I Thee Wed

by Amanda Quick

  “I see.”

  “The assumption is that Swan has been lurking near Miranda’s house ever since, awaiting his opportunity for revenge. Yesterday, when he saw the servants leave for the afternoon, he ran inside, shot Miranda dead, and stole the silver.”

  “Hmm.” Emma forced herself to pour a cup of tea in what she hoped appeared a calm, steady manner. “I wonder why Miranda sent her entire staff off for the afternoon. Rather odd, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, there is no great secret about that. The butler told the authorities that Miranda gave her staff the time off to go to the fair.”

  “How very generous of her,” Emma murmured. “And so very unlike her.”

  Letty chuckled. “If you want my opinion, I suspect Miranda wished to entertain her newest lover in private, so she got rid of the servants for the afternoon.”

  “Why would she insist on privacy for a tryst? She never sought to hide any of her other lovers. In point of fact, she was inclined to boast of her affairs.”

  “Perhaps it was her new lover who insisted on complete secrecy,” Letty said.

  It was clear that the gossips of the ton had already worked the entire plot out to their satisfaction. Poor Swan did not stand a chance, Emma thought. She hoped for his sake that he had had the good sense to leave Town. Then again, perhaps he had not yet heard that his beloved Miranda was dead. In which case, Emma thought, Edison might be able to find him before Basil Ware’s Bow Street Runner did.

  “Why the devil should I believe you this time?” Edison folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. He looked at One-Eared Harry with something less than enthusiasm.

  It was not the fact that Harry had recently sold him out to the Vanza fighter that annoyed Edison. He knew his old associate well enough to expect that sort of thing from time to time. What irritated him this afternoon was that Harry had just come from the docks. He had brought with him a great deal of mud and muck, which he had managed to deposit on the expensive Oriental carpet that covered the floor of the library.

  Harry had turned up on Edison’s doorstep within hours after the word had gone out that it was not only Bow Street who was looking for Lady Ames’s ex-servant. He shuffled his feet on the other side of the desk and had the grace to look abashed. “I know yer probably a bit put out by what ‘appened the other night. But I swear to ye again, Mr. Stokes, I never knew the bugger meant to kill ye. It was just a business deal, ye see.”

  “Of course.”

  “I knew ye’d understand.” Harry managed a weak, gap-toothed smile. I was just tryin’ to make a bit sellin’ information to two parties what seemed to ‘ave a mutual interest in each other. “Ow was I to know that cove meant to beat ye to a pulp?”

  “Forget it, Harry. I do not have any time to waste on your apologies, heartfelt though I’m sure they are.”

  “That they are, I swear it on me mother’s ‘onor.”

  “Well, I suppose that is a step up from your sister’s honor. Is she still making money hand over fist with that brothel she opened last year?”

  “Doin’ real well,” Harry assured him. “Thank ye for askin’ after ‘er. The whole family is right proud of Alice. Any’ow, I know I owe ye for pullin’ me outa the river. A man’s gotta repay a debt like that and that’s why I’m ‘ere.”

  “I assume you came in response to my inquiries?”

  “Right ye are. And there’ll be no charge for the information, which should tell ye I’m serious about gettin’ things square between us.”

  Edison was interested now. “What have you got for me?”

  “’Eard ye was looking for a cove named Swan what used to work for a dead lady.”

  “Well?”

  “I think I know where ‘e is,” Harry said earnestly. “Leastways, where ‘e was early this mornin. ‘“

  “And where was that?”

  “Down at the docks. ‘E was askin’ around for work. I didn’t think nothin’ of it at the time. Told ‘im I didn’t need any ‘ands. But later when I got word ye was lookin’ for ‘im, I tried to find ‘im again.”

  Edison’s instincts and experience told him that Harry was telling the truth this time. “Were you successful?”

  “Not exactly. But Moll at the Red Demon told me she saw ‘im later. She said ‘e looked real strange, sort of angry and sad at the same time. Swan told ‘er ‘e was leavin’ town right away. Something bad ‘ad ‘appened, ‘e said, and ‘e’d likely get the blame for it.”

  Edison frowned. “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No.” Harry turned his greasy cap between his fingers. “But ‘e did tell Moll that ‘e ‘ad to see a lady afore ‘e left.”

  Edison flattened his hands on the surface of his desk. “Did he mention a name?”

  “No. Just said a lady.”

  An ominous chill went through Edison. He got slowly to his feet.

  “Did he say why he had to see this lady before he left town?”

  “Moll told me Swan said somethin’ about ‘ow ‘e’d promised ‘imself that he wouldn’t risk ‘is neck for any other female ever again as long as ‘e lived but this one was different. She’d been nice to ‘im, ‘e said. And she was in danger.”

  Late that afternoon, having not had so much as a word from Edison, Emma retired to the privacy of her bed chamber to reread the letter that had arrived in the morning post. She did so with a mounting sense of unease. She knew her younger sister very well. Daphne was definitely on the brink of doing something rash.

  My Dearest Emma:

  Your latest letter tells me that you will soon have all the money we need. I pray you are correct because I vow I cannot remain here at Mrs. Osgood’s School for Young Ladies much longer.

  I must tell you, Mrs. Osgood grows odder by the day. You will never believe what happened last night. I was unable to sleep so I went downstairs to fetch a book. (Mrs. York’s latest horrid novel arrived yesterday and we have all been taking turns reading it aloud.

  As I went down the hall to the library, I noticed that the door was closed and I saw a gleam of light beneath it. I put my ear to the panel and heard the most peculiar noises. It sounded as though some wild animals had got inside and were rooting about among the books. The most dreadful grunts and groans issued forth. And then I heard a terrifying shriek. I feared that Mrs. Osgood was being murdered so I took my courage in both hands and opened the door.

  The sight that met my eyes was even more astonishing than the fireworks we saw two years ago at Vauxhall Gardens. Mr. Blankenship, a respectable widower who owns a farm in the neighborhood, was on the sofa. He was lying on top of Mrs. Osgood, if you can imagine. His trousers were down around his ankles and his very large, very bare backside was in the air. Mrs. Osgood’s equally bare legs were flung out on either side.

  Fortunately neither of them noticed me. You may be certain that I closed the door with great haste and rushed back upstairs. I must tell you, dear sister, that I suspect that what I witnessed, is what is known as lovemaking. If so, I fear that all the charming poetry and novels we have enjoyed and even Byron’s exciting tales have sadly misled us both. It was, I assure you, the most ridiculous sight ....

  Emma refolded the letter and looked out the window at the park on the other side of the street. She had not felt at all ridiculous in Edison’s arms, she thought wistfully. Those moments of passion in the carriage would warm her for the rest of her life.

  A brisk knock on her bed chamber door brought her out of her reverie.

  “Enter,” she called. The door opened. Bess, the maid, bobbed a brisk curtsy and held out a small slip of paper. “I’ve got a message for ye, ma’am. A boy brought it to the kitchen door a moment ago.”

  Excitement unfurled inside Emma. With any luck it would be news from Edison. Perhaps he had made some progress. She leaped to her feet and rushed across the room to seize the note.

  “Thank you, Bess.”

  She opened the paper and read the short, inelegantly scrawled message.
/>   Miss Greyson:

  Please come into the park. I must speak with you. You are in great danger.

  Yrs.

  Swan.

  “Good heavens.” Emma looked up. “I am going to take a walk in the park, Bess. If Mr. Stokes comes to call, kindly ask him to wait for me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Emma hurried past her through the doorway. She dashed downstairs, grabbed her bonnet off a hook, and let herself outside. She went down the steps, crossed the street between two lumbering hay carts and walked swiftly into the park. A crisp little breeze ruffled the leaves.

  She came to a halt when it occurred to her that she had no way of knowing where Swan was. She assumed that he was hiding in the nearby foliage. He had very likely been watching the house, she told herself. He would have seen her come down the steps a moment ago.

  “Miss Greyson.”

  She spun around at the sound of the rasping voice.

  “Swan.”

  She frowned at the sight of him standing in the shelter of a leafy tree. He was a sad picture. He no longer wore Miranda’s spectacular blue livery. Instead, he was attired in an old ragged shirt and a tattered coat and pants. He had a sack slung over one shoulder. She suspected that it contained all of his worldly possessions. It was obvious he had not shaved for several days. But it was the expression of despair in his eyes that wrung her heart.

  She went toward him quickly and stopped directly in front of him.

  Impulsively she put a hand on his stained sleeve. “Are you all right?”

  They’ve set a Runner on me, Miss Greyson.” Swan rubbed the back of his hand across his brow. “But I reckon I can stay out of his sight until I’m on the road north.”

  “Did you kill Miranda?”

  “God help me, I thought about it for a while after she sent me away.”

  Swan squeezed his eyes shut briefly. When he opened them a second later, his gaze was stark. “But I swear I did not do it. Someone else murdered her.”

  “I see.”

  “You were kind to me at Ware Castle, madam. You weren’t like the other ladies. You didn’t laugh at me or ask Miranda if you could borrow me for a night. That’s why I came to warn you, Miss Greyson.”

  “Warn me about what?”

  “You are in grave danger. You must believe me.”

  “Me?” Emma stared at him. “Why on earth would I be in danger?”

  Before Swan could reply, the bushes behind him rustled softly. He gave a startled gasp and whirled around. His pack slid off his shoulder and fell to the ground.

  Edison stepped out of the cover of a leafy copse. His eyes were cold and watchful.

  “Yes, Swan. Tell us why Miss Greyson is in danger.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I did not kill Miranda, I swear it.” Swan fell back a step. He put out a trembling hand as though to ward off the devil himself. “Please, you must believe me, sir. I’m no murderer. I don’t deserve to hang.”

  Emma gave Edison a repressive frown. Surely he could see that if he frightened Swan too much, they would learn nothing. Edison ignored her. He continued to pin Swan with a relentless stare that clearly intimidated the younger man.

  “You had what some would call an excellent motive, did you not?” he asked much too casually.

  They would get nowhere this way, Emma thought. She took a step forward, putting herself between Swan and Edison. “Mr. Stokes does believe you, Swan.” She glared at Edison. “Is that not true, sir?”

  Edison hesitated. Then he shrugged. “I’m willing to consider other possibilities. Convincing possibilities.”

  Swan did not look reassured. Emma slanted Edison a speaking glance before giving Swan another determined smile.

  “Mr. Stokes is going to find the real killer,” she said.

  Swan’s eyes widened. “He is?”

  “Yes, he is. Now you must help by answering his questions.”

  Edison kept his gaze fixed on Swan. “I did not ask you if you killed Miranda. I asked you why you think Miss Greyson is in danger.”

  “But that’s what I was trying to explain to her, sir.” Swan’s huge, grimy hands knotted and unknotted in a spasmodic manner. “I fear the same person who murdered Miranda will be after Miss Greyson next.”

  “But why would he want to kill me?” Emma demanded.

  Swan glanced briefly at her. “You misunderstand, ma’am. I don’t think he’ll want to murder you. At least not right off. I think he may try to use you somehow.”

  “Vastly reassuring,” Emma said dryly.

  “Bloody hell, man.” Edison caught Swan by the collar of his ragged shirt. “Who is after Miss Greyson?”

  That’s ju-just it, sir,” Swan stuttered desperately. “I don’t rightly know who he is. I only know that Miranda was afraid of him and now she’s dead and I th-think he wants to get his hands on Miss Greyson.”

  “Why?” Edison asked.

  Swan looked as though he might faint. The panic in his eyes was too much for Emma. She touched the hand that Edison had clamped around the young man’s collar.

  “Let him go, sir. Surely you can see that you are making him exceedingly anxious.”

  “I do not care about the state of his damned nerves. I want answers.”

  “Well, you will never get them this way.” Emma tightened her fingers around Edison’s arm. “For heaven’s sake, sir, you have him by the throat. I doubt if he can even breathe, let alone talk to you in this state. Release him. Then he will speak with us. Won’t you, Swan?”

  “Y-yes.” Swan did not take his frightened, wide-eyed gaze off Edison.

  Edison hesitated. Then, with a disgusted twist of his mouth, he took his hand away from Swan’s collar. “Very well, you are free. Talk. And be bloody quick about it.”

  Emma smiled reassuringly at Swan. “It will be easier if you start at the beginning. Tell us about Miranda.”

  Swan blinked several times and then dragged his eyes away from Edison. He looked at Emma. “What is there to tell? I was foolish enough to think that she loved me. Me, her footman, no less.” He wiped his brow with the back of his big fist. “When I look back on the time with her now, it is as though I see myself in a terrible dream.”

  “When did you first meet her?” Emma asked gently.

  “At the beginning of the Season. When she arrived in town she had no staff of any sort. She hired an entire house full of servants from an agency. I was one of them.” Swan sighed. “I aspired only to work in the kitchens or gardens. I was astounded when she gave me a fine suit of livery and told me that I would be her personal footman.”

  “How long did it take you to go from footman to lover?” Edison asked bluntly.

  “Not long.” Swan looked down at the toes of his battered boots. “I think I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. She was so beautiful. I only wanted to serve her. When she invited me into her bed I thought I was in heaven with an angel.”

  “I would have said she had more in common with a witch,” Edison remarked.

  Swan did not look up. “You have the right of it, sir. But I did not see that until much later. It took me a long time to realize that the only reason she favored me was because I amused her. Rather like a pet spaniel, if you see.”

  “Oh, Swan,” Emma whispered.

  He raised his eyes to meet hers. “She only wanted me in her bed when she was bored with her fine gentlemen lovers. I should have known better than to fall in love with a lady.”

  “Oh, Swan,” Emma said again. “Those of us in service must be so cautious about that sort of thing.”

  Edison gave her an irritated look and then turned on Swan. “Let us move on to more important matters than the state of your heart. How did you discover that Miranda was once an actress?”

  Swan looked genuinely startled. “You know about her career on the stage?”

  “A little,” Edison said. Tell us what you know of it.”

  “There is not much to tell,” Swan said. “I
don’t think she intended anyone to know about it. But one night after she came home from a ball, she was in a strange mood. She had had a great deal of champagne. She talked a lot about what fools the members of the Polite World were. How easy it was to pull the wool over their stupid eyes.”

  “Is that when she told you that she had once been an actress?” Emma asked.

  “Not exactly.” Swan blushed. “First she wanted me to make love to her. Right there in her library. On top of her desk, if you can believe it.”

  Emma stared at him. “On the desk?”

  The better sort get odd notions at times,” Swan explained.

  “Yes, but a desk?”

  “Once she insisted that we do it on the stairs,” Swan confided, turning a deeper shade of crimson.

  “Good heavens.”

  “It was bloody uncomfortable,” Swan admitted.

  “I can imagine. All those hard steps. I mean, how could one possibly—”

  “We seem to be straying from the topic,” Edison interrupted grimly.

  “What happened after the, uh, incident on the desk. Swan?”

  “Like I said, she was in an odd mood that night. She wanted to talk to someone. She had her fine gentlemen lovers and all her fancy friends, you see, but I think she was lonely.”

  “Lonely like a spider waiting for prey,” Edison muttered.

  Emma gave him another quelling glance. “Go on, Swan.”

  “She told me she’d once been a great actress. She talked a lot about how everyone loved her when she was on stage. She told me that there was nothing to compare to the feeling she got when the audience broke into a frenzy of applause. Then she unlocked a drawer in the desk and showed me a box full of old playbills and reviews.”

  “Did she tell you how she made the transition from actress to lady of the ton?” Emma asked.

  Swan hesitated, brow furrowing in thought. “It was all quite vague, really. But I got the impression that a wealthy gentleman fell in love with her and married her against his family’s wishes. They went to live in Scotland because his father cut him off without a penny. But later, after his parents died, he came into his inheritance.”