where your elusive lodgings are. Do you have Mr. Thanos there?”

  “I do,” Daniel said with a nod. “I apologize for not explaining to you, but there were too many listeners around us at the time, and I wanted you to be innocently ignorant if Moss or anyone else tried to question you. Thanos does not know how to keep quiet—he’d babble all his theories about how he was poisoned and by whom to anyone who would listen, and then he’d be next on the list.”

  “You are good to take care of Mr. Thanos,” I said warmly.

  Daniel’s hand tightened on mine. “Once upon a time, Elgin Thanos took care of me. When I was young, angry, and tore into everyone around me, Thanos took me under his wing. He talked to me, man-to-man, not as gentleman’s son to a boy from the gutter. He genuinely sees no difference between us.”

  “I noticed that,” I said. “He speaks to me the same way. And to Lady Cynthia.”

  “He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.” Daniel’s tone was admiring. “I’ve been talked at plenty by reformers who say they want to help the downtrodden, but they still make you know you are one of those downtrodden and will never rise above your situation. Used to infuriate me.”

  “I understand,” I said with sympathy. “I’ve met such people.”

  “Thanos would never dream of being so condescending. If he calls you friend, you know he is sincere.” Daniel brushed his thumb over the backs of my fingers. “You are another who sees a person for who he or she is. It’s one reason I treasure you, Kat.”

  My heart squeezed, but I gave him an admonishing look. “You must be feeling better. Else you’d not revert to base flattery.”

  “It is only truth, Mrs. Holloway,” he said, no teasing in his voice.

  We sat in silence for a moment. I did not withdraw my hand, letting Daniel’s strength come to me. The clock ticked away, the sound quiet and serene.

  “But for God’s sake, Kat,” Daniel admonished after a few moments. “You must cease your inclination to charge after armed men. This is the second time you’ve rushed toward a villainous man instead of away from him.”

  I frowned. “I told you—if I see you or anyone I care for in danger, I will not stand aside and wring my hands. I will sail in and set about said villains.”

  “I know.” Daniel’s words were a groan. “What am I to do with you?”

  “You may begin by telling me all. How did you know Chief Inspector Moss was in on the plot?”

  Daniel let out a breath. “I didn’t. Not at first. He seemed genuinely interested in capturing these culprits. The thing is, if he’d stuck to simply robbing other collectors, he’d never have encountered me. It was only when the museum started having things go missing that I was called in. Certain men feared what Thanos concluded—that nationalists were trying to return antiquities to their home countries.”

  “When I first met Chief Inspector Moss, I thought he was your employer.” I gave Daniel an inquiring look, hoping he’d impart who he truly worked for, but Daniel didn’t seem to notice.

  “It was Moss who suggested I replace the pawnbroker and wait to be offered the antiquities. Thinking it through, I suppose Moss thought it would do no harm. I’d trot to him with any antiquities they brought me, and if I had the thieves arrested, he’d bang them up and bring in new ones. Moss hates criminals, that is the truth, no matter how much he says he envies them and their easy wealth. He sees them as useful tools, and I have no doubt that in the end, they’d have paid for the thefts. They could sing in the dock that Chief Inspector Moss himself had commanded them, but would they be believed? From my conversations with Varley, I gathered that Harmon did most of the hiring—Moss only paved the way and of course collected the money.” Daniel shook his head. “As Moss said, the problem with being a policeman for a long time is that you see boxes and boxes of evidence from crimes brought in—paintings, valuables, so many things stolen, so much of it never recovered. Why should a policeman live in cramped rooms barely earning a living when one item from those boxes could set him up for life? Eventually, men like Moss forget why they became coppers in the first place.”

  “The temptation grows too much for them,” I finished.

  “I suppose I can’t really blame them,” Daniel said. “Policing can be a thankless job. You have to have a core of certainty inside you, a firm belief that what you’re doing is right. And that belief has to be enough for you.”

  “I gather that Chief Inspector Moss does not have that certainty,” I said with conviction. “But Inspector McGregor does. He is fierce about weeding out corrupt men from the police. He suspected Moss from the beginning.”

  “Yes.” Daniel let out a sigh. “I will have to apologize to McGregor for not coming to him sooner and thank him at the same time. I’m not certain he’ll get a promotion for his actions, unfortunately. As much as the Yard hates corruption, they also don’t like a grass who goes against one of their own. A fine line to walk.”

  “That is hardly fair,” I said in indignation. “McGregor is right, and Moss is a bad ’un. Moss was a soldier, wasn’t he? I would think he’d have learned honor in his regiment.”

  “Yes, he was a sergeant major,” Daniel answered, confirming one of my guesses. “In Africa, fighting against the southern tribes. Soldiering is not always an honorable game, I’m sorry to say. Moss said he learned to fight dirty to win, because winning was what mattered in the end. He said it proudly. Makes me glad I never tried to be a soldier.”

  If he had, he’d have been sent to the front lines, which was where most lads from the streets ended up. Although, I thought with feeble humor, knowing Daniel, he’d have worked his way to general by now.

  “You hid McGregor in the back room of the pawnbrokers before we arrived,” I said with conviction.

  “Of course I did. I had been on my way to . . . well, a place nearby to Scotland Yard, when James came running to tell me you were heading to the pawnbrokers without delay. While that alarmed me to no end”—Daniel paused to send me a glare—“I sought McGregor and told him I could hand him all the culprits if he hid there with a contingent of men, and then I went to Moss and convinced him to come with me. McGregor was sufficiently suspicious of Moss that he summoned trusted constables and hid them nearby. I never would have let you into that shop without some way to to protect you.” Daniel lifted my hand and kissed it, but the look he sent over it was one of exasperation. “You’ll turn my hair gray, Kat.”

  I glanced at his very thick hair, which was quite dark, no danger of it becoming gray for some years. “I went to the pawnbrokers because I wanted to be certain before I put my theories before you,” I said primly. “I did send for you instead of simply going myself. And I brought Lady Cynthia for corroboration, since she’d have recognized Clemmie’s things. Tess, on the other hand, invited herself along and I had no time to send her home.”

  Daniel’s gaze was thoughtful as he listened. “Your friends are valiant, I have to say,” he said. “At least they will not let you run headlong into danger alone. But what made you begin to suspect Moss?”

  He asked with true interest. I liked that Daniel wanted to know my opinions and didn’t dismiss them. A rare thing in a male, in my experience, and another reason I was grateful for our friendship.

  “I’m not certain,” I began. “To tell the truth, I never
thought much about Chief Inspector Moss until I realized you hadn’t taken Mr. Thanos to your rooms on Southampton Street. I wondered who you worried about finding him there. I doubt Sir Evan knew where your lodgings were—or even who you were at all. Lady Cynthia has never been to your Southampton Street rooms, and I have never told her about them, as far as I can remember. So, she wouldn’t have talked about them with Clemmie, and Clemmie couldn’t have imparted such information to Sir Evan. Therefore, you weren’t worried about Sir Evan finding Mr. Thanos—which meant you were worried about someone entirely different. The fact that you did not tell me where you were taking Mr. Thanos in front of others meant that the person you wanted to evade was in Sir Evan’s house at the time. Mr. Harmon was already dead, and the only people left to suspect were Sir Evan, Clemmie, and Chief Inspector Moss. Clemmie was a victim herself, Sir Evan passed away that night, and so Chief Inspector Moss was left.” I spread my hands, as though the solution had been simple. “I asked to meet you at the pawnbrokers because I wanted to show you the box and explain why I thought the thief had been killed.”

  “You could not have simply sought me out beforehand?” Daniel asked sternly. “And told me all this? Instead of rushing straight into danger as usual?”

  I flushed. “I wanted to find the box first, as I said. And, truth to tell, I knew if I told James to bring you to the pawnbrokers, you’d be more certain to come.”

  Daniel’s gaze was penetrating. I found myself wanting to look away, and because I did, I forced myself to stare straight into his eyes.

  It was Daniel who blinked first. “You might have been right,” he said. “But know this, Kat—I will always come to you if you need me. You don’t need to trick me.”

  My face warmed further. “I wasn’t sure I could draw you out of hiding, and I didn’t want to unless I had evidence.”

  “Which you found. Bless you.” Daniel stopped and studied his boots. “What I did not expect was Pilcher.”