Chapter Thirty
E dith was quite taken aback by Lord Harbury’s behavior as he had never been anything but scrupulously polite to her.
“I’ll be in contact if I find out any further information about our Mrs. Stafford.” Lord Wycliffe bowed and exited the library.
“Are you all right?” Louisa asked once Lord Wycliffe was gone.
Edith felt a weight descend upon her shoulders. “I think I’ve hurt Lord Harbury.”
“I always thought there was more to the baron than his jovial behavior.” Louisa sighed. “He had some horrible experiences during the war, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he feels some guilt over surviving the sinking of the St. George .”
Instead of talking to the baron to offer comfort, Edith had observed him like an experiment.
“I need to apologize to Lord Harbury. And I will. I’ll give him time to calm down and then beg his forgiveness.” She stood up as resolve flowed through her. “Shall we return to Hanover Square? We need to find out how to get on those hulks. I wonder if Diana knows anything helpful about our fake Mrs. Stafford. I’ll send her a letter once we return home.”
Louisa nodded. “If we can locate Mrs. Stafford, perhaps we can find our veterans. I don’t imagine she will return to the registry office if she knows we visited the address she provided.”
“Do you think she knows we were in King Street?”
“I would be surprised if she doesn’t. Like Lord Wycliffe, she might have contacts around Town, especially if she is affiliated with the RA.”
Edith considered the whereabouts of Mrs. Stafford on the way home in her father’s carriage. She didn’t want to think about Lord Harbury. Edith must apologize for her behavior; the knowledge that she had hurt the baron could not be borne.
Her father was not at home. She was glad to be reasonably sure Lady Sandhurst was not involved with the missing veterans. Edith shouldn’t be relieved that he was preoccupied with the lady so much that he wasn’t fully aware of her activities, but it did allow her and Louisa to do some more investigating.
As Diana was no longer in London, the letter Edith wrote the lady might not be answered for several days. Comfortably seated in the drawing room after penning the missive, she felt restless.
In an instant, an idea came to her. “Louisa, I know how we can board those hulks.”
Her friend looked up from the periodical she’d been reading. “Do tell!”
“You pretend to be my maid, and I inform the guards you’re looking for your brother.”
“Me?” Louisa frowned darkly. “A maid?”
Edith studied her friend. “If you don a maid’s uniform and speak very little, it could work.”
“You want us to go onto the hulks alone?” Louisa asked.
She thought a moment. “Either Lord Harbury or Lord Wycliffe could disguise themself as my driver and be our escort onto the ship.”
“Why can’t you be the maid?” Louisa frowned.
“If you’re recognized, your brothers are well known in Town, and someone might wonder why they didn’t accompany their sister on such an errand.”
Louisa replied, “You do make a good point. We must speak with Lord Harbury and Lord Wycliffe about your plan.”
She grimaced, remembering the last words the baron had said to her.
“Don’t fret about Lord Harbury. After all, he has to see that you were concerned about him.” Louisa added gently, “I believe the baron is a very forgiving person. I’m sure he is no longer angry with you.”
Edith was surprised at Louisa's empathetic response and hoped her friend was right.
“Just give him a day or two.” Louisa patted her hand. “And I think your plan to gain access to the prison hulks is brilliant.”
A moment later, the butler announced a visitor.
“Miss Alicia Tilford.”
She was relieved to be distracted from her thoughts about the baron. “Alicia! What a pleasant surprise! May I offer refreshment?”
“No, thank you.” Alicia took a seat on a stuffed chair. “On the way home from Lady Kettering’s tea, I realized I knew something about Mrs. Stafford that might be helpful.”
“What is it?” Edith sat forward in her chair.
“I was given a tour of the registry before it opened, and I overheard Lady Diana speaking about Mrs. Stafford’s reference. She only had one job while her husband was in the Navy. If she was telling the truth.”
Edith shrugged. “We all met her. Not one of us was suspicious.”
“How does that help us find her?” Louisa asked.
“That’s just it,” Alicia replied. “What if Mrs. Stafford gave Diana a real reference? If she did, we might be able to find her.”
“Do you remember the reference, Alicia?” she asked excitedly.
The girl nodded. “St. Mary the Virgin Church, Mortlake. Mrs. Stafford had been the parish secretary.”
And with those words, Edith knew what she had to do next.
* * * * *
N athaniel walked along Berkeley Square and turned onto Basil Street. As he walked, he felt his pulse slow, and his shoulders relax. Although he was disappointed that the only interest Lady Edith had in him was to observe his moods, he was no longer angry with her, Alicia, or the rest of his friends.
The task at hand deserved his full attention. Their Mrs. Stafford was an imposter. Diana and Cecil had investigated her before she was offered the job at the registry, which led him to believe that at least some of the information she had provided Diana might just be true.
If the woman was indeed a war widow, she could be connected to the tragedy of the HMS St. George . A connection to Lt. Cooper, no matter how tenuous, was another avenue to explore.
Perhaps she had used a false identity for some time. Nathaniel would look into any references she’d provided.
He’d walked several blocks and was now in the borough of Mortlake . A carriage rolled by, the driver on the box wearing black and red livery. Nathaniel spotted a hackney carriage and raised a hand.
“My lord?” The driver doffed his tall black hat.
“Follow that coach just there, but not too closely. If it stops, continue driving several yards.”
“Yes, my lord.”
It was late afternoon, and the sky had darkened with clouds. Hopefully the rain would hold off until Nathaniel reached his destination, wherever it might be.
They passed through Mortlake, an area he wasn’t too familiar with. Through the window of his conveyance, he watched the black carriage pull into a churchyard. The hackney came to a halt a moment later.
Nathaniel tossed the driver a guinea when he exited the coach. “Do you know who Lord Wycliffe is?”
The man whistled. “Who doesn’t, my lord?”
“If you fetch him, there’s a gold crown in it for you.” He held up the coin for the man to see.
“Say no more, my lord.”
Nathaniel turned to walk to the churchyard as the coach rumbled away. He planned to only get close enough to the black carriage to observe what he could from a safe distance and wait for Cecil’s help.
There was nobody in or near the carriage. As he turned to walk back the way he came, he heard a muffled shout and then another.
“Help! Help!”
The shouting was coming from somewhere in the churchyard. The sky darkened further, and the heavens opened. Nathaniel walked toward the muted calls for aid, a hand over his eyes to stave off the rain. The downpour became so heavy that it was difficult to determine where the calls for help had come from. An enormous stone mausoleum loomed before him; he couldn’t hear anything except the rain. He stepped through the open iron gate leading to the mausoleum, and something hit him from behind.
Nathaniel fell forward, blackness overtaking him.