Worked for them? Delaney, George, and I were riveted to the exchange between the couple.
“Hmm, not so sure I know the fellow,” Mr. Rockingham said. “You say he worked for us?”
Mrs. Rockingham handed the reading glasses to her husband and urged him to look again at the sketch. “That’s Thomas. I’m sure of it. Don’t you remember?”
Mr. Rockingham, at least a decade her senior, adjusted the glasses, then moved the picture away from him, before giving a firm nod. “Ah. It is Thomas. As you say, he’s a little older in this sketch. He left us some ten years ago. Found a position in South Africa of all things.”
Delaney reached forward and took the sketchbook. “So this man worked for you—”
“He was a footman,” Mrs. Rockingham supplied.
“Up until about ten years ago,” Delaney continued. “Did James Capshaw also work for you at that time?”
“Well, yes, but their employment overlapped by only a few weeks. In fact, Thomas trained James in his duties, just before he left us.”
My mind reeled from the shock of this revelation, yet I still wasn’t quite sure what had been revealed. The sketch was of Ainsworthy. That he had posed as a footman ten years ago was preposterous, so did that mean the man we all knew as the viscount was an imposter? If so, Capshaw must have recognized him at Alicia’s ball.
“You say he went to South Africa when he left your employ?” I asked.
“I believe he actually became a clerk in a mining operation owned by a gentleman, but I don’t recall the man’s name, assuming I ever heard it in the first place.”
Delaney had pocketed his notebook and was closing the sketch pad. He stood and nodded deferentially to the older couple. “Thank you for your time. You’ve been of great help to us.”
George and I said our good-byes and followed Delaney from the room. “Allow us to drop you wherever you’re going, Inspector,” George suggested. “And you can tell us what you make of all this.”
Delaney agreed and the three of us climbed into George’s carriage. Delaney gave the driver instructions, then settled in the seat opposite us.
“Ainsworthy, or the man we know as Ainsworthy, isn’t at his home in town,” I said. “According to his servants, he’s gone to the country.”
Delaney nodded. “Yes, that’s what I was told as well and, with the Rockinghams in town, I can understand why he’d wish to avoid them at all costs. Yet someone made an attempt on your life, so either he was still in town until yesterday, or someone else is trying to harm you.”
I let out a groan at his words. “Just how many people do you think wish to kill me, Inspector?”
His lips curved into a smile. It might be the first time I’d seen him with a genuine smile. “I don’t know the number, my lady, I only wish to ensure that none are successful.”
“Since that’s my goal too, I plan to be in attendance on Lady Harleigh, at all times, until you’ve found the killer.”
“But if Ainsworthy murdered Capshaw, then Kendrick is innocent. Who else is there?”
George turned to me with a grave expression. “Perhaps someone who was paid to follow you, and ensure you met with an accident.”
As I really couldn’t argue with that possibility, I changed the subject. “How do you intend to pursue Thomas, Inspector?”
“If I may keep this sketch, my lady, I’d like to duplicate it, and distribute it so we can search for him in town. Then I must set someone to the task of finding out what happened to the real Viscount Ainsworthy. I find it highly unlikely he sent Thomas home to England to impersonate him while he stayed in South Africa. So I fear he may well be deceased.”
I nodded my agreement, distressed by the thought. “But did he die at the hands of this man, Thomas, or by some other means?”
“That is indeed the question,” George concurred, “but regardless of how it happened, Thomas found a way of improving his lot in life, and might have got away with it, if not for Capshaw.” He turned to Delaney. “Do you intend to send anyone to the viscount’s country home?”
“Yes. As he is unaware we’ve learned who he is, I think that’s the most likely place for him to be, until the Rockinghams quit London. I’ll go there myself on the next possible train. Once I have him in custody, and back in London, we will, I hope, find out what happened to the real viscount.”
By this time we’d reached the Chelsea Division. As Delaney departed the carriage, he charged George with the task of watching over me, and me with the task of staying out of trouble.
As soon as the door closed, George gave me a mischievous smile that made me wonder if we were about to disappoint Delaney on both counts. I eyed him with suspicion. “What are you thinking?”
“That perhaps I should have a look around Ainsworthy’s house after all.” He took my gloved hand in his. “Can you arrange to give Bridget the evening off?”
With all the excitement yesterday, I’d completely forgotten to arrange anything with Bridget, allowing George access to Ainsworthy’s house last night. I ignored the gentle pressure of his hands, refusing to be distracted. “But why is that necessary now? If this Thomas is the thief, and he probably is, the police will recover the stolen property.”
“Ah, you forget my client wants me to recover his valuables. Not the police.”
“Oh, yes, of course. So you intend to break into Ainsworthy’s house tonight?”
“It may be my only chance. Once Delaney has Thomas in custody, the police will be going through it themselves.”
I didn’t respond immediately. An idea was taking shape in my brain. I wasn’t sure if I could pull this off, but it was worth a try.
George misunderstood my hesitation. “I don’t want to leave you unprotected, Frances, but I won’t be gone long. I can station two of my footmen on the street to guard your house.”
I brushed off his concern with a shake of my head. “That won’t be necessary, George. I’ll just go with you.”
“Absolutely not.”
The look of shock on his face was almost comical, but I was in no mood to laugh. “You must take me with you. Perhaps you were right when you said I was taken by the fever, but I’ve never felt such a sense of purpose as when I was trying to solve this crime. Then you and Hetty took it out of my hands.”
“But you did solve the crime. You provided the essential clue to the police. It’s not as if you could have arrested this Thomas fellow yourself and brought him to justice. In the end you would have had to turn your information over to Delaney, no matter how far you’d taken this. You did your part.”
“I don’t feel as though it’s finished. I understand I can’t bring Thomas to justice, but retrieving the valuables he stole, well, that is a sort of justice. Please take me with you, George. You said yourself, breaking into Mr. Kendrick’s house wasn’t dangerous. Why should Ainsworthy’s be any different?”
“The danger will be in having a novice along.” George still held my hands. He shook them as he spoke, emphasizing his words.
“You can’t dissuade me with that argument. Bridget will remove Barnes from the house, and the few other servants will either be in the kitchens or in their rooms in the attics.”
“Or moving from one place to the other.”
“Using the servants’ stairways. They’ll have no idea we’re there.” I locked eyes with him. “Please, George? We are partners.”
He looked away first, heaving a sigh. “I’m sure I’ll regret this.”
“You’ll take me?”
“You’ll follow my every order?”
“Without question.”
The carriage had stopped in front of my door. George released my hands, allowing me to gather the sketchbook and my bag. “Then make your arrangements with Bridget and meet me in my garden at midnight.”
“Midnight? Are you insane? I’d never allow Bridget to be out at so late an hour.”
George raised his eyes heavenward. “Whatever was I thinking? Meet me at eight.”
Chapter 19
“Wait here,” George whispered through the open window. “I’ll make certain no one is around and come back to help you inside.”
With that, he disappeared into the darkness of Ainsworthy’s house, and I was left in the shadows outside. The street was a hundred feet or so to my left, the mews about the same distance to my right, and someone’s home just a few feet to my back. That rather unnerved me. The mews was empty, the street, nearly so, with only the rare carriage rumbling past. My black wool mourning dress and cloak made me all but invisible from that distance. But the window in the house behind me was little more than an arm’s length away, and if anyone looked out, I would be very visible indeed.
For the first time tonight my confidence wavered, and I began to question my sanity in joining George in this venture. I’d had no problems in convincing Bridget to dine out with Barnes tonight. Hetty had been thrilled I was spending the evening with George, and had been conveniently in her own room when I left, giving her no chance to see my ensemble. I thought it perfect for sneaking around in the dark.
George too had been dressed in black, when I met him in the garden, and hesitated only long enough to confirm I truly wanted to go with him. The carriage ride was swift and silent. George’s driver dropped us at South Audley Street, near Mount Street, about a block away from the viscount’s house. The air was misty, but not so much that we needed an umbrella. George finally spoke as he helped me from the carriage.
“Remember,” he said, pulling me close and speaking in a low voice, “you agreed to follow my instructions without question.”
I nodded, and we set off down Mount Street on foot, walking arm in arm, as if we were on our way home for the evening. I’d felt perfectly confident then, rather excited even, until George pulled me off the walk, and into a dark passage between two houses. When we stopped, he raised a finger to his lips, pushed open a window, and hoisted himself inside.
He’d probably only been in the house for a minute or two, but standing here, exposed, it felt so much longer. I was beginning to worry in earnest when I saw him approach the window. I released my breath only to gasp it back in as the window sash behind me was raised.
Oh, dear God! There was no time to follow George through the window as he made a cowardly disappearance behind the wall. With my heart pounding, I turned toward the window in the house behind me, to see the curious face of a young boy.
“Hello,” he whispered. “Are you lost?”
Ah, a friendly child, about six years old, I’d say. And since he had a mouthful of something likely pilfered from the kitchen, it was doubtful he’d call for a parent or servant to send me on my way. I gave him a smile. “Lost? No, I’m not lost. I’m hiding.”
“That’s funny. I’m hiding, too. I’m supposed to be in bed, but I got hungry.” He held up a fistful of biscuits. “I snuck them out of the kitchen, but I didn’t want to get crumbs in my bed so I brought them in here.” His smile faded. “Would you like one?” he asked, clearly hoping I’d say no.
“Oh, no. I’d hate for you to still be hungry after you went to so much trouble.”
As he stuffed one of the treats in his mouth, I stepped closer to the window, resting my arms on the ledge.
“Are you Lord Ainsworthy’s friend?” Crumbs flew at my face as he spoke.
“Yes. We’re playing hide-and-seek right now. I don’t think anyone will look for me outside, do you?”
“Well, you left the window open. That might give you away.”
I glanced at the window as he gobbled the last biscuit. I turned back with a serious expression. “Perhaps I’d better find another place to hide then. And you had better get back up to bed before someone catches you.”
With a worried frown he brushed crumbs from his chin. “You won’t tell on me, will you?”
“Not if you go right now.”
He brought down the sash with a quiet thud, gave me a smile and a wave, and scurried away. I leaned back against the house for a moment to collect myself.
George’s head popped back out the window. “Well done,” he whispered.
I stepped over to Ainsworthy’s window, noting its height. “How do you propose I do this?”
“I don’t believe you’ll be able to climb in,” he said, eyeing my narrow skirts. “I suggest you try sitting on the ledge, if you can, and I’ll pull you inside.”
This turned out to be more easily said than done as the window ledge was several inches higher than my posterior. I suffered the indignity of several false tries, when George finally placed his hands on my waist and whispered in my ear, “On the count of three, hop.”
One, two, three, and I was on the ledge, swinging my legs through the window. Once I was again on my feet, I took in my surroundings. George had lit a gas lamp and turned it down low. From its soft glow, I could see we were in the viscount’s study. The walls were paneled in dark wood, with a bookshelf built in to the wall behind a large, tidy desk. On the opposite wall hung a portrait of some Ainsworthy ancestor, under which was placed a round table and two armchairs. There was a low upholstered bench under the window, which had assisted my entrance. The last wall held a door and two more paintings.
“Go through the desk,” George instructed. “I’ll check for a safe.”
“You never told me what I’m looking for,” I said, as I moved behind the desk.
“Yes, I suppose there’s no keeping it from you now,” he replied, looking behind one of the smaller paintings. “A packet of letters. And a key to a safe would be helpful. At least it would indicate a safe is in this room. If we’re fortunate, we won’t have to search any other part of the house.”
“We’re already fortunate in finding the window open.” I moved the chair back from the desk. It had a set of three drawers on either side, leaving an opening for one’s legs. I sunk down to my knees, and felt along the sides of the opening, finding a set of keys on a hook. Standing up, I held them out to George.
“Good fortune had nothing to do with the window. I came by earlier today, and made sure it was closed, but unlocked.” He took the keys, looked them over, and handed them back to me. “The two small ones are probably for the desk. Unlock the drawers first, and then I’ll look for a lock that fits the third key.”
I stared at him, the keys dangling from my fingers. “You’ve already been in the house? Why are we here now, then? Is this just a farce to appease me?”
He gave me a look of such complete incredulity that I instantly saw how ridiculous my question was. I held up my hands in surrender. “Forgive me. I did not mean to suggest you staged this housebreaking for my amusement.”
He leaned over the desk toward me, wearing an expression of exaggerated patience. “I stopped by today, asking for the viscount. Barnes of course told me he was away from home, so I asked to leave a note. I watched where Barnes went to fetch paper and pen, which was this room. When he left me alone to write my note, I slipped back here and unlocked the window.” His brows drew together in a frown. “And just what happened to following my orders without question?”
Heavens, he was thorough. “It starts in a moment,” I said, unlocking the desk drawers. “First, what do you mean, I’m looking for letters? What kind of letters could cause Haverhill such trouble?”
He took the keys and stepped over to the second small painting. “The trouble lies in who wrote them.”
The first drawer did indeed hold a file of letters, but they all belonged to the viscount. All were either addressed to him, or were copies of letters from him, and appeared to be of a business nature. As I scanned through them, it became clear the business was not going well. As the Rockinghams said, he owned an interest in a mining operation in South Africa. But it was not producing. The large number of dunning letters indicated he’d stopped paying his suppliers. There were a couple of references to “my clerk, Thomas Martin,” which drew my eye.
So Thomas now had a surname, and he’d worked for
Ainsworthy. The next letter threatened seizure of the mine for nonpayment of debt. A letter from the family solicitors announced the death of Ainsworthy’s uncle and that young Ainsworthy was now the viscount.
I opened the next file to find a letter in a different hand. The salutation was to “My Dearest Gordon.” The signature read, Claire. Gordon was Haverhill’s given name but his wife’s name was Anne, not Claire. These must be the damning letters. The remaining pages in the file were folded. I was just removing them from the drawer when I heard a muffled sound from across the room. George was replacing the large picture on the wall.
“Did you find the safe?” I whispered.
He nodded, moving back to the desk. “The safe, and a few gewgaws that might be the missing snuffboxes. No letters.”
I held up the small cache of letters. “I believe this is what you’re looking for.”
He took the letters, scanned the first one, and nodded. “Excellent work, Frances.” He folded the pages in half and stuffed them into his coat pocket. “And now we leave.”
I didn’t move. “He was having an affair. I can’t believe you’d help him cover it up.”
George came around the desk and replaced the files in the drawer. “We don’t have time to discuss that now, I’m afraid. We can’t risk being here when Barnes returns. Remember, Delaney charged me with watching over you.” His lips quirked in a half smile. “He’d think me derelict in my duty if we were both arrested for breaking and entering.”
I cursed the “following orders” clause in our agreement, while I watched him lock up the desk with all Ainsworthy’s and Thomas’s secrets inside. He was right, though. We could not be caught here.
We turned off the lamp, George helped me through the window, and within minutes, we were back in the carriage, heading home. I was the first to break the silence.
“Was protecting Haverhill really worth the risk you took? I doubt an affair would ruin his career.”
“He wasn’t having an affair. Claire Allen is his half sister.” In the darkness of the carriage, I barely saw his shoulders lift in a shrug. “His father had the affair.”
A Lady's Guide to Etiquette and Murder Page 22