Scandal Above Stairs_A Below Stairs Mystery

by Jennifer Ashley

  “I see.” My chest was tight, my eyes stinging, and I could scarcely catch my breath. My reaction to finding him alive and well made me a bit sharper than necessary. “Why not don one of your many disguises and walk about without worry, as you usually do?”

  “I have donned a disguise,” Daniel said. “As you saw in the churchyard. I ought to have known I couldn’t fool you.”

  “Only because I saw your eyes. If you wish to stay hidden, I advise you not to look straight into anyone’s face.”

  “I couldn’t help myself.” Daniel’s voice went soft.

  I folded my arms, though my heart thumped. “Base flattery. It was foolish. What are you doing for food?”

  “Not much. I was waiting for the rest of the staff to retire before I approached you. I know you are usually the last one to go upstairs.”

  “And how did you expect to get inside? Pick the locks? Saw through the bolt? Or had you planned to tap on the door and scare the wits out of me?”

  “None of that matters now.” Daniel grinned as he slid into his South London persona. “Spare me a crust, missus? I’m powerful hungry.”

  He wouldn’t tell me what he’d planned, drat the man. I had no doubt that Daniel was a skilled housebreaker on top of his other areas of expertise.

  “Very well. Stay there. I’ll bring out what I was saving for the beggars. Which, tonight, I suppose is you.”

  “I’m ever so grateful, Kat.” Sincerity rang in his voice. I supposed that if he’d been hiding since yesterday morning, he’d have missed several meals and be truly hungry.

  “What am I to do with you?” I muttered as I swung around and entered the kitchen.

  Mr. Davis had gone into his pantry, door closed, to finish his duties for the night—I suspected part of those duties was to polish off the wine that would only go to waste. But the footmen were still rushing about, shouting jovially at one another as they wound down from serving or answered bells from upstairs. Tess was nowhere in sight, but I could hear her voice coming from the linen room as she chatted cheerfully with whoever was there with her.

  I laid the remains of the vol-au-vents and cake into a basket, covered the food with a cloth, and walked outside again, snatching up a lit candle in a chamber stick along the way. I did not slip out furtively, because that would have drawn far more attention than me walking outside with a purposeful step. The footmen and Charlie would see me going out to give food to the beggars as I did every night.

  Daniel screwed up his eyes at the candle flame. Sudden light can be painful when one has been in darkness for a long time. He seized the basket as I handed it to him, tearing back the cloth to get to the food inside.

  “It’s a lucky beggar what gets your leavings,” he said, reaching for one of tasty balls of pastry and chicken.

  “The cloth is for wiping your hands first,” I said. “I imagine they are quite grimy.”

  “You are right, as usual.” Daniel cheerfully shook out the cloth and scrubbed his hands. “London streets are full of dirt.”

  “And all manner of other things.” I shook my head as he stuffed a vol-au-vent into his mouth much as Tess had. My candle’s flame lit the fierce red pustules on his cheeks. “You look dreadful.”

  “That is the idea,” Daniel said, chewing. “No one wants to be near a man with sores on his face.”

  “They are very realistic.” I bent to examine them in horrified fascination.

  “Flour and water with a little red dye,” Daniel said cheerfully. “Learned it from an actor.”

  “Of course you did.” I realized I was shaking and closed my hand more firmly around the chamber stick. “Where have you been sleeping? On the streets?”

  “Kindness of strangers.” Daniel gave a low laugh around a mouthful of vol-au-vent. “Don’t worry about me, Kat. I learned resilience at a very young age.”

  He’d told me, more or less, that he’d grown up in the gutter. I was not quite sure what he meant by that, except that he’d learned how to survive in a brutal world.

  “What about James? How can you take care of him when you’re hiding from the law?”

  Daniel shook his head. “James is living well in his boardinghouse, looked after by his landlady, a woman I chose for her kindness. I tell no one I work with where it is. There is a reason James does not live with me. This way, I always know he’s safe.”

  “Does he know you are safe?” I snapped. “You must give up this life you lead and do right by him. Cease the intrigues and become the deliveryman you know how to be. It’s an honest job for an honest wage.”

  Daniel listened, but unfortunately, I only made him smile. “Such an idyllic life is not for the likes of me, Kat. I’m paying off debts. One day, when I’ve paid them . . .”

  “I know, I know. You’ll tell me all. I hope I have the patience to wait that long.”

  Daniel sobered. “So do I.”

  I flushed. “Well, see that you pay them quickly.” The words were foolish, but they were all I could think of. “You should not sleep out here. You’ll catch a chill, and besides, someone will see you sooner or later. If you wait, I can smuggle you upstairs to the storage room—there’s a bed there for those who are doing poorly, and everyone is in robust health at the moment.”

  “No need.” Daniel broke through my babbling. “The parish vicar is being very kind to me. I only came here to see you.”

  He’d melt my heart, this one. I clenched my hand at my side, trying not to let warmth dance around my chest. “Because you knew I’d feed you.”

  Daniel’s laughter made the warmth expand. “I’d have come even if you couldn’t stir up a decent gruel. But as it is . . .” He shrugged and made an Mmm noise as he popped a large piece of cake into his mouth. “You’re a treasure, Mrs. Holloway.”

  I huffed. “Go on with you. Take the basket if you like—if you leave it back here from time to time, I’ll fill it up. But if Mr. Bywater catches you, he’ll fetch a constable. He’s wary of burglars. You have heard that there have been thefts up and down Park Lane, haven’t you?”

  “So I gather.” Daniel finished the last chunk of cake and very properly dabbed at his mouth with the napkin, a vagrant with fine manners. “An advantage of this guise is that I can speak to the gentlemen of the road who drift about London. They carry a surprising wealth of information.”

  As did servants in large households. I had already made a plan in my head to find out about the Mayfair thefts as I introduced Tess to my acquaintances.

  “By gentlemen of the road, you mean tramps,” I said. “What do they have to say?”

  “That it’s not the usual housebreakers and thugs robbing the places. Or tramps, as you call them, finding an opportune door or window left open. Most of them would steal food or clothing or something small to sell—but in these cases they swear they haven’t. They also say doors haven’t been left open, or windows broken.”

  “Mr. Bywater says it’s antiquities that have gone missing,” I said. “So Mr. Davis heard as he was serving tonight. Bronzes, silver boxes, Greek and Roman things, objects from Egyptian tombs.”

  Daniel sat so still I feared he’d been taken with apoplexy. I crouched down, risking my skirts, to flash the candle at his face.

  He looked awful, as I’d said, with the very real-looking sores, his eyes lined with exhaustion, his face dirty with beard. He wasn’t ill—he was deep in thought. I could tell by the sparkle in his eyes, though that might have been the reflection of the candle.

  “Conclusion,” Daniel said in a quiet voice. “The thefts are done by someone who is welcomed into the houses, someone who understands exactly what he is taking. Or she. A houseguest.”

  “Or a servant,” I pointed out. “We visit one another, run errands between houses.”

  “A servant would have to get upstairs and know what they are looking for.” Daniel rubbed at his face
, some of the flour and dye flaking away. “Damn and blast. If I wasn’t a hunted man at the moment, I’d don my suit and get myself invited into one of these homes and have a look around.”

  “Mr. Thanos could do that,” I said. “He could claim to be an expert at antiquities and ask to see collections. I’m certain he’d be happy to do so.”

  Daniel nodded but hesitantly. “I have no doubt Thanos would enjoy it, but he is not always discreet.”

  “You mean he’ll blunder about? He’s very intelligent—he and Lady Cynthia had a lively discussion about antiquities at supper, Mr. Davis told me.”

  “His expertise is mathematics. History and antiquities is more of a hobby. A true fanatic collector would know far more than even Elgin. Although, if we put it to him, I’m certain he could read up faster than lightning.”

  “Lady Cynthia could go with him,” I went on, growing animated. “She can make certain he doesn’t say the wrong things. You’d have to take her into your confidence, but she can be trusted. I could go as well, though of course, I’d stay downstairs, but I can certainly make the staff talk to me.”

  Daniel scowled. “Is it any use for me to tell you to leave it alone? Remember Saltash? There is as much danger in this.”

  “I do remember.” I thought of the cold darkness, explosions lighting the night, my terror when Daniel was nowhere to be seen. “You are fortunate I was with you, and you know it. A warm kitchen will be a much safer place for me to sit while information comes to my ears. I will speak to Lady Cynthia and Mr. Thanos.” I met his angry gaze. “Meanwhile, what will you do?”

  “Decide who murdered the man in the pawnbrokers. There is a very good chance he meant to murder me and struck down the other man by mistake. This is why I say there is danger.” Daniel let out a breath. “We had word that those stealing antiquities from the museums would contact that particular pawnbroker. The pawnbroker was quietly arrested and removed, as I said, and I was installed in his place as his trusted confederate. I’d developed a rapport with the man, Varley, who was on the verge of bringing me what I was looking for, or at least putting me in contact with those who could get them for me. And then the thug is killed. I have no idea if Varley killed him, or if the thug was one of Varley’s and another thief killed him for his own reason, or whether the target was me. No matter what, someone wants people involved in this to die, and me to be arrested for it.” He growled in frustration, hands balling in his gloves.

  “Why doesn’t everyone in the police know what you are doing?” I asked. “I had an Inspector McGregor here today, trying to pry information out of me. He was very angry that he had no idea what was happening. Shouldn’t your Chief Inspector Moss have told him?”

  Daniel was already shaking his head. “Very few at Scotland Yard know about me. That must remain so.” He gave me a sharp look.

  “Well, I certainly didn’t betray you to Inspector McGregor. But I am very puzzled. This spring, you commanded constables, and they obeyed you without question.”

  “Oh, there were questions.” Daniel’s teeth flashed in the darkness. “The men in Cornwall were obeying their chief constable, not me.”

  “And then you were sitting in a pawnshop waiting for men to offer you stolen antiquities, so you could haul those thieves off to a magistrate. What is your rank in the police? Sergeant? Inspector?”

  His grin widened. “I never said I was a policeman, Kat.”

  I longed to grab him and shake him until he told me everything. “You don’t look much like a copper, I will concede. But what other man would lay traps for criminals, or have the power to release an innocent woman from prison, or dress up like a gentleman to catch swindlers?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I can only give you my word I am no policeman.” His looked wistful. “At one time, I wanted to be, but they turned me away.”

  This was a piece of information wholly new to me, and I clutched at it. “Did they? Why? You are obviously good at catching villains.”

  He shrugged, as though nonchalant, but I saw a flicker of old anger in his eyes. “Because they saw a young man who would be disobedient and insubordinate, who would never be able to follow rules or even be bothered to polish the buttons of his coat. I was furious and disappointed, but they were right.”

  “So you decided to go after evil men on your own.” I had no idea if this was true, but I hungered to know more about him.

  “Not quite. Much of what I’ve done would have landed me in Newgate by now if I’d struck out on my own.” Daniel lifted a hand as I opened my mouth. “No more questions. The reason I don’t tell you is I gave my word, a solemn and binding oath.”

  Drat him. He knew I highly valued a person keeping his word.

  “I can only ask that you trust me,” Daniel went on. “I know I have not earned that trust, but I hope for it.”

  “I haven’t much choice, do I?” I straightened up, the candle wavering. “I will speak to Mr. Thanos and Lady Cynthia regarding attending gatherings in Park Lane. I will also make my visits to the servants and see what I can discover. How are we to find you to tell you the results of our busybodying? Send a carrier pigeon with a message on its leg?”

  Daniel’s true laughter burst around me. “One reason I treasure you is that I never know what you will say. No need to round up pigeons. Two evenings from now, have Thanos meet me at the pub near Bedford Square. He’ll know the one.”

  “Where the scholars go?” I asked.

  I had the satisfaction of seeing Daniel start in surprise. “Yes—how did you know that?”

  I knew because Mr. Thanos had mentioned it. “I have secret informants myself, Mr. McAdam.”

  Daniel peered at me as though assessing whether I joked. “I see. Well, use your informants to tell him to meet me there. We will discuss what he finds. I should be able, by that time, to transform myself into a man who’d be let into a pub.”

  I sobered. “Do take care, Daniel. If something happened to you, how would I know?”

  “I’d cease arriving to badger food from you,” he said in a light tone.

  “It is not funny. You tell Chief Inspector Moss to take better care of you. And to tell me if you are hurt or—or worse. I’d need to break the news to James, wouldn’t I? And arrange to adopt him.”

  Daniel gave a start. “Adopt him? Kat . . .”

  “I couldn’t let a fatherless boy run about the streets, could I? He has been of great help to me, and I feel responsible for him.” I took a step back, the wobbling candle spattering wax on my fingers. “You keep yourself well and such a thing will not be necessary, will it? Good night, Mr. McAdam.”

  I spun on my heel and strode off, not wanting my trembling to be put down to anything more than a chill in the air.

  Daniel said not a word as I hurried to the scullery door and let myself inside. I glanced back before I shut the door, but I could not see Daniel—the darkness under the stairs was too complete. Whether he remained there or had already fled, I could not see.

  I shut the door, contemplated keeping the bolt drawn back in case he did need to come in to keep warm, then I decided against it. Daniel would not come in, but a burglar could, and I could not let the vagabonds of London run off with Lord Rankin’s silver.

  I closed my eyes, whispered a prayer for Daniel, and shoved the bolt home.

  * * *

  * * *

  I remained in the kitchen very late that night, sending Tess up to bed. She went readily—“So nice to sleep in a soft bed with covers over ya and a girl who don’t kick too much, innit?”

  I didn’t know how Emma felt about sharing a bed with Tess, but Emma had not complained. I envied Tess for finding such comfort in the simple things in life, but perhaps she was right. Nothing wrong with enjoying warmth and a good night’s sleep when it was available.

  For me, I knew sleep would not come, so I busied myself in the kitchen a
nd larder as I did many nights, making notes and planning recipes, looking things up in the cookbooks, my treasured two and the ones that had been in the house when I arrived.

  I was surprised this household had so few cookbooks, and those years out of date—one of the first ladies I was cook for had a mania for collecting them. Plenty were produced each year, here and in America, giving not only recipes collected and tested but instructions on how to do everything from basting and braising to planning a large supper party to making paper boxes for delicate confectionaries. I was of the opinion that more people had a passion for reading cookbooks than actually cooking or I would not see so many new books advertised.

  I wondered, as I debated the work involved in making a gâteau St. Honoré—a lovely combination of choux pastry, cream, and caramelized sugar—if I remained awake in case Daniel should knock on the door and ask for more sustenance or take up my offer of the bed for the night. I told myself I was only doing my job and preparing future menus, and went back to the instructions for the gâteau. It would be quite an undertaking, plus I’d need ice in which to chill the cake so that it did not melt into a puddle on the sideboard. Daniel would like the confection—he’d close his eyes in enjoyment as he savored the sticky caramel and the cold cream, the soft bite of the choux pastry . . .

  “Are you awake, Mrs. H.?”

  I blinked open my eyes as Lady Cynthia sat down in front of me at the kitchen table. I saw that I’d broken the end of my pencil by pressing it too hard against my notebook, and hastily set the pencil down.

  Cynthia wore a tailored black frock coat, watered silk waistcoat and white cravat, black gloves, and black trousers over elegant leather boots that she crossed as she stretched out her legs. Even in her gentleman’s attire, she didn’t wear color. She felt the death of her sister more keenly than others realized.

  “I beg your pardon, your ladyship,” I said, closing my book. “I did not hear you.”

  “It’s two in the morning. I’d think you’d want to toddle off to bed, but since you’re awake . . .” Cynthia sprang from her chair. I struggled up, my training not letting me remain seated while my employer stood. Cynthia surged forward and caught me in an exuberant hug. “You’re a genius, Mrs. Holloway. You saved my sanity tonight, no mistake.”