February 4, 1889 Evening #2
“More or less. Lucky for them, my profession does come in handy—when they decide to acknowledge it, that is.”
“You know, I keep forgetting that you are a Sherard,” Liza said, taking the final trick.
“That’s the aim. Could prove useful to remain inconspicuous for this particular investigation,” Byron said. “They asked me to come up as soon as I can.”
Mira swallowed. “When are you leaving, then?”
He set his remaining cards on the table. “That depends on when you are able to get away from Swan Walk.”
She blinked, looking up at him. He gave her that devilish smile he always had when he thought himself particularly clever. “After all, what is a detective without his secretary?”
“Byron, you know we can’t use that excuse anymore.” She glanced over at her uncle.
“Yes, of course,” his expression softened. “You are much more than my secretary.”
A warmth bloomed in her chest and she smiled, averting her gaze.
Walker cleared his throat. “I highly doubt Uncle will allow it.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Liza said, a twinkle in her eye. “I think it all rests on how we present the idea.”
“It sounds like you have a thought.” Walker leaned closer.
“I do, although I’m not sure you’ll like it. It involves Aunt Eleanor.”
Walker let out a rush of air. “Oh goody.”
“My mother’s family is actually from Bath. When my grandparents died they left the house to Aunt Eleanor.”
Walker frowned. “If she’s got a house in Bath, what is she doing living with you and your parents?”
“Well, last year much of the city center was under construction due to the Roman ruins found near the Grand Pump Room.”
“Roman ruins?” Byron’s eyes widened. “That sounds fascinating.”
“I’m sure it will be. They are building a museum or something over top of it so people can see the ruins. But because of the construction, society is a little less, well, sociable. And Aunt Eleanor gets so lonely, I suppose she makes excuses to visit us.”
“I can understand that,” Mira said.
“She’s been talking about going back to take the waters,” Liza continued. “So I think it would take little to convince her and Mamma to go to Bath for a short holiday. And I do believe it would be appropriate to bring a small party with us.”
“Who would make up this sociable party?” Walker asked, a smile overtaking his features.
“The four of us, of course.” Liza picked up the stray cards, stacking and straightening the deck.
“We’ve been courting for several months now, Walker, and we haven’t seen much of each other in that time.
It would be a good opportunity for proper socialization, with the added benefit of making more room at Swan Walk while your aunt and uncle arrange everything for the move to Spenston Park. ”
“Why, Liza, that’s brilliant!” Mira laughed.
Liza tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I know. Shall I go and ask Mamma?”
“By all means,” Byron said.
“Wish me luck,” Liza grinned at them and moved toward the other conversation, discreetly brushing out her skirt.
Walker sighed. “I didn’t think I could love her more, but she keeps surprising me.”
“And to think, just a few months ago, you couldn’t stand her,” Mira teased.
“I think the poets were wrong. I think hate is much more blind than love.”
Based on the expression on Cyrus’ face, Liza’s proposition was taking well. The Renaldis were nodding, and soon Liza returned to the group.
“What’s the verdict, then?” Walker asked.
“They’ve agreed! Mamma wants to leave by the end of the week.”
***
The night air was brisk, the slim bit of moonlight sending silver through the trees as they returned to Swan Walk. Mira and Byron were a step or two behind the rest of the family, practically alone for the first time in weeks.
“Did you get a chance to read the letter?” she asked.
He gave a short nod. “It was illuminating, to say the least. She’s given us the full picture of how the Crescent operated within Circe.
It always bothered me that for all of Circe’s grand plans for war in Europe, a full third of their organization is devoted to petty theft.
While money is necessary for a large criminal organization like Circe, surely they’d get enough of it from the smuggling side of things. ”
“Yes, and it explains why Selene didn’t think she could truly be rid of Circe. There was always the looming threat of blackmail.” She shivered a little. “I feel so sorry for her. If what she said in the letter is true, she never wanted to betray us.”
“And yet, she did.” He reached over and took her hand. “And we were lucky to survive what happened in the catacombs.”
“She didn’t survive.” Mira swallowed. “She did exactly as Durant asked and still . . .”
“Selene shouldn’t have trusted him to keep his word.
She could have come to us at any time and she chose not to.
The fact that she decided to share what she knew in death atones for much, but doesn’t negate the fact that she put you in so much danger.
A danger that she herself was trying to escape. ”
“She didn’t realize that. People do terrible things when they feel they don’t have a choice.” Mira bit her lip. “I think she was a good person, deep down. But even good people act wrongfully out of fear.”
Byron softened. “You’re right. And she did do the right thing in the end by sending us that list. I recognized both gangs and one of the individual names.
The Forty Elephants operates in London, for the most part.
Primarily made up of women whose husbands are in prison, their main crime is shoplifting.
The Lambeth Lads are another London-based gang.
They are mostly young men and boys with a more violent streak.
I’ve worked with them in the past to gather information. ”
“And the name?”
“Terrence Wheeler. He moves around a lot because he’s a rag-and-bone man. Easy to recognize him, though, he wears a special pair of shoes made with one sole built up to a platform to compensate for one leg being much shorter than the other.
Her mouth dropped open. “I think I’ve seen him before! I always wondered who his cobbler was.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have that name,” he teased.
“And I don’t recognize the other nine on Selene’s list.” He released her hand and pulled out a small notebook and flicked it open.
“Henry Mayhew, Joseph Carney, Norine Askew, Jonathan Wallace . . . I wish she’d given an indication as to what industry they were in or their addresses or something.
” He tucked the book away. “But we have names, at least, and that’s as good a start as any. ”
She looked away. “I don’t think I’ve properly apologized for earlier. I was so excited about the prospect of new leads, I didn’t think of anything else.”
Byron laughed a little. “I will say I was surprised. You looked like a fox that escaped from the hunt only to rush headlong into the hounds.”
“I felt like one.” Her stomach twisted.
“Your transformation between then and the party was incredible,” he said. “I didn’t have the chance to tell you before, but you are absolutely stunning tonight.”
“You would say that no matter what I looked like.”
“True. I did like the way your hair fell around your face when you rushed into Palace Court. And I haven’t seen your blush in quite some time. Is that why you chose a rose-colored gown for this evening?”
She fidgeted with the buttons on her coat. “It was the first one I found. Truth be told, it’s a miracle I made it to the party on time.”
“But you did. And with only one hair out of place.” He reached over, tucking the strand behind her ear. “There.”
They walked a few paces in silence, the gas lamps flickering.
She whispered, “I can’t imagine what your family must think of me.”
He took her arm, slowing her to a stop. “Does it matter?”
“Of course, it matters. They are your family. If . . . if we are to . . . well, we are courting and that generally, well . . .”
“Leads to marriage? Yes, I have considered the notion.”
Her heart raced. They hadn’t discussed it candidly yet, but she had hoped she hadn’t been wrong about his intentions. Yet, there was still the matter of his family.
“I don’t want to be a disappointment,” she said, her chest tightening. She looked away.
He stood there, silent for a few moments.
“You will never be a disappointment to me. And if you are to my family, it is only because I was a disappointment first,” he said. “I told you how upset they were at my becoming a detective.”
“But they are your family.” She looked up at him. “I wanted so much to make a good impression.”
He took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “You’ll have another chance.”
They started down the pavement again. A question burned on her tongue, but she was afraid of the answer. As they turned down the street before Swan Walk, she found some courage. “Did . . . did they say anything after I left?”
“Oh, a good deal of things. Are you sure you want to know?”
She wasn’t sure if she did, but she nodded just the same.
“There was some question about what sort of girl would run about London in such a state, why you had a key to my rooms. That sort of thing. The main discussion topic was how long we had been courting, what sort of family you had, and what my intentions were.”
“Oh.”
They reached the steps of Swan Walk and he lifted her hand to his lips.
“You needn’t worry,” he said, his blue eyes soft. “They’ll come around.” He tipped his hat, stepping away. She reached out, holding him back.
“And if they don’t?”
His smile dipped by a fraction. “I’ve left the name Sherard behind before.”