by Affair (lit)
those possessed of comfortable incomes.
He still could not believe that he had allowed himself to be dragged out on such a miserable night to search for clues relating to
a case of murder.
Charlotte was either quite sincere or quite mad, or she was using him to assist her and protect her person while she advanced her own
, 0/(
47
schem,s. A lady involved in blackmail and murder would certainly have need of a man-of-affairs-cum-bodyguard.
Baxter stifled a sigh. He really was not cut out for this sort of
thing. Life was so much simpler, so much more logical and orderly back In his laboratory. "We are fortunate to have the fog tonight, are we not, Mr. St. Ives?" Charlotte's voice was muffled by the hood of her cloak and a
thick, woolen scarf. "It will serve to conceal our presence in this neighborhood. Even if someone were to notice us, he would not be able to see us clearly enough to make out our identities."
Baxter was annoyed by her optimistic spirits. He glanced at her
as she stood beside him in front of the darkened Heskett house. Her
cloak rendered her anonymous. He knew himself to be equally well
covered. He had turned up the wide collar of his greatcoat and pulled down the brim of his hat to ensure that his features were
drenched in dense shadows.
The weak gas lights that had recently been installed in this part of town could not penetrate far into the fog. So long as he and
Charlotte stayed out of the short range of the lamplight, they would be reasonably safe from detection. Nevertheless, Baxter thought it
best to make one more stab at discouraging his new employer from her risky activities.
"You would do well to have some concerns on the subject, Miss Arkendale. As I have already advised you, this little adventure of yours is fraught with danger. It is not too late to turn back. The
carriage I hired is waiting just a short distance away in the park." "Not another word, if you please, St. Ives," she said crisply. "You have been attempting to dissuade me from this project ever
since we first discussed it. It grows wearying. I did not employ you to be the voice of gloom." "I feel an obligation to advise you." "I do not employ you for advice, either, sir. Enough. We don't have time for any more of your warnings and dire predictions. The time has come to get on with it."
48
___% -) Amanda Quick "As you say, Miss Arkendale." He watched as she unfastened the low iron gate to the side of the main entrance and started down the stone steps that led to the kitchen.
The front area of the town house, designed to provide access for servants and tradesmen, was situated below street level. Tendrils of fog swirled out of the black pit at the bottom of the steps. Charlotte's cloaked figure wafted, ghostlike, down into the stygian darkness before Baxter could think of any more warnings or arguments.
He moved swiftly to overtake Charlotte. He caught up with her as she came to a halt in the shadows near the kitchen door. "Allow me, Miss Arkendale." "Very well, sir, but I pray you will not delay us any further." "I would not dream of it. Stand back." "Whatever for, sit?" "Miss Arkendale, it is my turn to warn you not to delay us with idle questions. Now that we are committed to this piece of idiocy, speed is of the essence." "Of course, Mr. St. Ives." Charlotte's shoes scraped lightly on the stone as she stepped back. "Please proceed."
Baxter could not see a Nng in the thick darkness there below the street. He needed some light but he dared not use the lantern until they were inside the house.
He reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and withdrew one of three small glass vials he had stored there. He snapped the vial in half There was a flash of bright, intense light. He used his body to shield the glow. The glare revealed the kitchen door and its lock.
Charlotte gave a staritled exclamation. "What in heaven's name is that, Mr. St. Ives?" "I have devoted some time recently to working on a new method of producing instantaneous lights." Baxter fished a set of steel needles out of his pocket. "I am attempting to develop one that will last for more than a few seconds."
--ft.D
49
see." Charlotte's soft voice was imbued with admiration. ,,How very clever of you, sit. Where did you get those little tools?" "We men-of-affairs must acquire a variety of skills in order to
stay employable." He had learned to use the lock picks before the venture to Italy, knowing full well that he would be obliged to get through several locked doors in Morgan Judd's castle.
The light was already fading. Baxter selected a needle and slid it
into the lock.
He closed his eyes and applied the lock pick gently. There was a
faint click. The lock gave just as the last of the flaring light created by his new phosphorous compound sputtered out of existence. "Excellent work, Mr. St. Ives." "It depends entirely on one's point of view." Baxter pushed open the door and moved cautiously into the kitchen. "The new
owner of this house, for example, may not be so happily impressed. In fact, he might well have a serious objection to this little act of housebreaking. I certainly would if I were in his shoes." "I told you, I made inquiries. The house is empty and likely to
remain so until Mrs. Heskett's heir arrives to deal with the estate. By all accounts he is a distant relative who lives somewhere in Scotland and is quite infirm. No one expects him anytime soon." "What of the servants?" "They all left shortly after the murder. There was no one around to pay their wages. We have the place to ourselves." "As you are determined to go through with this business of searching for clues, we had best move quickly." Baxter closed the kitchen door and lit the lantern. "I instructed the coachman to come
in search of us if we did not reappear in the park within half an hour's time." "Half an hour?" Charlotte's disapproving frown was plainly revealed by the dim, golden glow of the lantern. "I do not know if that will be long enough to go through this entire house."
Baxter glanced quickly around the empty kitchen. "The sooner we're finished, the better."
50
Amanda Quick
"Need I remind you, sit, that you are not the one in charge of this affair? You are employed by me and I will give the instruc-
tions.
Baxter brushed past her into the hall. He opened another door and saw an empty sitting room that had no doubt been the province of the housekeeper. "We may as well start with the bedchambers
upstairs and work our way back down through the house." "Now see here, Mr. St. Ives-" "Don't dawdle, Miss Arkendale." Baxter took the stairs two at a
time. "The first rule of housebreaking is to be quick and efficient. Now, then, as I have the lantern, I propose that we work together." "Wait for me." Charlotte's footsteps sounded lightly on the
stairs. "Really, sit, when this is finished, you and I are going to have a serious discussion regarding the precise nature of your duties." "Whatever you say, Miss Arkendale." He turned the corner on
the landing and started up the next flight of stairs. "It might save
some time if you were to tell me just what we are looking for here tonight.
11 1 only wish I knew." She sounded slightly breathless as she
hurried to catch up with him. "I'm hoping something useful will
come to light." "I was afraid of that." He paused at the top of the stairs and gazed down the length of the darkened corridor. "The bedchambers, I believe. Shall we start at the end of the hall?"
Charlotte came to a halt beside him and peered into the shad-
ows. "That sounds logical." "I am nothing if not logical, Miss Arkendale." "Nor am 1, Mr. St. Ives." She lifted her chin and led the way to
the door at the end of the corridor.
Baxter followed her into the first bedchamber and set the lantern down on a table. He watched Charlotte swiftly open and close drawers. Her expression was serious and intent. Whatever this wa@.
it was
no game to her, he realized.
51
"May I ask how long you have been pursuing your rather bizarre career, Miss Arkendale?" Baxter halted in front of a wardrobe and
opened the door. "Since shortly after my stepfather was murdered a few years ago." Charlotte peered into the depths of a dressing table drawer. "My sister and I were left with very little in the way of funds. There are not a great many careers open to ladies. It was either become a
governess, which does not provide sufficient income for two, or
invent an alternative."
Baxter pushed aside a row of gowns to check the back of the
wardrobe. "Where did you get the inspiration for this particular alternative?" "My stepfather," Charlotte said coldly. "Lord Winterbourne. He
was a greedy opportunist who took advantage of my mother after she was widowed. He convinced her that he wished to take care of her as well as my sister and myself, but in truth he only wanted to
get his hands on her money. "I see."
"My poor mother died within months after Winterbourne mar-
tied her. I do not think she ever realized what a truly dreadful man
he was. But in truth he was a selfish, cruel, unfeeling creature.
Neither my sister nor I could mourn him." "It does sound as though you are far better off without him," Baxter said as he tried another wardrobe drawer. "Infinitely so." Charlotte went down on her knees beside the bed. "Society is riddled with such despicable liars, Mr. St. Ives. And for the most part women in my mother's situation are extremely vulnerable. They have very few means by which to ascertain the true facts about a suitor's background and financial status." "SO You offer them your services." Baxter went to the window and probed behind the heavy curtains. "Was your stepfather's killer found?" "No." Charlotte rose to her feet and gazed around the room,
52 Amanda Quick
searching for another likely hiding place. "Some nameless footpad did the deed."
How very convenient, Baxter thought. "This business of having one of your clients die on you makes for your second brush with murder in a relatively short span of years. Many people live out their entire lives without ever coming so close to that particular crime even once, let alone twice."
Charlotte swung around to face him. "Just what are you implying, sir?" "Merely an observation. Those of us who are interested in science cannot resist noting odd bits of logic and unusual connections. " He was about to let the curtain fall back into place when he
saw a slight movement on the other side of the street.
Baxter narrowed his eyes slightly. There was just enough glare reflected from the gas lamp to make out the shadowy figure that slipped through the swirling fog. A servant returning after an evening off from his duties perhaps, Baxter thought.
Or was it someone who had no more business being in this neighborhood than he and Charlotte?
Is something wrong, Mr. St. Ives? Why are you staring out the window?"
11 1 was merely examining the street." The shadowy figure had disappeared. Baxter let the curtains fall back into place. "I believe we have done a sufficiently thorough job on this bedchamber. Let's move on to the next one. " "Yes, of course. I wish to find Mrs. Heskett's chamber." Charlotte scooped up the lantern and hurried toward the door.
She gave him a sharp, reproving glance as she went past hini. Her cloak billowed out behind her in a seething, rolling movemem that seemed to reflect its owner's irritation.
Baxter followed slowly. A few minutes later, in the midst of searching the last bedchaniber, Baxter heard Charlotte give a soft gasp of surprise. "Find something?" Baxter turned to look at her.
A
53
She was down on her knees again, bent at the waist, tugging on
some object she had discovered beneath a large, mirrored wardrobe. ,What lo you make of this, Mr. St. Ives?" She hauled out a
large leather-bound volume and flipped it open. "What is it?" He walked across the carpet to join her. "A journal?" "No, it's a watercolor sketchbook." Charlotte turned a few pages to reveal a series of delicate pastel drawings. "Very likely it belonged to Mrs. Heskett." She paused abruptly and stared at one of
the sketches. "Good heavens."
Baxter raised his brows as he surveyed the watercolors. "Mrs. Heskett appears to have had a great interest in classical statuary." "Indeed," Charlotte said dryly. "Greek and Roman gods for the most part, I believe. They are, uh, exceptionally well-endowed fig-
ures. "Indeed."
Together they both gazed silently at the pictures of nude male statues that filled the sketchbook.
Charlotte cleared her throat. "I have seen a few of these statues myself in the British Museum. I think it's safe to say that Mrs. Heskett has taken some artistic liberties with certain portions of the
anatomies.
"One could certainly say that."
Charlotte closed the book with a snap. "Well, her choice of subject is not of interest to us. The important thing Is that I found this sketchbook shoved out of sight beneath the cabinet." "What's so odd about that? Many ladies enjoy painting with watercolors."
Quite true. My sister, Ariel, enjoys watercolors also." Charlotte raised her head, her eyes gleaming. "But she does not hide her sketchbook under a cabinet."
He suddenly understood where her deductions had led her. "Hold on a moment, Miss Arkendale. I would advise you not to leap to baseless conclusions. It's highly unlikely that Drusilla Heskett
54
Amanda Quick
deliberately hid her book of watercolors. It was no doubt acciden-
tally kicked under there by one of the servants when they packed up after her death."
"I disagree, sit. I think it was deliberately concealed there." "If so, it may well have been because of the subject matter.
Perhaps Mrs. Heskett did not want her staff to know that she en-
joyed drawing pictures of oversized phalluses."
Charlotte blinked. She looked away and suddenly became very busy attempting to tuck the large sketchbook inside her cloak. "Nevertheless, I shall want to examine it. I'm going to take it with
me." She gave up trying to stuff the book inside her cloak and
clutched it very firmly in front of her.
Baxter frowned at her sudden agitation. It took him a few sec-
onds to realize that he had embarrassed her. The notion of the
formidable Miss Arkendale being disconcerted by the use of the
word phallus amused him. "Miss Arkendale, I feel compelled to point out that if you take that volume out of this house you will have committed what some
would call an act of theft."
"Nonsense. I'm merely going to borrow it for a while."
"Borrow it?"
"I am involved in an inquiry into the circumstances of my client's death, after all," she reminded him brusquely. "I need as
much information as I can get." "What sort of information do you expect to find in a sketchbook
full of pictures of nude statuary?" Baxter demanded. "Who can say?" She whirled about and marched determinedly past him. "Come. We still have the downstairs rooms left to search. "
Baxter swore softly and started to follow her. But curiosity and an uneasy stirring at the back of his neck caused him to hesi-
tate.
He went back to the window, moved the curtain aside an in(_h
55
and looked down into the street. The view from this bed-
or so, chamber was similar to that of the first room he and Charlotte had searched.
The fog had thickened. The gas lamp across the way was only a
pinpoint of glare now. It did nothing to illuminate the scene. Bax-
ter waited for a long moment, searching for shadows amid the shadows, but he could not detect any movement. "Come along, Mr. St. Ives," Charlotte called softly from the hall. "We must hurry."
Baxter released the curtain and turned toward the door.
He had
seen no evidence of anyone lurking in the fog but for some reason he
did not feel any sense of relief.
He followed Charlotte downstairs. A short time later, he closed the last drawer in a desk and pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket. "We must be off, Miss Arkendale. " "Just a few more minutes." Charlotte stood on tiptoe to replace some volumes she had removed from a bookshelf. "I am almost finished."
11 We cannot linger any longer." Baxter picked up the lantern. She scanned the bookshelves with a quick, anxious eye. "But what if we have overlooked something of importance?" "You do not even know what you are searching for, so how will
you know if you have overlooked anything?" He took her arm and
led her swiftly toward the hall. "Move, Miss Arkendale."
She glanced at him with sudden alarm. "Is there something wrong, sir?" "Need you ask?" He drew her down the stairs toward the kitchen. "It is past midnight and we are entertaining ourselves by searching the house of a lady who was recently murdered. You are
even now preparing to take an item that once belonged to the previous occupant of these premises. Many people might well feet that there is some cause for concern in this situation."
56
Amanda Quick
"There is no call for sarcasm, sit. When I asked if there was
something wrong, I meant something other than your earlier fears concerning our project. You seem more uneasy of a sudden."
He glanced at her, startled by her perceptiveness. She was right. He had been growing increasingly restless and ill at ease ever since
he had spotted the man in the shadows across the street.
It had been a long time since he had experienced this particular very unpleasant, very cold frisson. Three years, to be precise.
He was a man of science and as such he refused to label the feeling as a premonition. But the last time the sensation had struck had been memorable, to say the least. He had the scars to prove how close he had come to getting himself killed. "Be careful, sit, or we shall both trip on these stairs," Charlotte whispered. "It will be difficult to get out of here if we are sporting broken legs. " "We're almost back to the kitchen," Baxter said as they went past the housekeeper's room. "I'm going to put out the lantern now.