Chapter Nine
M itchell escorted Corrine to her residence. After assisting her from the carriage, he passed her the wrapped loaf of bread.
“I will come around in about three days. Hopefully, I will have further information regarding the baron,” Mitchell said.
“Thank you. I enjoyed our luncheon. And thank you for suggesting I assist Doctor Hornsby. Next time I see him, I shall ask if he could use my help at one of the free clinics one day a week as well.”
“I’m sure he would appreciate that. Goodbye, Corrine.”
Turning the key in the lock, she entered the front hall, where Thomason stood at attention. “You have a guest, my lady. The Honorable Jeffery Edgeworth. He awaits you in the sitting room. I was about to bring him sandwiches and tea. Shall I bring dishes and utensils for you as well?”
“Just a cup, thank you, Thomason.”
Removing the veil, she stepped across the threshold of the sitting room. “Jeffery? What brings you here?”
Her younger brother stood and faced her. “To see if you are still living,” he replied sardonically. “Father and I haven’t seen you in weeks. Why are you wearing your nurse’s uniform?”
“I am assisting a doctor to treat those in need in the East End. Spitalfields, to be exact.”
“I am rather surprised to hear it. I would have thought you had had enough of nursing the indigent.” Jeffery looked about the room. “What is going on, and where is Addington? At his office?”
Corrine winced inwardly. Her brother knew of an office, and she did not? She removed her cloak, tossed it on the sofa, and sat beside it. “Why do you ask about Travis? Do you want to speak to him?”
Jeffery shrugged. “No. I just thought he’d be here.”
“Please sit, Jeffery. And what office are you talking about?”
Her brother sat in the wing chair facing her. “I have no idea where his office is located. I simply assumed he has one, since he is a consulting engineer for the London and South Western Railway. At least, that is what he told Father when he came to ask permission to offer for you. Though why he asked seemed odd—you were well past the age of consent.”
Corrine blinked rapidly. “Maybe because Travis is an honorable gentleman? But really—Travis came to see Father? When?”
“Sister, you’ve gone as white as a sheet. Are you telling me you knew none of this, including his occupation?”
The footman entered with the tray and placed it between them.
“That will be all, Jonathan. Close the door behind you, if you please,” Corrine murmured tonelessly. The footman departed, and Jeffery immediately piled his plate high with sandwiches.
Corrine poured the tea, her hand shaking. “Now, as for Travis, he is at his previous residence in Camden Town. In fact, the baron has been there for some weeks. We are—separated. And no, I knew nothing of him coming to see Father or that he had any occupation at all.”
“What have you done to chase him away?” her brother asked between chewing his ham sandwiches.
Corrine slammed the china teapot on the tray, the cover rattling precariously. “Of course, if there is any disharmony in a marriage, it must be the woman’s fault. He is the one who left, and I will not be discussing what happened with anyone, including you. It is my private business. Travis is a veritable stranger. I married him to save our family from financial collapse. You have no idea how close we were to complete ruin.”
Jeffery reached for the cup of tea she poured. “I’ve no idea because you have never said. Ever.”
“You have just turned twenty-three and have only been employed at the bank for over a year. I didn’t tell you earlier because you were too young to be of any assistance. And our viscount father?” Corrine exhaled. “He was oblivious. Trying to make him understand we had no money was a daily chore, but he continued to open accounts and purchase items on credit. He is a viscount. What company or retail store would refuse him? I’d no sooner pay off one debt than I’d discover another. And God forbid he buy useful items like food, medicine, or clothing. Father purchased paintings, bottles of French brandy, expensive suits, and—” Corrine shook her head. “I should not be speaking ill of Father. He tried, in his insensible way.”
Jeffery frowned. “I had no idea. I am sorry, Corri.”
Corrine raised a dubious eyebrow. “No idea? Hadn’t you noticed the servants leaving and not being replaced over the years? Items disappearing because I had to sell them? Why I labored as a nurse all those years while you and Father waltzed through life without a care in the world?” It was challenging to keep the annoyance from her voice.
“Our hardship was not discussed in the open, so how would I know? But that is no excuse. I should have taken more of an interest. I was ignorant of our dire situation because our father spoiled me rotten. I know that now. You paid for my university, didn’t you?”
Yes, Jeffery had been pampered as the only son and heir would be, but more so after their mother died. “I did. It certainly wasn’t our father. I sold the train painting by Joseph Turner for a few hundred pounds. That paid for most of it.”
Jeffery shook his head. “I wondered where it went but didn’t care enough to ask. How bad was—or are—our finances?”
Corrine took a fortifying gulp of tepid tea. “In ’69, the Debtors Act limited the ability of the courts to throw people in debtors’ prison. But the courts can still do it if they deem a person has the means to pay but doesn’t, or if the person defaults. Believe me, I researched this. I had to. When Travis approached me, we were about to default, which meant Father—and us as well—could have been incarcerated for up to six weeks. Or longer. We would have lost our hard-won positions. Shame would cover this family, one we would never recover from—financially or socially. I made a snap decision, and I’m not sorry I did so.”
Her brother’s mouth dropped open briefly in shock. “My God, Corri. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.”
“No,” Corrine replied sadly. “There was nothing to be done. What little money I managed to save, I hid away. When Father found it, he bought stock in a failed automobile company last year. That put us behind again, and I could never catch up. I was just so weary of it all. I also needed to get away from Father before I did or said something I would regret. Travis Addington offered me a lifeline. I took it.”
Jeffery shook his head sadly. “You sold yourself. For us. I will never forgive myself for being such a feckless lad. I went to our father and asked for new clothes, books, and the like because I thought we had a little money. I mean, I knew we weren’t wealthy, or why else would you be working? But he led me to believe we were at least comfortable. I had no inkling the finances all rested with you. Dash it all, I am sorry.”
Corrine sipped her tea. “I paid all the outstanding bills once I received my marriage settlement. At least, the ones I was aware of. I told Father not to open any more accounts and buy frivolous items.” Corrine placed her cup on the table and strode to the desk. Opening the drawer, she grabbed a fistful of invoices. “I pay a stipend to both of you every month. These are Father’s recent bills. He sent them to me yesterday with a note claiming he has no money to pay them.” Her voice raised in distress with each sentence. “Granted, they are not large bills, but bills nonetheless. Father has not heeded my directions at all.”
Jeffery shot to his feet and rushed to her side. “Give them to me,” he said gently, taking the papers from her. “I will deal with Father. I will personally go around to these places and close his accounts, then demand they do not give credit to him any longer. I will take over the finances of the viscountcy. You have my word. I will take firm control of this.” Jeffery gathered up the invoices. “Going forward, I will ensure Father lives within the means you have generously provided.”
Corrine threw her arms around her brother’s neck. It was such a relief to unburden it all, and she was thankful he would take over dealing with their father.
Jeffery held her close and patted her back. “There, dear sister. All will be well. Come and sit and have more tea. It’s surprising how comforting tea can be.” He assisted her to the sofa and then sat across from her, placing the pile of outstanding bills in front of him. Her brother had grown into a fine man, tall and handsome, with light brown hair and eyes. He had some threads of auburn in his hair, but she had more.
“Now, what will you do about Addington?” Jeffery asked.
“I’m not certain. Try and salvage this unfortunate start, perhaps? See if the rift can be repaired. Or do I obtain a divorce?”
Jeffery grabbed a sandwich wedge from the plate. “And is the crippled man who escorted you home the reason you are contemplating divorce?” her brother asked quietly.
Corrine glared at her brother. “You watched through the window.”
“Yes. Your parting appeared—intimate.”
“First, I cannot abide that word—crippled. I never liked it. The man is Detective Sergeant Mitchell Simpson, and he was heroically injured in the line of duty. He is on medical leave while he recovers the use of his leg. I met him through mutual acquaintances. And if you mean we acted friendly, I suppose it was intimate. I consider Mitchell a friend. That is all.”
“No need to become annoyed. I’m merely worried for you. The word you dislike has been around since the 10 th century. See? My train painting education was good for something.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Corrine’s mouth. She never could stay annoyed at Jeffery for long. “Nevertheless. Apart from that, it is none of your concern who I’m friends with or how I spend my time.”
“Forgive me for prodding in your life, but I’ve missed you these past months. I was and am concerned. I do not want gossip hounding your every step. Especially when it becomes known that Addington is living elsewhere. You know how the tattle spreads and how vicious it can be.” Jeffery stood, then gathered up the pile of invoices. “I meant what I said, Corri. I will take on this responsibility for Father. Will you come and see us soon?”
Corrine placed her cup on the saucer and stood. “No. I cannot. Not for a while. If I come face-to-face with our father, I will lose my temper. I love him; he is my father, after all. But it’s best I stay away from him for now.”
Jeffery strode toward her and then affectionately kissed her cheek. “I understand. But let us keep in touch.”
“How about we meet for luncheon? I know just the restaurant. I will send the particulars to you at the bank. Is that all right?”
“More than all right. Goodbye, Corri. Be well.”
Corrine walked him to the sitting room entrance and watched as Thomason escorted her brother to the front door.
“Shall I take the tray away, my lady?”
“No, thank you.”
“You have some correspondence, my lady. I placed it on the desk.”
“Thank you, Thomason.” Corrine closed the door and then strolled toward the desk. She sat and, taking the letter opener, slid it under the seal. The note was from Althea Galway-Cranston, the newly married duchess and co-owner of the Galway Investigative Agency.
Good day Corrine,
We have an assignment for you! Our client, The Duke of Barnsdale, is convinced his much younger wife is having an affair. The Duchess will be attending an afternoon tea charity fundraiser at the home of the Duchess of Gransford. I contacted Doctor Drew Hornsby since the Duchess of Gransford is his aunt, and he checked with the guest list. You were already sent an invitation. Let us know if you can attend. We ask that you observe and gather any information as subtly as possible.
Wait. The Duchess of Barnsdale? Selena Seaton? Corrine had read of the marriage in the paper. How long ago? Eight years or more? Corrine had attended Miss Langston’s Finishing School for Girls with Selena. They had been close. However, when Corrine’s mother died, Corrine had no choice but to leave school and had lost all contact with her friends.
Corrine opened the desk drawer on her left and pulled out a handful of unopened correspondence. Since the upheaval with Travis, she had not bothered to read any of these invitations, let alone reply to them. She rifled through the pile until she located the one in question. After opening it, she quickly read it. The tea would take place five days from today.
Pulling out a pen and stationery and uncapping the ink bottle, she hastily scribbled a reply to the tea invitation, saying she would be pleased to attend. Then she wrote one to Althea, letting her know that she’d accepted the invitation to the tea and would discover what she could.
It had been several weeks since Corrine had attended a social function, not since the tea party at the Duchess of Watford’s residence. Other than her brother, she hadn’t had any callers either. That had to change.
Wait. She’d forgotten about the strange man in the cloak looking for Travis. Corrine placed her hand on her forehead. She had been so upset over her conversation with Travis that all thoughts of that man had left her mind. So much for her investigative skills—or lack thereof. The next time she saw Mitchell, she would inform him of the short but bizarre happenstance. In the meantime, the prospect of an investigative assignment filled her with excitement. It was time she started moving on with her life.
*
After several days of lurking about Camden Town, Jedidiah Danaher was no further ahead in discovering where Addington lived. Although he preferred to keep the world at large believing his demise, he’d have to come out of the shadows to discover more about the new baron and the barony itself. And he’d need help.
Jedi had just the person in mind: William Buckingham, the Earl of Darrington. Billy Buck, as those in Jedi’s criminal circle called the sly earl, had his fingers in numerous illegal schemes. He and Jedi had done business together many times, and as recently as five months ago. Besides smuggling in hard-to-get cheap French wine, he also ran a profitable thieving ring. These unlawful acts funded his aristocratic lifestyle and that of his pampered arse of a son, Troy Buckingham, Viscount Shinwell.
Having full knowledge of Darrington’s vices and predilections, Jedi waited outside the La Fleur Blanche , called such after the famous Paris brothel of the same name. It was nowhere near as lavishly decorated as the one in Paris, but all the workers came from France. Its location in Hampstead was close to a posh flat Darrington rented, where he coordinated his illegitimate business and no doubt entertained his hired ladies. Standing in the alley, Jedi watched the comings and goings.
Darrington’s corpulent form was not easy to miss. There the man stood, puffing on a cigar, looking satiated and arrogant. He was looking around for a hansom cab when Jedi grabbed his arm. “Come with me, Billy Buck. We have much to discuss.”
Darrington’s eyes darted about, as if to make sure no one heard the name. Once in the alley’s shadows, Jedi pulled the hood down and faced the earl.
“You! Miserable wretch, you are supposed to be dead, burnt to a cinder! By Jove, you have the luck of the very devil.”
“Maybe it is the devil’s luck. But no one is to know I’m alive. Not yet. You follow? Speak of it to anyone, and I will tear those ample guts from your body and place them around your corpse for the rats to feast on.”
Darrington clutched his walking stick and tapped Jedi none-to-gently on the chest. “Stop with the threats, for they are useless against me. We’ve done business for years. Why would I jeopardize that? Speak sense. You’re reclaiming your foothold in Notting Dale, are you not? I have several items to shift, and you have always been the best man for the job.”
“Eventually. But I’ve other business to attend to first. I need you to find out some information for me.”
“Hmm. Like what?”
“I want to know everything there is to know about the new Baron Addington. I also want a history of the barony, financial and otherwise, and anything you can tell me about the previous baron as well.”
The earl scoffed. “You aren’t asking for much. That will take some doing. How do I get word to you?”
“You don’t,” Jedi snapped.
“Very well. Come to my apartment here in Hampstead in ten days. You’ve been there before. Come under the cover of night, mind. Let us say, nine of the clock. Now, let me pass.”
Jedi stepped aside, and Darrington stopped in front of him. “I advise you not to stay dead for long, or I will take my business to Lucian Sharpe in what is left of the Devil’s Acre.” Darrington gave him a smug smile. “They will be clearing out the remaining nest of vipers within the next year. Same with your rookery in Notting Dale. Clearances are coming. There soon will be no place left for you scurvy lot to do business. Shame, that.” Darrington laughed as he exited the alley.
Lucian Sharpe.
He was younger than Jedi but just as ruthless. They were rivals but stayed out of each other’s business and territory. But if things became more difficult… Well, he’d deal with that when the time came.
First things first. To find out about the barony.
And collect what he was owed. By whatever means necessary.