He’d hated his brother.
He still did.
Arthur Clifford had been tall, attractive, well-liked, with an easy wit and affable manner. All the qualities Matthew lacked.
When Arthur married a woman of grace and beauty from an aristocratic family, Matthew had stewed for weeks. It was all too perfect. Eighteen months later, the couple had been blessed with a baby girl, and the adorable infant had grown into a particularly bright and appealing young woman. Matthew despised her pretty face and long glossy hair, but most of all, he seethed watching the lovely young men fawn over her at the balls.
Matthew had spent his life consumed with jealousy.
He craved his brother’s title, the grand London house, the country estate, the elegant carriages, and most of all, the tremendous wealth.
Then Monty had delivered the astonishing news.
He’d accidentally killed Arthur trying to persuade him to hand over the statue they’d taken such pains to steal.
Matthew hadn’t cared about the statue.
He’d been overjoyed.
His dreams had come true.
Now he was the baron, and had inherited every last penny. He was able to buy as many lovely young men as he wished.
“Do you hear me, Arthur?” he continued, yelling up at the ceiling. “The statue you died protecting will be mine! How simply marvelous!”
Gobbling the last two Victorian sponges, he washed them down with his tea, then nodded happily.
“This must be fate. My dear, departed partners in crime can offer no competition. I’ll have the statue to do with as I wish,” he muttered gleefully, then suddenly frowned. “Damn and blast, there’s still Manning. Damn him, but I have way more money than he’ll ever see.”
“Your cake, my lord.”
Matthew darted his eyes across the room. Bardwell was walking toward him carrying a large slice of chocolate cake smothered in dark chocolate icing, and surrounded by glazed cherries.
Life was good.
* * *
After writing the invitation to Matthew Clifford, Malcolm tried to catch up on some matters he’d been neglecting, but with the auction just hours away he couldn’t focus. Leaving his desk to find Connie, he trotted up the stairs and into his salon. Not finding her there, he moved into his bedroom. She was sitting by the window.
“Connie? I thought you were making up a list of the clothing you need.”
“I couldn’t concentrate,” she said softly, turning to face him. “With so much riding on tonight I’m anxious.”
“I understand. I tried to get some work done but it was impossible.”
“That’s not like you,” she remarked, rising to her feet.
“We need a distraction,” he murmured, walking over to her and taking her into his arms.
“I agree. Malcolm, there’s something important I want to do. I thought I’d wait until everything was over and settled, but now I don’t think it matters. There was a woman who helped me. I’m not sure I would have survived without her, especially the early days.”
“I remember you mentioning her. Yes, she must be rewarded,” Malcolm agreed earnestly, “and I can think of no better way to spend the afternoon.”
“You mean now? Yes, I’d love to do that, but...”
“Go on.”
“I’ve been thinking about this a great deal,” she murmured, pulling back and staring up at him. “Malcolm, I need a lady’s maid. Mrs. Melville can’t keep doing double duty, especially after we’re legally married and I start entertaining.”
“You’re quite right. Are you suggesting this woman could do the job?”
“She’s a seamstress, and I think she’d be marvelous, though there is a bit of a problem. She’s married, but her husband is awful and she wants to get away from him.”
“Connie, this sounds complicated.”
“It is, but can’t we at least go and talk with her?”
“Of course we can, and I’m happy to provide whatever help she might need. Did she have any idea who you were when she met you?”
“If she did, she never mentioned it. I told her I’d been falsely accused of an awful crime and I needed to lie low until I could find a way to clear my name, but she never asked any questions.”
“She sounds very kind.”
“She is, and she’s probably concerned I haven’t stopped by. One thing though, we won’t be able to take the carriage into the back street where she lives, and it’s not a very pleasant area.”
“Don’t you worry. I’m more than capable of taking care of any trouble we might face.”
“I know you are. I just thought I should warn you.”
“I consider myself warned,” he said with a grin. “What’s the name of this good Samaritan?”
“Mary,” Connie replied, then hesitated for a moment before slipping from his arms.
“Is there something else?” he asked as she started for the door.
“Uh, no. Nothing that can’t wait.”
* * *
Gray skies were closing over the city as Malcolm’s carriage rolled to a stop. Climbing out, the busy lives of those less fortunate served as a stark reminder of his good fortune. Taking Connie’s hand, he helped her down, and with his walking stick at the ready in case of trouble, they started down the congested street.
Though they received stares, and a few people called to them, Connie seemed oblivious. It was difficult to imagine her living in such dreadful conditions, but she had, and with tremendous fortitude she’d managed to get through the grueling ordeal. His heart swelled with admiration, then filled with gratitude for the woman who had come to her aid.
“Here we are,” she said, stopping at a decrepit wooden door. “I do hope her husband isn’t here.”
“You needn’t worry,” Malcolm promised as Connie knocked. “If he is and he gives us any difficulty I’ll deal with him.”
The door creaked open barely an inch.
“Connie!” a woman exclaimed, swinging it open. “My goodness, how wonderful to see you. I’ve been so worried. Come in, come in.”
“Are you by yourself, Mary?”
“Yes, it’s just me and Jack. He’ll be thrilled to see you.”
“Mary, this is my husband, Malcolm Mead.”
“Husband? Even more wonderful. Delighted to meet you, sir. Just delighted.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you too, Mary,” Malcolm said, wondering who Jack was. “Thank you for helping Connie in her many hours of need.”
“I’m just so grateful she’s well, and my goodness, Connie, how marvelous to see you married and your problems behind you. Come through. I’ll brew a pot of tea.”
Walking down a short, narrow hall, they entered a small room, and though it was dreary, it was as neat and clean as a pin.
“Jack! Connie’s here,” Mary called, “and she’s brought a visitor.”
A young boy raced in, immediately throwing himself at Connie and hugging her tightly.
“You’re here, you’re here!” he cried joyously. “I’ve been praying every single night.”
As Malcolm stood watching, and quietly trying to take it all in, a startling realization began to take hold.
“Malcolm, this is Jack,” Connie said, interrupting his heavy thoughts. “He’s very clever.”
“I’m going to be a doctor,” Jack exclaimed proudly. “I already know all the bones, and now I’m learning all the muscles. The doctor who takes care of us has been teaching me.”
“Has he indeed?” Malcolm replied, wishing his heart would stop its wild thumping. “Isn’t that excellent? How lucky you are.” Then raising his eyes to Mary, he steeled himself, and said, “Mary, I understand you’re married.”
“Yes, sir, I am,” she replied, suddenly frowning as she looked at Jack, “but... uh...”
“And your husband’s name is...?”
“Hackworth, sir. Alan Hackworth.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Malcolm caught Connie’s as
tonished expression, then moving his gaze to Mary, her eyes reflected something he couldn’t interpret.
“Jack, why don’t you take Connie into your room and show her your new book and what you’ve learned?” Mary said, abruptly walking over to him and leaning down to give him a hug.
“I would love to. Do you want to see it, Connie?”
“Of course I do. I’m so proud of you.”
Taking Connie by the hand, the boy began chatting excitedly, and as he led her away, Mary quickly closed the door behind him.
“I’ll just put the kettle on,” she muttered nervously. “Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you, but Mrs. Hackworth, you’re deeply troubled. Connie and I are here to help. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Your timing is either terrible or very good indeed,” she mumbled, reaching into the pocket of her apron. “Just before you arrived I received this telegram. I haven’t heard from Alan in a while—not that I see him much these days—but now I know why.”
Taking the piece of paper, Malcolm unfolded it and read the short message.
I am sorry to inform you, your husband Alan Hackworth suffered a fatal accident while in police custody. Further details forthcoming.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hackworth.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” she said with a pained expression. “When I first met Alan he was ambitious, and so much fun to be with, but as time went by I watched him change. He became frustrated and angry. As I just said, I haven’t seen much of him recently, and when I did he was usually drunk, though in the morning he was always contrite. He’d leave me money then disappear again.”
“How very unfortunate. Connie and I will do whatever we can to help you through this difficult time, but Mrs. Hackworth, there’s something I must tell you. I know where he was being held. He was arrested at my country home. This coincidence is nothing short of remarkable.”
“Really? How extraordinary.”
“Did you know he was working for the Earl of Landenbury, Samuel Mountbatten?”
“I knew he was employed by someone wealthy and titled, but not the man’s name.”
“Before I explain everything that’s transpired, do you happen to know how they met?”
“Oh, yes. Alan worked as a guard at a posh men’s club, and a while back one of them offered him a private position. Mr. Mead, the moment Alan told me I had a very bad feeling. He started bringing home good money and presents for Jack, but I worried about how he’d earned it. Then he started coming home less and less, and when he did, he was short-tempered, as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Do you know this man, Samuel Mountbatten?”
“Yes, I do, and I believe your kettle is boiling. Why don’t you make the tea and I’ll tell the whole story?”
* * *
As Malcolm gave Mary a detailed account of the theft of the statue and the ensuing drama, he understood why Connie had found comfort under the woman’s roof, and why her son was such a bright boy. Mary was intelligent, her questions thoughtful, and her speech surprisingly refined. He found it difficult to see her married to the thug who had threatened poor Holly with a rat.
“I’m not sure what I was expecting to hear, Mr. Mead,” she said, sipping her tea, “but everything you’ve just told me goes beyond anything I could have imagined, except for Connie. I knew she was from a noble family. When I heard the stories about the young woman named Constance Clifford who had been accused of murdering her parents, it wasn’t difficult to come to the obvious conclusion. I didn’t believe her guilty of such a heinous crime for a second, but what an extraordinary thing.”
“You mean that she stumbled across you, and your husband was one of the culprits involved in her terrible misfortune?”
“Yes. It’s almost... unworldly.”
“I admit, the coincidence is rather bizarre, but it is what it is, and I’ll be forever in your debt. That’s why Connie brought me here.”
“Oh, my stars! I just remembered something. That statue was in this house. I even picked it up.”
Feeling a chill prick his skin, he leaned over the table and asked her for details.
“Alan came home one night nervous and agitated, carrying a large black pouch. He said he needed to rest a minute, and flopped down on the couch. I made him a cup of tea, but he’d put the item on the floor and I nearly tripped over it. When I picked it up to shift it out of the way, it was frightfully heavy, so I opened the bag. My goodness, what a beautiful thing. When I lifted it out, it was wonderfully warm in my hands. Alan glowered at me and told me to cover it back up, then he finished his tea, took it from me and left. When I saw him after that he refused to tell me anything about it. My goodness! I held a priceless Egyptian treasure.”
Taking a breath, Malcolm fixed her with a steady gaze.
“Mary, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to think very carefully before you answer.”
“Very well, Mr. Mead.”
“If it’s too soon, please just tell me.”
“I can’t imagine what it could be, but feel free to ask me anything.”
“When I was about fourteen years old,” he began slowly, “fate handed me a benefactor. I was the son of the groundskeeper at a large estate. The owner, the Earl of Brookshire, provided me with an excellent education and a generous inheritance. I wish to offer the same opportunity to your son. He’s obviously an extremely clever young chap, and his aspirations to become a doctor are admirable. With your permission, I shall see to it.”
“Mr. Mead, I don’t know what to say,” she murmured breathlessly. “All I did was—”
“Save Connie’s life,” Malcolm said solemnly, interrupting her. “She has told me she didn’t think she would have survived had you not been so kind. You just used the phrase unworldly. It’s almost as if fate has brought me here, and quite frankly, I believe that to be the case.”
“Jack will be overjoyed. Forgive me,” she muttered, wiping away a tear. “When I woke up this morning I had no idea I would answer a knock at my door and receive such disturbing news, then be offered such a blessing ten minutes later.”
“About your husband. I’ll make sure he receives a proper Christian burial and a headstone. When things settle down you’ll be able to visit with Jack. I believe it will be important for the boy.”
“It will be, Mr. Mead. Thank you. This is so kind of you.”
“There’s more, but I’ll leave that to Connie. Is there anything you’d like to ask me, or can we bring her and Jack back in?”
“Invite them in! I cannot wait to give this thrilling news to Jack,” she exclaimed, rising to her feet and moving quickly to the door. “Jack, come in here, dear. Mr. Mead has something wonderful to tell you.”
Connie and Jack ambled into the small room, Jack talking enthusiastically about the muscles in Connie’s legs.
“Jack,” Malcolm said with a wide smile, “come and have a seat at the table.”
While Mary whispered the shocking news about her husband in Connie’s ear, Malcolm told the young boy he would receive the best education possible, and his dreams of becoming a doctor would come true. The youngster didn’t jump up and down excitedly as Malcolm expected. With tears in his eyes and his forehead crinkling, Jack walked around the table, put his arms around Malcolm’s neck, and hugged him tightly.
“I’ll make you ever so proud,” he sniffled. “I didn’t know I could cry from being so happy.”
“You’re going to be the very best doctor in all of London,” Mary said, moving over to him and pushing away more stray tears. “Just think, if Mr. Mead should fall sick you’ll be able to cure him.”
“I will, I will,” Jack replied, nodding his head fervently, “and Connie too, and all your friends.”
“Mary, I have a favor to ask,” Connie began, “and I hope and pray you’ll say yes, but you mustn’t feel you have to, though given the news you received,” she said carefully, knowing Jack hadn’t been told about the death
of his father, “I suspect it might be just what the doctor ordered.”
“Of course I’ll say yes, though I can’t think what favor I could possibly do for you.”
“Would you be willing to live with us and be my, uh, companion? I need help with my clothes and hair, and—”
“You mean be your lady’s maid. I can think of nothing I’d like better. I was training for that position when I met Alan years ago. I’d be thrilled to join you. Jack, would you like to live with Mr. Mead and Connie?”
“Gosh, yes, but what about Father?”
“We’ll talk about him later.”
“Mary, please understand,” Connie said hastily. “I could never see you as a servant.”
“Connie, you’re the daughter of a baron. My goodness, I’d be honored to work for you. I’m absolutely overwhelmed by this amazing change in our fortunes.”
“How long will it take you to pack your bags? I can’t wait to get you out of this area.”
“I have a few obligations, and I won’t leave my clients in the lurch, but no more than a few days.”
“Three days? Four days?”
“Four days and we should be ready.”
“Can I still visit Dr. Murphy?” Jack asked anxiously.
“Is he the doctor who’s been teaching you?” Malcolm asked.
“Yes, Mr. Mead, and he has a place for us to go when we get sick. He takes care of everyone around here, even nasty old man Cooper.”
“When we come back to collect you in four days, I want you to show me where his office is. Will you do that for me?”
“Are you going to help him too, Mr. Mead?”
“I certainly am, Jack. I most certainly am.”
* * *
Across town in the Clifford family home, Frank had just finished preparing the drawing room for the auction. Holding the event where Connie’s parents were attacked seemed fitting. He checked his watch. Kendrick was due any moment. When he heard one of his men answer the front door, then footsteps in the hall, he knew it would be the butler.
“Detective Colby,” Kendrick declared, walking in. “I’m very pleased to see you, sir.”
“Hello, Kendrick. Are you ready for this evening?”
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