by Lisa Boero
Then, before Althea had time to even cry out, the door to the room burst open. “Where is she?” someone shouted. One of the figures held a lantern high, but it swung to and fro, throwing fearful shadows in every direction.
“He’s going out the window!” shouted another. There was a scuffle as several pairs of feet rushed over to the ripped paper of the window. “He has a rope. Someone get down to the street and catch him!”
Two men dashed out the door. Althea could hear the thumps of their footsteps as they ran down the stairs. And off in the distance, the sound of a pistol shot. And then another. “Please, let them reach their intended target!” Althea prayed.
The man with the lantern swung it in her direction. “My God, she’s over there,” he said.
“What?” said a voice Althea knew well. How had Norwich come to find her?
“Yes, Lavender is right,” replied a voice that sounded very much like Magistrate Read. “Come, Lavender, help me untie her. Lady Trent, are you hurt?”
But before she could reply, Norwich knelt down beside her and began to work the knots at her wrists. “I have no words, Althea, no words,” he said.
At the sight of him Althea felt a rush of joy so powerful that she was momentarily bereft of speech. “How did you find me?” she finally got out.
Magistrate Read leaned over to work the knots at her feet. “Come Lavender, bring the lantern closer so we may be quick about our work. It was Miss Trent who first alerted us. She said that she had received some sort of letter saying that you had run off and knew that that could not be true. She contacted His Grace,” Read nodded in Norwich’s direction, “who had the fortunate thought to question some of the street urchins. One of them remembered seeing a man lifting a lady into a hack carriage early in the morning and remembered the carriage most particularly because it had a crest on the side that had been painted over.”
“We were able to trace the carriage at least as far as this neighborhood,” Norwich added. “Then it was just a question of asking the right people in the right sort of way. There, Lady Trent, can you move your arms?”
Althea stretched them up and winced. Her wrists felt as raw as her hands. “I don’t think I have any broken bones, but my head does hurt fearfully.”
“I will take you back to Norwich House, where my mother’s own physician shall attend you. My sister is in residence now, so you need not worry about the proprieties,” Norwich said.
“Thank you, but I can’t leave dear Jane. We should make plans for our return to Dettamoor Park.”
“In due time, Lady Trent,” Mr. Read replied. “But first we must see to your injuries, and then you must tell us what you know about Lord Charles.”
“Yes.” Norwich undid the knot around her waist and pulled the rope free. “Here, let me help you. Can you sit up?”
Althea took his proffered hand. “I believe so.” He pulled her up gently, but her head began to throb. She clutched his arm. “I feel so out of sorts, forgive me.”
“Nonsense.” In one swift move, he got his arms under her back and lifted her up, cradling her against his chest. Althea relaxed gratefully into his embrace, too exhausted to move. “Come Read, Lavender, Standon, hold the door for me, would you?”
Chapter Twenty-One
It was several days before Althea felt well enough to leave her bed. But as soon as she was able, she sent a message around to Mr. Read. He arrived thereafter and was shown into one of the many formal sitting rooms in Norwich House. This one was called the yellow salon, but it failed by its ornate multicolored decoration to explain to its occupants how it achieved that name. Althea had been informed that Lady Bertlesmon favored another room, labeled the rose salon, but, as Althea had only made Lady Bertlesmon’s acquaintance once since she had been so unexpectedly invited to stay, she could give no opinion on the relative merits of one or the other.
Mr. Read found Althea and Jane seated comfortably by a fire, Jane seemingly engrossed in her needlework and Althea seemingly engrossed in watching the flames in the grate. Jane set aside the handiwork and greeted him warmly. “Magistrate Read, how kind of you to pay us a visit. Lady Trent was quite anxious to discuss the matter of the Richmond Thief with you.”
“It is very kind of you to come so quickly, Mr. Read. We have much to discuss.” Althea smiled at him warmly. “And I have much to thank you for. Do please sit down.” She indicated a space to her left on the settee.
Read sat down beside her. “It was nothing, madam. I am just glad that we reached your ladyship in time. Please tell me that your injuries are on the mend?”
Althea raised the sleeve of her gown to show a bandaged wrist. “Yes. Everything seems to be healing just as it ought. But let us talk of more important things. What is to be done with Charles’s death? I fear there will be a great scandal. And you may speak freely in front of Jane, for I have taken her into my confidence in all important matters.”
Read nodded. “No need to worry, Lady Trent. You perhaps have not seen the papers. Lord Charles was set upon by footpads. We are hard on the heels of the assassins, but I fear that they may never be apprehended.”
“That is a good explanation. And Lord Bingham? Charles caused a carriage accident in order to kill his brother. And if that didn’t work, he had paid someone to kill him as if during a robbery.”
“That is still a bit of mystery. We found Lord Bingham’s carriage smashed to bits, with the tiger wounded, but no sign of Bingham himself.”
“No sign?” Jane said.
“None,” Read replied. “We thought perhaps your ladyship might know what happened?”
“Charles assumed he was dead, but perhaps John was more intelligent. He’s led a double life for so long, escape must be second nature.”
“Double life?” Read said.
“He had a wife safely ensconced in a small house in a respectable, but not fashionable, neighborhood. She is a gentlewoman who lacks the dowry and noble parentage so necessary for the future Marquess of Levanwood. They met in Italy and secretly married abroad, but he feared to tell his family, especially since they needed him to marry position and money.”
“How did your ladyship discover this?”
“John let drop that he had purchased a strand of pearls in Italy, which led me to believe that he had once been in love with a woman. And the tales of him did not add up, so to speak. People said he drank, but he never showed any sign of it. They said he stayed in bed until late in the morning, but Jane and I saw him returning to the house early in the morning, so we knew that his late rising had to do with his coming back from somewhere. Plus, he did not seem in a hurry to marry despite the fact that everyone could see that the financial affairs of the family required it.”
Althea paused and then said, “And there was something about his continuous talk of poetry and his supposed fascination with morbid subjects. It was as if he wanted me to believe he was obsessed with poetry, and yet when we discussed other subjects, he would go for some time before mentioning it again. It struck me that he was playing a character on the stage, just as he played a wolf the night of the masquerade ball and played the debauched youth with his friends, drinking wine out of a skull-shaped cup. I decided to follow him, and that led me to his wife.”
Read smiled. “Lord Bingham acted the part of a dissipated young man in order to hide his more conventional activities?”
“Yes. And his brother did the opposite—hid a life of evil behind a mask of respectability.”
“How many persons had he harmed, do you think?”
“Too many,” Jane replied with asperity.
Althea said, “Charles likely tried to kill more people than we will ever discover, but, aside from my own case and that of Lord Bingham, I know of at least two more. He killed his father’s valet and the maidservant, Mary. But as I explained, that body in Hyde Park isn’t her. She may be another victim of Charles, but I doubt it. He wouldn’t have buried the body.”
“How do you know this?” said Read.
“Let me start at the beginning of the story. The marquess took his own diamonds and claimed it was the Richmond Thief so that he could recover the money from Lloyd’s and then sell the stones. One of his cronies, Lord Belfore, did the same several years ago. I became suspicious when I learned that he had enough money to hold the faro bank again. And Charles had admitted to me that the diamonds were insured.”
“I’m sure I need not tell you that particular crime will be very difficult to prosecute. The marquess has some powerful friends who will try to prevent any hint of scandal from reaching him. I fear the shareholders of Lloyds will have to take it up if there is to be any justice in that quarter,” Read said.
Althea nodded. “Unfortunately, you may be right. In any case, the marquess’s valet found out and tried to blackmail the marquess. Charles learned of the plot and killed the valet by strangling him with a bellpull. Then he killed Mary when she saw the valet’s body before it could be disposed of.”
“But the maid wasn’t Mary?” Read said.
“No. She’d been buried long before Mary went missing. I knew that because I found a larval specimen of Dermestes trentatus. As we discussed, my husband and I did a study of the beetle’s life cycle. I took one home to compare with my notes, and it proved to me that the body couldn’t be Mary because it would have had to be buried before Mary was killed. As you know, this method of detection will be presented in the forthcoming Philosophical Transactions.”
“Perhaps you would be willing to prepare a simplified educational tool for my men to adopt? Definitive determination of when a body is disposed of would aid our work immeasurably.”
“Of course. I also just found out that I have been invited to present my husband’s manuscript on the subject in a fortnight, so perhaps you will wish to attend the lecture?”
“I would be delighted. But I digress. What happened to the bodies of the valet and Mary?” Read said.
“Resurrection men.”
“Resurrection men?”
“Body snatchers for the medical trade—the unfortunate result of too few bodies available for anatomical studies for physicians. Charles studied medicine for a time and must have made connections. It was an easy way to eliminate the corpses of his victims and make some money on the side. I wish I had made the connection earlier. It would have saved me a painful experience.”
Read shook his head. “So there is no Richmond Thief?”
“Perhaps there is, but not all of the thefts can be attributed to him. As I mentioned before, I think there are multiple causes. Many, including the Levanwood diamonds and the jewels of Lord Belfore, are the well-to-do trying to raise capital. I realized that when I examined your notes on each crime. Only a few seemed to be connected with the original theft of the Richmond earrings. Unfortunately, you will have the same difficulty bringing those culprits to justice as you do the Levanwoods, so I will leave it up to you as to how best to handle the high-society frauds.”
“And what is your theory on the other crimes?”
“I would look at the registry offices to identify those persons who were hired for parties where the jewelry was stolen off the wearer. That can be attributed to a single thief or more likely a band of pickpockets masquerading as servants. Check particularly for cloakroom attendants. It has occurred to me that in the disorder of the women’s cloakroom, clever thieves would find it quite easy to make off with any number of items without the wearer having the least notion. A lady would be distracted by putting her dress to rights, you see.”
“A group of female thieves attempting to trade on the Richmond Thief’s reputation?”
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” Althea said.
Jane nodded. “It would be a good scheme if you think about it.”
“And what about the crimes that do fit the pattern of the original Richmond theft?” Read said.
Althea hesitated, unsure of what she should say about Verlyn, when the door to the salon swung open.
“Your Grace.” Read stood. “I was just consulting Lady Trent and Miss Trent regarding the Levanwood crimes.”
“Mr. Read.” Norwich nodded in his direction. “There cannot be too little said on that subject, but Lady Trent may not feel sufficiently strong to speak at length just yet.”
Magistrate Read took the hint, saying, “Certainly. Lady Trent, Miss Trent, we shall discuss the matter further at another moment.”
When he had been ushered out, Norwich addressed Jane. “I come bearing a message from my sister. She is feeling poorly this morning and asked most particularly after you as a companion for a quiet ride about town. She has some shopping to do, but doesn’t quite feel up to the task. Perhaps you would be so kind?” The question hung in the air, and Jane, always alert to every scheme, jumped up and bustled out of the room without even a backward glance at Althea.
Norwich closed the door behind her. “I sent that fellow Pettigrew away. I told him that you were indisposed and in no mood for callers.”
“Thank you,” Althea said with relief. “I don’t think I could stand an interview with him this morning.”
“You are not actually engaged to Pettigrew, are you? I didn’t want to think it, but many seem to take your engagement as unquestionable truth. His story of your previous interactions in Somerset was so very detailed.”
“Of course not. It is all fabrication and misunderstanding. I wasn’t paying attention to what he said to me when we danced at Lady Jersey’s ball, and he took that as further agreement. At least that may be what happened. I don’t rightly know. Believe me when I say that I have never knowingly agreed to be engaged to him. I am so very vexed!”
“Impudent puppy!” Norwich said with some heat, “I’ll give him a set down the next time he comes, and we’ll see if he dares to come by again.”
“I know that I shouldn’t be grateful, but thank you from the bottom of my heart. Even a day without Pettigrew is like a tonic for my nerves.”
Norwich sat down beside her. “Then I shall be as rude as I know how to be.”
“Your prodigious rudeness will surely keep him at bay for at least a week.”
“I don’t know if I should take that as praise of my general incivility or of Pettigrew’s obtuseness.”
“Both deserve to be recognized for their merits,” Althea replied archly. “But let us not waste our time with Pettigrew, as I have been desiring private speech with you about another matter.”
“Yes?” A half smile played across his mouth.
She took a deep breath. Norwich must be told about his brother’s double life, even though Althea knew it was not the best way to repay all of his kindness to her. “We should discuss the Richmond Thief.”
“Indeed, there is much I have to tell you.” He took one of her hands gently in his. “Promise me that you will listen with an open heart.”
“Open heart?” Althea looked down, unsure of what her hand in his could mean, but she did not remove it. She took another deep breath to steady her racing pulse. “Let us speak plainly. I have come to suspect that your brother, Lord George, is the true Richmond Thief.”
She waited for the inevitable anger, but instead Norwich merely said, “I had guessed as much.”
“About your brother?”
“No, about you. I knew that you would eventually come to that conclusion.”
“So he’s not the Richmond Thief?”
“He is, but it’s not what you think. I’m sure you will keep what I am about to tell you in the strictest confidence. My brother has for many years worked to assist the government with clandestine diplomacy. It came to his attention that important information was leaking to the French government, and he sought to find out how.”
“It was the jewelry, wasn’t it? Starting with the Duchess of Richmond, I noticed that all of the thefts conforming to the Richmond Thief’s methods had been recently refurbished at Howe and Cartwright’s.”
Norwich smiled. “I see I have not underestimated you.
It was the boxes themselves, not the jewels. The Duchess and her compatriots were passing information to Bonaparte’s government through a French jeweler employed by the firm. He in turn would pass instructions back in the boxes. George and the other agents had to steal the jewels to hide the true nature of the search. The jewels will be returned in due time when the operation is complete and the spy network destroyed beyond repair.”
“So there was more than one Richmond Thief even with the thefts that conformed to the thief’s pattern of crime?”
Norwich nodded. “No one person could have done everything the thief was purported to have done.”
“But where is your brother now?” Althea said.
“Abroad on another mission. We don’t expect him back for some time.” Norwich regarded her with a strange expression, as if he were intent upon her reaction.
“I see. Well that is that. I must thank you again for—”
“No, Althea, it isn’t. My brother wasn’t the thief you knew.” And then his voice dipped into a stage whisper that was all too familiar. “When George finally told me, I couldn’t risk you finding out. Too much was at stake.”
Althea’s head had begun to spin. “And so you—”
“Yes. My God, Althea, you have no idea how I longed to tell you.”
“I’m sure.” She went numb with shock for a minute, and then anger surged within her. She pulled her hand away and cried out at the pain the movement caused the still-raw wound. She stood up, clutching her wrist, wanting to move, but feeling as if she might faint at any minute. “And you thought to treat me no better than—to kiss me—to make me believe that you loved me! I have never been so—”
“No!”
She looked up and realized that he was now pacing the floor in front of her.
“No, please do not say such things! I have been weak and deceitful, but it was only because I’ve been so out of my mind with love for you.”
“With love for me?” Althea swayed, reached out and grabbed the arm of the settee for balance. “With love for me?”