‘I’m not sure what to think yet.’ Jake slid his arms into the coat that Parker held out for him. ‘Other than that I don’t like him.’
Parker’s only response was a grunt.
‘I shall take breakfast and then go to Cheyne Walk. Call there when you’ve spoken to Barber. I don’t suppose he’ll be around too early. Theatrical types are creatures of the night. This afternoon I’m planning to go down to Surrey with Mrs Grantley to see her sister-in-law. You’d best come too.’
‘Won’t three be a crowd?’
Jake sent his henchman a droll look and left the room, preoccupied by the knowledge that Olivia had not been herself the previous night. He had expected lively repartee and her usual teasing irreverence; had been looking forward to bandying words with her after his self-imposed exile from her company. And yet, apart from her playful suggestion that he turn his hand to growing roses, she had been subdued, distracted. To Jake, she never looked more adorable than when she showed rare glimpses of the vulnerability she was at pains to disguise, even from him.
Her preoccupation was understandable, he supposed, given that she had been compelled to deal with the humourless Lady Grantley and then spill the unpleasant particulars regarding the private side of her marriage into his sympathetic ear. Olivia pretended to be resilient but Jake had seen the pain in her eyes as she spoke of her treatment at the hands of the brute she had so unwisely married. He understood so much better now why she had never pretended to be sorry about her husband’s death, causing society to raise its collective eyebrows at her frankness and for Olivia to gain the notorious reputation she so often joked about.
Warbeck could easily have handled the business in Scotland without Jake’s assistance but he went with the deliberate intention of putting space between himself and Olivia. For the first time in his adult life he had put instinct ahead of prudence during the investigation into the Radicals’ activities and finally gave in to the overwhelming draw of Olivia’s addictive femininity. He had been attracted by her fragile beauty, pale and scared witless yet fighting mad, as she sat in a grimy prison cell at Newgate. After he had succeeded in securing her release, he assumed the attraction would wane. He was pushover when it came to a lady in distress; especially when it was evident that a miscarriage of justice would ensue if he did not intervene—and more especially still when she was as tragically beautiful as Olivia. But he was equally well-versed in avoiding entanglements that could see him become leg-shackled if he didn’t have a care.
But his feelings had not waned. He toyed with the idea of proposing once her period of mourning came to an end but quickly realised that he couldn’t risk doing so for fear of reprisals. His difficulty was that letting her go completely—the wise course of action—was unthinkable. Jake had successfully foiled plots against the government, helped individuals who were being duped by master manipulators, saved a certain duke from a situation in which he had exposed himself to blackmail, with confidence and comparative ease. But he was at a loss to know how to deal with his feelings for this infuriating, challenging, adorable and uniquely individual female. All he did know was that he couldn’t let her go.
The fortune hunters would circle their wagons and besiege her night and day, unless there was someone around to protect her interests. Or so he managed to convince himself. He sensed in her a need to fight against injustice, had a requirement for a female within his organisation and recruited her; thereby creating a legitimate excuse to continue their association. Jake was a strict disciplinarian and convinced himself he would be able to harness his lust, once he became accustomed to being frequently in her company.
Ha!
Jake took his breakfast, attended to a few pressing business matters and was admitted to Olivia’s residence when her hall clock struck ten. Before he could follow Green’s suggestion and join Olivia in the back parlour, a mini-whirlwind launched itself at him and small arms circled his legs.
‘I rang the ship’s bell,’ Tom informed him, sounding mighty pleased with his achievement.
‘Did you now? Are you going to be a cabin boy?’
Tom giggled. ‘I’m going to be the captain and all the sailors will have to do what I tell them to.’
‘Of course you are.’
Jake laughed as he tousled a mop of dark curls and swung Tom over his head, causing the child to giggle wildly. The giggles brought both Olivia and Molly to investigate the reason for them. Jake threw Tom into the air, caught him and set the dizzy child on his feet again. Molly sent Jake a disapproving look, belatedly bobbed a curtsey that was almost insulting in its brevity and took Tom firmly by the hand.
‘Come along, Master Tom. Jane will wonder what has become of you.’
‘I have become a sailor, Molly, that’s what.’
Jake laughed. ‘He is obsessed with seafaring.’
‘This week. Next week it will be something else.’
‘Molly really does not approve of me,’ Jake remarked as he followed Olivia’s svelte form into the room she had just vacated. Boxes covered the surface of the table.
‘Molly and I are overdue a frank discussion,’ Olivia said, a determined set to her features. ‘I will not permit my maid to sit in judgement on me which, I suspect, is exactly what she is doing. If she does not like my ways she is at liberty to find another position.’ She turned to smile at him and the anger left her eyes. ‘Good morning, Jake. I did not expect you quite so early.’
‘It looks as though I didn’t get here a moment too soon,’ he replied, nodding at the dusty boxes. ‘Green must have broken his back, getting that lot down.’
‘Finch did the heavy lifting,’ Olivia replied. ‘Speaking of whom, would you like him back? You loaned him to me when you thought I was in danger during the Radicals case but—’
‘Is he making himself useful?’
‘Actually, yes. I didn’t think there was enough work for Green and Finch but Green is no longer as young as he once was, although he will never admit it, and I think he is grateful for an extra pair of strong hands.’
‘Then keep him.’
‘Thank you, but you must permit me to pay his wages.’
Jake tutted. ‘And you must learn to accept a gift gracefully.’
‘You cannot give a servant to me. Finch is a person in his own right.’
‘I shall gift you his services then, for as long as you need them.’ Jake sat down and looked dubiously at the first box. ‘Now, shall we get on?’
‘We need tea to fortify us,’ Olivia replied, ringing the bell.
‘Parker is spending the morning quizzing Barber about what might have been taken during the robbery,’ Jake told her while they waited for the tea to arrive.
‘Drake won’t like it if he thinks Parker is involving himself in his investigation.’
‘Drake can go to the devil.’
‘It still would not surprise me if the odious man comes here trying to link me to the burglary at Mr Barber’s office. You made him look inefficient and stupid—’
‘You give me too much credit. He is inefficient and stupid. He needed no help from me to make that apparent.’
Olivia smiled and conceded the point with a nod. ‘And overbearing, and arrogant. Even so, I was his most famous arrest. He was publicly humiliated when I was proven innocent and you showed that he had not even looked for alternative suspects.’
‘He brought it all on himself, Olivia. Don’t worry about Drake. If he does come here, don’t receive him.’
‘Certainly I shall receive him.’ Jake was pleased to see that the light of battle had returned to her eyes. ‘I have nothing to fear from Drake and shall enjoy giving him a piece of my mind.’
Tea was delivered, bringing the discussion of Drake’s myriad shortcomings to an end. Olivia poured for them both and handed a cup to Jake.
‘Thank you,’ he said, taking a sip and putting his cup aside. ‘Now, where shall we start?’ he asked, standing to remove his coat and roll up his sleeves.
‘Marcus was methodical. These boxes are dated,’ she said. ‘They go back to the days before our marriage. I had a look in the oldest. It contains diaries and a few personal letters. Nothing of consequence.’
‘Was Marcus a disciplined diarist?’
‘He made notations of engagements and anything he didn’t wish to forget, but he did not commit his innermost thoughts and aspirations to paper, unfortunately. Or perhaps fortunately.’
‘Then we would be best advised to start reading from the time he set up his theatrical agency.’
‘I agree.’
Jake moved the other boxes onto the floor and opened the relevant one. He disgorged its contents onto the table and put the box aside.
‘If you find this upsetting, I will happily attend to the matter alone.’
‘No, it needs to be done. I have been putting it off but we can now kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Anything inconsequential we can throw away. Anything else that I think Tom might like to look at when he’s older we should preserve. Whatever I thought of Marcus, he is Tom’s father.’
‘Of course.’
‘His writing is near illegible,’ Jake complained when they had worked for several minutes in near silence.
‘Ah yes, I ought to have warned you about that. I am probably better at deciphering it than you are. If you find anything that needs translating, point it out to me.’
‘He appears to write in code. It is all initials, dates and times.’
Olivia sighed. ‘I can identify a few of the initials but I don’t suppose that will help much.’
‘What would be really useful would be a list of all his clients.’ Jake shrugged. ‘But I suppose that would be too much to hope for.’
‘Perhaps Mr Barber has a list.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Parker is here, madam,’ Green said from the doorway.
‘Show him in, Green,’ Olivia replied, brushing dust from her hands. ‘Hopefully he has been more successful than we have.’
‘I had not realised that so much time had passed,’ Jake said, glancing at the clock in the corner of the room. ‘Over two hours and nothing to show for it.’
‘Good morning, ma’am.’ Parker stood in the doorway and inclined his head towards Olivia.
‘Good morning, Parker. I hear you have had a busy morning.’
‘But was it a successful one, Parker?’ Jake asked. ‘You would not need to have learned much to be more successful than us,’ he added, waving a hand at the piles of papers and diaries now adorning the surface of the table.
‘Barber was perfectly willing to talk to me, once I mentioned your family’s name, ma’am. The place was a right mess and he was, as you can imagine, upset.’
‘Anything missing?’ Jake asked.
‘Not that he could tell. The thieves had targeted the records he kept of his clients. Papers were strewn all over the place and he’s worried that their personal particulars could have fallen into the wrong hands.’
Jake rubbed his chin. ‘You suppose their intention was to find one person in particular? I don’t see it myself. Actors are easy enough to get close to, if one so wishes. Indeed, they thrive on being in demand.’
Olivia muttered something under her breath, presumably thinking of Verity Aspin’s particular brand of demands.
‘Even so,’ Parker said. ‘If personal particulars of the actors and their contracts fell into the wrong hands…’
‘Hardly worth killing for,’ Jake replied. ‘And if we are right, then not one but two murders are directly connected to Grantley’s agency.’
‘Has Mr Barber had any dealings with Sir Hubert?’ Olivia asked.
‘In the early days, shortly after you sold the agency to him, Sir Hubert turned up in all the same places of Barber. He tried to convince him that he was intimately acquainted with all your late husband’s clients and that Barber needed him to keep them contented. But Barber tells me he has a long connection with the theatre; grew up treading the boards himself. He has all the right contacts and knows Madame Céleste well. Very well, if my impressions are correct. Suffice it to say, he needed no help from Sir Hubert and although he did not actually say so, I feel persuaded that he didn’t have a high opinion of him.’
‘How very sensible of Mr Barber,’ Olivia said.
‘Has Barber seen Sir Hubert over the past few weeks?’ Jake asked.
‘He mentioned seeing him at a production of Hamlet at the Old Vic about a month ago. He was there with a large party of friends but Barber did not actually speak to him.’
‘How many of Grantley’s clients stayed with the agency?’ Jake asked.
‘All of them.’
‘Even Miss Aspin?’ Jake asked, surprised. ‘I would imagine she was a prime target for Barber’s competitors; especially Sir Hubert.’
‘I have a feeling she’s awake on all suits, that one,’ Parker said. Olivia nodded in vigorous agreement. ‘She wants to remain centre stage at the Adelphi and have an agent, begging your pardon, Mrs Grantley, whom she can bend to her will.’
‘No need to apologise for telling the truth, Parker,’ Olivia replied. ‘Did Mr Barber give you a list of the clients he inherited from my husband?’
‘That he did.’
‘How very obliging of him,’ Jake said, taking the list from Parker’s outstretched hand. ‘Good work, Parker,’ he added, studying the list of mostly well-known names which more or less corresponded with those that Olivia recalled from memory.
‘Don’t praise me too much. Drake turned up while I was there. He wasn’t best pleased to see me and wanted to know why I was there. I told him I was auditioning for a part.’
Jake roared with laughter. ‘I take it he did not believe you.’
‘I am sure Parker would make a very convincing thespian,’ Olivia said, herself laughing.
‘Ah well, I’ve done enough play-acting in his lordship’s service.’
‘Luncheon is served, madam,’ Green said from the doorway.
‘Go and get yourself something in the kitchen, Parker,’ Jake said. ‘We shall leave for Surrey after luncheon and hopefully learn more from Lady Grantley than we have managed this morning.’
҉
‘Excuse me, Jake, for a moment,’ Olivia said when they had eaten luncheon. ‘I shall run up and change if we are to visit Margaret. I am covered in dust from those boxes and not fit to be seen. I shall not keep you long.’
Olivia did need to change but there was another duty that required her attention. Now was not the best time, but Olivia was too angry to countenance delay. Molly was in Olivia’s room when she entered it. She was aware that Olivia was going out for the afternoon and was waiting to help her change.
‘You were extremely impolite to Lord Torbay this morning, Molly. What is your explanation?’
‘I meant no disrespect, ma’am,’ Molly replied, looking evasive and sounding sullen.
‘And yet you were disrespectful. Most disrespectful. I should like to know why you presume to cast judgement on my choice of friends. To the best of my knowledge, Lord Torbay has never been unkind to you.’ Molly remained mute and Olivia lost patience with her. ‘I am waiting for you to explain yourself, Molly.’
‘Since you insist upon knowing, I don’t approve of loose behaviour, madam,’ she said, her chin now jutting pugnaciously.
‘Whose loose behaviour?’ Olivia asked, holding on to her temper with extreme difficulty.
‘Yours and his lordship’s, madam.’ Molly sent Olivia a defiant look. ‘I know what happened between the two of you at Grosvenor Square a few months back and I don’t hold with sexual congress out of wedlock.’
‘You dare to criticise my behaviour?’ She pinned the girl with a haughty look. ‘Evidently you are not satisfied with your position here. Besides, I should hate for you to be corrupted, so perhaps you should seek another.’
‘Oh no, ma’am. I like working for you, honest I do.’
Olivia was perfectly sure that she did. She had a
good position; one that would not be available to her elsewhere if Olivia chose not to give her a reference—perhaps not even then.
‘But you are being corrupted beneath my roof.’
‘I…well, that is, I exceeded my position.’ Molly studied the floor and shuffled her feet. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. It will not happen again. I was out of sorts this morning. Tom got away from Jane and it was me who found the scamp plying Lord Torbay with questions.’
‘Why did that make you out of sorts?’
‘It’s Jane’s responsibility to look after Master Tom.’
‘This is a small establishment. Your duties are not that arduous. When you have your afternoon off, Jane fulfils your duties and when Jane needs help with Tom I expect you to step in…but if it is too much for you then perhaps you should seek a position in a larger household with a mistress who is not so lenient.’
‘I am very content here, madam. It’s just that Mr Graves says that no woman should…’
Olivia’s icy glare caused Molly’s words to stall. ‘You have presumed to discuss my affairs with Graves?’
Molly’s defiant look returned. ‘He is a man of God and God sees and judges everything.’
‘Pack up your things, Molly. You will leave this house by the end of the day.’
‘Oh no, ma’am, please reconsider.’ Molly looked to be on the point of tears. Olivia wondered why, if this position was so precious to her, she was so ready to jeopardise it. ‘You have been that good to me.’
‘I cannot, will not, have you criticise my conduct, Molly, and I will not have you discuss my business with anyone at all. I thought you were better trained than that.’
All the fight drained out of Molly and she stood before Olivia, trembling. She probably realised that she had nowhere to go. She had worked for Olivia ever since she moved to Chelsea and had given good service, until her curate had turned her head with his pious and puritanical ways. They had been walking out for some time but he clearly did not intend to marry Molly or he would have proposed by now. Olivia had never told her maid that she had seen the man on several occasions promenading in the park with a girl from of better class. And yet he dared to criticise Olivia. It beggared belief.
With Good Grace (Victorian Vigilantes Book 3) Page 5