Scandal Above Stairs

by Ashley Jennifer

  “I suppose he was so determined to kill off Mr. Harmon that he persuaded himself it didn’t matter,” I said, my anger at Sir Evan surging anew. “You are right that Sir Evan is a bad man, and your friend is better off away from him, never mind the scandal her leaving him will cause.”

  “Hang the scandal,” Cynthia said brightly. “And hang Sir Evan. Clemmie is better off without him.”

  There were places in the world, I had heard, where divorce brought no stigma, but Britain wasn’t one of them. Both Clemmie and Sir Evan would be socially marked by divorce, which could harm Sir Evan’s career and prevent Clemmie being accepted among polite society or into a new marriage.

  I wished it weren’t so. A woman should not be made a prisoner in her own household, socially condemned if she escaped her jailor and torturer. There had to be a better lot for us.

  I left Cynthia guarding Clemmie and returned to Daniel and Mr. Thanos. I entered the bedchamber to see Daniel and a strapping footman bundling Mr. Thanos into a bath chair—Daniel quickly told me he had made arrangements for Mr. Thanos to be taken to Daniel’s rooms, where both he and his landlady could watch over him.

  I am certain Lady Cynthia could have asked her uncle to make room for Mr. Thanos in the Mount Street house, as Mr. Bywater seemed taken with him, but I did not suggest it. I wanted Mr. Thanos well away from Mayfair and out of the reach of Sir Evan Godfrey.

  Distance from Mayfair hadn’t helped the thug who’d been struck down in the pawnbrokers on the Strand, I remembered, but I had other ideas about who’d done that and why.

  Daniel himself pushed Elgin in the chair to the head of the staircase, then the footman and Daniel, with me helping, got Elgin and the bath chair downstairs. Daniel sought out and spoke to no one as we went, not McGregor, not Chief Inspector Moss. Outside, Daniel and the footman trundled Elgin into a hansom, the cabbie on the driver’s perch one of Daniel’s friends. The bath chair remained behind, looking forlorn and empty in the morning sunlight.

  Before Daniel climbed in beside Elgin, he leaned down and whispered into my ear.

  “Did you find it?”

  “Indeed I did,” I whispered back. “I gave it to Inspector McGregor.”

  Daniel started. “McGregor?” I feared for a moment I had made a great blunder, but then his smile blazed out. “Good lass.”

  Without explaining why he was so pleased with me, Daniel touched his cap and swung into the hansom with Elgin.

  The cabbie, Lewis, nodded down at me in greeting and then chirruped to the horses. The hansom darted away, skidding a little on the mud in the drive, then was gone, swallowed in the mists that enshrouded the London morning.

  * * *

  * * *

  I fetched Tess, and we went home. The police were finished, Mrs. Martin was safe from them, at least for the moment, and I was exhausted. Tess drooped on the walk to Mount Street, but she held up, not collapsing until we’d reached the kitchen.

  “Whew,” she exclaimed as she threw herself into a chair. “What a ding-dong. I thought we’d all be in the dock before we knew what was what.”

  “It was clever of you to tell the inspector you’d tasted all the dishes,” I said. “Your robust health has cleared the kitchen of any conspiracy. But it was bad of you to help yourself without asking leave. We always keep food back for the staff’s meals—you know that by now.”

  As I spoke, I rid myself of my outer wraps and tied on my apron. I’d start breakfast and also prepare a basket to take to poor Mr. Thanos. I had no doubt that if anyone could cure him, it would be Daniel, but Elgin would need to regain his strength, and very good food was key.

  I worried far more for Clemmie, still in the house with her murdering husband. I had no doubt that Cynthia would guard her like a dragon, but I would feel better when McGregor made his tests on the jar and went back to cart Sir Evan off to Newgate.

  “We wasn’t in our own kitchen,” Tess argued as I fetched a bowl of eggs and side of bacon from the larder. I dropped the bacon to the table and filled a pan of water to set on the stove. “How was I to know whether old Ma Martin would feed us after all the work we did for her? ’Ere.” She slid out of the chair and moved in front of me as I took my chef’s knife from the drawer. “Are we cooking breakfast now? After our night? I was thinking of doing some sleeping first.”

  “The household is rising, and they will expect their morning repast,” I returned calmly. “After which I will do some preparation for the rest of the meals, and then I’m off. It is my day out. You’ll be able to have a nap between dinner and supper, and then I’ll be back. I can likely manage supper on my own tonight if you want to go up to bed early.”

  Tess gaped at me, her color rising. “You’re still having your day out? Leaving me to it? I have to work while you hole up and sleep?”

  “I will not be sleeping, and you will not have much to do,” I said as I dodged past her to the table. I began to slice the bacon, its smoky odor filming the air. “We will keep dinner and supper simple—no guests are expected, and with any luck, the master and mistress will decide to go out. Lady Cynthia will remain at her friend’s home for a time. I never miss my day out, Tess. That you must learn. Recall that tomorrow is yours. I will guard that time for you as staunchly as I guard mine. We work together, my girl, not against each other. Always remember that.”

  Tess only stared at me, her brows drawn on her tired face, but at last she nodded, and lifted the bowl of eggs to ladle them carefully into the boiling water.

  * * *

  * * *

  I was enormously tired, but Tess and I finished the breakfast for the household and the staff and made preparations for the midday meal. Tess ceased complaining and meekly assisted me, though she did not hide her yawns.

  As soon as I could, I washed my face and hands, changed my dress, put on my coat and best hat, and went downstairs and out through the scullery. I left Tess regaling Mr. Davis with our adventures of the middle of the night, but I did not linger to put in any word.

  I climbed aboard an omnibus in Piccadilly, nodding off as we made our way eastward. The conductor had to nudge me awake when I needed to descend in St. Martin’s Lane and change for the Strand.

  We rolled past the pawnbrokers, still shut and dark, on past Southampton Street, where Daniel had rooms and had presumably had taken Mr. Thanos, past the bulk of Somerset House and St. Mary le Strand on its little island in the middle of the road, and around the next island of St. Clement Danes.

  Again, I had to be prodded to leave my seat at St. Paul’s Churchyard, but the tiny naps had refreshed me, as had journeying ever closer to my daughter.

  I was fully restored by the time I reached the Millburns’ home, and Grace was throwing her arms around me. Her warmth, her kisses on my cheek, her voice flowed through me and took away all the hurt.

  * * *

  * * *

  I spent a wonderful day with Grace, walking, talking, joining in games and singing with Mrs. Millburn and her four children, culminating with Grace and I having our tea in a shop.

  I reluctantly said good-bye, my heart burning with the need to be with my daughter always, though I told myself it was only three and a half days until I could see her again.

  I decided to leave the omnibus where Southampton Street intersected the Strand, to walk to Daniel’s rooms and visit Mr. Thanos. I hoped to see him improved, but when I knocked on the outer door of the boardinghouse, the landlady, Mrs. Williams, told me she hadn’t seen a thing of Daniel for weeks.

  I stepped back, stunned, then covered my expression and hastily said I’d taken the chance to look him up. I disliked to ask her where else Daniel might be staying, because if Daniel hadn’t told me, Mrs. Williams would conclude he did not wish me to know.

  I returned to the Strand to find another omnibus, too tired from my night to walk the rest of the way to Mayfair. Once aboard, I clenched my hands
over my reticule and moved from anger to worry back to anger.

  I tried to be reasonable—Daniel hadn’t said exactly where he’d be taking Mr. Thanos, as there had been too many ears close by. He’d only said to his “rooms,” and I’d inferred he meant his boardinghouse in Southampton Street. But, I reasoned, others must know of this boardinghouse, and Daniel wished to conceal Elgin to keep him safe. Therefore, Daniel would have taken him elsewhere, to lodgings I did not know about. I remembered visiting Daniel in Southampton Street and reflecting that he had nothing personal in his rooms. I’d concluded that he kept anything personal in another place—I only wished I knew where.

  The one person who must know was Lewis the cabbie. Daniel hadn’t given him a direction before they started off, so either Lewis had already known where to go, or Daniel had told him once they were out of earshot of Sir Evan’s house.

  I began to keep my eye out for Lewis as I went, but the chance of me finding one cabbie among the myriad hansoms flowing through London was slim.

  My legs were wobbly by the time I left my final omnibus of the day and walked up South Audley Street toward home. I hoped the Bywaters truly would go out so I’d only need to throw together a meal for the staff. I’d go up to bed early—Tess knew by now how to make preparations for the next morning, and I’d let her take her day out as soon as she woke tomorrow.

  Shadows were lengthening as I rounded the corner to Mount Street. In one of those shadows, I saw Tess.

  She was not alone. She spoke earnestly to a taller man, who was as slim and freckled as she was, his hair the same shade. Tess leaned to him as though admonishing him, at the same time she shoved a cloth-covered basket into his middle.

  “Tess!” I called, striding forward.

  Tess saw me. Her eyes widening in alarm, she bodily turned the tall man away and gave him a push. “Run!” she shouted at him.

  The man sent her a frightened glance and began to shuffle away. Tess whirled around and threw out her arms, blocking my path.

  “Let him go, Mrs. H.,” she pleaded with me. “He ain’t doing anyone no harm.”

  23

  I stood quietly, making no move to go around Tess as the large young man vanished into the crowd.

  Passersby halted when Tess cried out, Londoners always ready to round up and sit on a thief. But seeing the two of us facing each other and no one in hot pursuit of a culprit, they hesitated, allowing him to slip away. One passerby in particular, a youth with reddish hair and Daniel’s smile, sent me an inquiring glance, but I gave him a minute shake of my head.

  “Who was that?” I asked Tess. “Your brother?”

  Tess lowered her arms and eyed me uncertainly. “I suppose we look enough alike. He ain’t no harm, Mrs. Holloway. He’s only hungry.”

  “So are many. He’s old enough to work, isn’t he?” The lad wasn’t a youth—older than Tess, I guessed.

  Tess swallowed, her eyes moist. “He’s not much good at it. No one will hire him.”

  I pulled Tess out of the way of traffic to the railings that separated our house’s scullery stairs from the street. “He’s the one you were protecting when you made the fuss and got arrested, isn’t he? You were willing to stand in the dock for him. Why didn’t he come forward? Surely your own brother would have tried to save you.”

  Tess’s eyes were full of pain. “Because they’d hang him, and he knew it. He don’t mean to be bad, Mrs. H. But no one understands him.”

  “You took food from our larder to give to him, so he wouldn’t steal it himself,” I said, laying out the series of events in my head. “You unbolted the door for him, and I’d guess unlocked it too, unless he picked the lock. After the door was discovered open the first time, we were more careful about the bolt, so you came down and replaced the screws so the bolt would simply fall out.” I stepped against the railing as a cart rumbled by too close. “But why would he leave the door open? It announced his presence—shouted that someone had been inside.”

  Tears beaded on Tess’s lashes, and she blinked them away. “Because he’s simple. He don’t know. He don’t steal because he’s bad—he steals because he don’t understand. I look after him. I’d have come down here and made sure the door was shut, but I was never sure when he’d come, and I never been in beds so soft and warm before. I sleep so hard, no matter how much I try to keep awake or come down early . . .”

  “Tess,” I began.

  “He didn’t go through no one’s things, I promise. Didn’t even come far into the house. I’d leave the basket inside the scullery, under the sink, and he’d come in and fetch it. I didn’t want to leave it outside, because then any beggar would have snatched it away, or the cats would get it. He’d pick up the basket and be off. He does what he’s told if I tell him right.”

  “Tess—”

  “I’ll go. You can take everything I gave him out of me wages. You don’t have to give me any wages at all. I’ll just go. I’ll—”

  “Tess, for heaven’s sake, cease interrupting me.” I had to take a breath when Tess halted mid-flow. “You are not going anywhere. You could have avoided all these dramatics if you’d simply told me your brother needed help. I would have found a way to provide it. You did not tell Daniel about him either, did you? Daniel suspected you were protecting someone, but he never learned who. Whyever didn’t you explain, child?”

  Tess wiped her nose with the back of her glove. “And have him carted to a workhouse or Bedlam or some other horrible place? No, thank you. He does well enough on his own—only he can’t hold a job more than a few days. He gets restless and has to move on. Sometimes whoever hires him gets angry and don’t pay him, and so he’s done all the work for nothing. The worst is he never notices. He comes to me, and I help him. He knows he can always come to me.”

  Tears trickled down Tess’s cheeks, and her lips trembled.

  Without a word, I took her by the arm and guided her down the steps and into the house.

  Below stairs was full of the usual comings and goings of maids and footmen fetching tea or hot water or extra coal. Mr. Davis strode through the passage, admonishing a footman who’d not cleaned a piece of silver up to his standards, but stopped when he saw me.

  “I hope you had a fine day out, Mrs. Holloway,” he said cheerfully. “The master is at his club tonight, Lady Cynthia is still sitting with her ill friend, and the mistress is off to visit her cronies in an hour or so. House to ourselves tonight. Ain’t it grand? Looking forward to tucking into one of your pies, Mrs. H.”

  “You presume I have rushed home to cook for you, Mr. Davis,” I said, keeping my tone light. “You might have to do with a cold supper.”

  “Cold pie or hot, it will be delicious.” Undeterred, Mr. Davis continued on to the butler’s pantry, whistling.

  I ushered Tess, who was trying to hide her weeping from the others, into the housekeeper’s parlor. “Sit,” I said, pointing to the Belter chair.

  Tess plopped herself down. I shut the door and sat in a chair beside her.

  “You should never be afraid to come to me, my dear, no matter what. I gather scraps for the beggars every night—I can keep something back for your brother, which you can hand to him without him having to pick locks or you breaking the bolt. You will have to pay back the equivalent of what you stole, because I can’t have a thief in my kitchen, but you can work it off and promise you will never do it again. I do understand, Tess. It is a difficult thing when a woman has to be the head of the family and take care of everyone in it. Trust me to comprehend this.”

  I wondered whether some of Tess’s rage at her father and mother had come from them being cruel to her brother for his slowness. She’d ended up with the burden of taking care of him far too early in her life.

  “What is his name?” I asked in gentle voice.

  “Robbie.” Tess took a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose, her hands shaking.
“Poor lad.”

  “I want you to tell Daniel about him,” I said. “He’ll know what to do.”

  Tess’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Oh no. I’m not having me brother locked up in a madhouse. He’d die in there. Don’t tell ’im, please, Mrs. Holloway. I’m begging you on my knees.”

  She did slide from her chair and land with a bang at my feet, desperately clutching at my skirt.

  “Don’t be so silly,” I admonished. “Daniel will do no such thing. I would think that by now you’d realize Daniel is a different sort of man than the usual reformer. He knows what’s best for people, and how to help them. He sent you to me, didn’t he?”

  “I learned never to trust nobody,” Tess said darkly.

  “Well, you need to make a start. Daniel is the best person to begin with. And me, of course.”

  Tess stared up at me, clearly astonished by my words, and then a flicker of hope shone in her eyes. I saw that hope turn to belief the moment before she launched herself up and at me, her arms flying around me in a wild embrace.

  “Mrs. Holloway, you are the best, best, best woman in the entire born world. I wish you’d been me mum. Maybe I’d not turned out so bad.”

  Tess cried, hugged me tighter, kissed my cheek. I gathered her to me as tears stung my eyes—the poor child had been starved, not only of food but of true affection and friendship.

  “Now, now, enough hysterics.” I patted her as I untangled myself. “We will work all of this out. For now, we must pull ourselves together and make a meal for the staff. I do not wish to hear them complaining all night.”

  The last made Tess smile a little, and I convinced her to dry her tears. We went to the kitchen, washed up in the sink, and turned to cooking a simple meal of meat pies and mash.