Chapter 3
3
CHAPTER 3
C assandra hoped the ladies gathered in the sitting room of Number Five attributed her quiet smile to her amusement at the shameless way they all flirted with London’s most sought-after chef, Nathaniel Charpentier, the only gentleman in the room. Their efforts were wasted on him, and they knew it, but that did not stop them. Not only were they all happily married, but Mister Charpentier was the devoted lover and companion of Lionel Carrington-Bowles of whom the ladies were also inordinately fond.
She would not disavow them of the notion of her amusement. Her smile, however, had nothing to do with their antics. Her night with Derek had been the most incredible of her life. In spite of awakening alone in her bed, Cassandra fully intended to hold on to every moment in his arms as long as she could. Each time thoughts of the impossibility of it all and the realization another such night was not only irresponsible, but nigh onto madness to even consider, she pushed those notions aside. At least for today, she wanted to bask in the glow of his lips on hers, his hands on her body, his body joined to hers.
She would hold that sense of impending doom at bay for just one more day. Events were unraveling at a blinding pace. The saga of the blackmailer and the murderess mistress was about to come to an end. She sensed it as surely as the coming of Christmas. But unlike Christmas, there would be no light in this story, only darkness.
“I hope Lionel and I did not overstep in making these arrangements,” Mister Charpentier said, as he sat down on the sofa next to her.
“On the contrary,” she said as she gathered her thoughts, folded her hands in her lap, and gave him her full attention. “I appreciate your efforts to keep us all safe. If you think these measures are necessary then—”
“We do.” He covered one of her hands with his. He was a strikingly handsome young man, but his sincere concern and the kindness he radiated was more powerful still. “Until we discover who is behind these letters and threats, Col and Captain El feel it is best if all food coming into any of our households comes through my suppliers to Club Ambrosios.”
“You are certain your suppliers cannot be bribed to do something like the deed that ended Mister Shell’s life?” She’d never considered someone might try to poison the earl’s former mistresses or his friends or even the earl himself. Now the idea was presented to her, Cassandra added death by oleander or worse to the list of fears guaranteed to keep her awake at night.
Mister Charpentier snorted. “I provide my suppliers with entirely too much business between the club and my catering services for them to even consider crossing me. I pay them fairly and I treat them with respect, something money cannot buy. And I have a secret weapon.”
“A secret weapon? I am intrigued.” He was trying to allay her fears and she appreciated his efforts. The other ladies began to wander over to the seating arrangement before the fire to join her and the chef.
He leaned close and raised an eyebrow in an exaggerated gesture. “I have in my kitchens at Club Ambrosios a pastry chef from France. Henri is likely three days older than God, doesn’t hear well and can hardly see, but his is the most discerning nose in England. He can detect mold on bread three days before it appears. Presented with any dish he can detect what has been left out and what has been added. I trust him implicitly.”
“Archer Colwyn said this Henri detected something in the half-eaten pastie before Carrington-Bowles even started the autopsy.” Lady Jane Trevellyn, now Lady Jane Forsythe since her marriage to the earl’s barrister friend, Stephen Forsythe, shuddered as she accepted a cup of tea from Lily Barker-Finch. “And it is a good thing too. Had dear Lionel touched those oleander seeds in that horrible man’s belly with his bare hands, he might have died.”
Cassandra squeezed Mister Charpentier’s hand. The poor man had gone slightly pale and very still at the mere mention of the danger his lover had faced in investigating the blackmailer’s death.
“Indeed,” Saida said, as she passed a plate of Charpentier’s famous macarons around to the other ladies. “Any part of the oleander plant is a deadly poison.”
Cassandra wanted to change the subject, if only a little. “Speaking of plants. Have you or Lady Jane discovered the origin of the scent on the most recent letter to the earl?”
“We have actually,” Saida replied. “It is an orchid. The Tolumnia triquetra . A lovely flower that would have to be grown in a hothouse here in England.”
“Is that information helpful?” Sophia Norcross asked. There are bound to be hothouses all over London alone.”
“True,” Lady Jane said. “However, this particular orchid would have to be brought into England by ship after being gathered by someone with a fair amount of expertise. Saida and I happen to have connections with a number of importers of exotic plants. If we find out who brought the orchid into England, we may well find out in whose hothouse it grows.”
“And would these importers be located on the docks, say in the area of Limehouse?” Cassandra asked. She did not like where this conversation might lead, and the earl would likely go mad if these ladies were considering what she thought they were considering.
“Now you’ve done it,” Adrienne said, as she peered over her teacup with a knowing smile. “You’ve awakened our governess who will tell us why we must allow our husbands to have all of the fun.”
“I would hardly call investigating blackmail and murder fun , Missus Lassen. Even for a lady married to a pirate’s mate like your Obadiah.” Mister Charpentier exchanged a glance with Cassandra. They both knew from experience that these ladies were the least likely to sit and wait for their men to rescue them. She had thought their marriages would settle them. Not a chance.
“Do you intend to carry tales to our husbands, Mister Charpentier?” Trust Lily to cut straight to the heart of the matter.
“Given my present situation, one could hardly expect me to confess to such a deed, could one, Missus Barker-Finch? Like you lovely ladies I am far more than a pretty face.” They all laughed, just as he’d intended. Cassandra shook her head. “However,” he continued. “Might I suggest if any of you intend to explore the warehouses of Limehouse in search of exotic plants you take a number of the Rutherford brothers and perhaps a chef in search of flowers for a dinner party he may or may not be catering?”
The room went silent for a brief moment and then rumbled into several conversations at once as the ladies discussed Mister Charpentier’s offer.
“You are a busy man,” Cassandra observed. “Are you certain you have time to chase after Saida and Lady Jane? Not to mention should something happen to you Mister Carrington-Bowles is liable to commit murder.”
“I know what it is like to be threatened by a blackmailer, to live in constant fear of what might happen next. When I met Lionel, I had not one, but two men making my life a misery. If I can spare someone else the uncertainty of such undeserved abuse, I will do so. Because Lionel and his friends saved me.”
“Are you so certain this abuse is undeserved?” Cassandra asked. “What if one of these ladies is a murderess and is using the earl, the other ladies, and all of you to keep her actions hidden, to avoid paying for what she has done?”
He stared at her, his expression a combination of surprise and a sad sort of knowledge. “Do you know who the murderess is? Do you believe any of these ladies capable of such an act?”
“If I knew I would not tell you. I was charged with taking care of these ladies. Nothing has changed since their marriages, at least not where the earl and I are concerned. They and their secrets are still mine to protect.”
He rose gracefully to his feet, took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I would expect nothing less of you, Missus Collins. I promise to see them safely to Limehouse and back.” He turned to where the ladies had finally stopped chattering. They’d polished off the contents of the tea tray, and Saida and Lady Jane were donning their coats, brought to them by Young Rutherford who had been summoned during Cassandra’s conversation with Mister Charpentier.
“Mister Charpentier?” She touched his arm.
“Yes?”
“How did your situation end? With the two men who came after you?”
“One of them ended up dead and the other is confined to a madhouse in the north of England.” He gave her an over-bright smile. “So, you have nothing at all to worry about, do you? Ladies, shall we?” He, Saida, and Lady Jane swept out of the room with Young Rutherford close on their heels. She heard the voices of Tall Rutherford and Quick Rutherford in the foyer and in a few moments, all was quiet once more.
“Have you heard from Margot and Gabrielle?” Adrienne asked, as she refreshed everyone’s cup of tea.
Cassandra was not fooled by the sudden change of subject, but she decided to play along. “I have had a letter from Surrey this very morning,” she replied. “The house is lovely, but in sad need of redecorating and some improvements. The servants are delighted to have not one but two masters and mistresses to care for, and the little village nearby is quaint and friendly.” She gave the other ladies a genuine smile. “They are all so happy and send their love.”
For a moment they all basked in the notion of Margot and Gabrielle happy at last and the two gentlemen who had come to their rescue equally at peace. They would have to live more circumspect lives on their return to London, but for now they could all live and love as their hearts dictated rather than by the dictates of society. A sharp pang lodged behind Cassandra’s ribs at the realization society, for very different reasons, of course, would never allow her and Derek to be together.
“Will you write to them of Mister Shell’s death and the threatening letter the earl received at their wedding breakfast?” Sophia asked.
“Should I?” Cassandra had considered doing just that, but the thought of disturbing the two couples in their refuge away from the derision and prejudice of others left a bad taste in her mouth.
“There is no need.” Lily put down her teacup, her expression solemn and her voice strained. “Ari told me this morning that the Duke of Chelmsford sent word to John and Will. The messenger was one of the duke’s outriders but he went in the guise of delivering some foodstuffs and wedding gifts so as not to frighten Margot and Gabrielle.”
Adrienne rolled her eyes. “As if those two gents stand a chance against our friends. They’ll winkle the real reason for the man’s delivery out of John and Will before the outrider has left the estate.”
Cassandra joined them in laughing as she knew Adrienne had the right of it. “His Grace is much like the earl in that regard. His love for Captain El has made you all his to protect and defend, married or not.”
“Not just us, Missus Collins,” Sophia said. “You are under the earl’s protection as well.”
“Without a doubt,” Lily added. The three of them, the earl’s former mistresses, gazed at her with identical insinuating smiles.
“I am not being threatened. You are. The earl’s concern for me is…different.” This was not a conversation she wished to have, especially not with three ladies who knew the earl as intimately as Lily, Sophia, and Adrienne did. The twisting in her belly had nothing to do with jealousy. Not really. And she certainly did not want them to know what had transpired between her and Derek last night.
“You have never asked us.” Adrienne’s abrupt declaration dropped into the room like a ship’s bell on a starless night. Lily and Sophia stilled, and all three of them fixed their attention on Cassandra.
“Asked you?” Cassandra sipped her tea and struggled not to rattle her cup once she returned the delicate bone china to the saucer.
“You have never asked any of us if we have committed murder.” Lily glanced at Adrienne and Sophia and then pressed on. “Since this entire blackmail scheme and the threats and attacks, you have never once asked any of us to confess.”
She took a deep breath and clasped her hands in her lap. “If any of you wished me to know you would have told me. And had you told me in confidence it would not have mattered. I have always kept your confidences. I will not stop now.”
“Even if the earl asks you?” Sophia did not appear afraid, only concerned, and Cassandra expected that concern was not for herself, but for her fellow mistresses.
“He will never ask. He has his reasons, but he will never ask any of you about your pasts. You may trust my word on that subject.”
“Not even if that knowledge might help them to discover the identity of this mysterious woman who is so set on destroying one of us?” Adrienne was never one to mince words. She adored her husband, Obadiah, but she had been Derek’s first mistress after the death of Celeste. Her loyalty to him was fierce.
“Not even then.” Cassandra saw where this was going. That sense of impending disaster tickled at the back of her neck. “The only way the earl or Mister Colwyn of Bow Street will discover if any of you ladies is a murderess is if one of your number should decide to confess.”
“Do you think any of us is capable of murder, Missus Collins?” Lily Venable Barker-Finch was a talented actress, but there was no artifice in her in this moment. Her question was a sincere one and deserved a sincere answer.
“In the right circumstances, I daresay any of us is capable of murder, Lily, dear.” Cassandra picked up her teacup with care and hoped the grip she had on the handle did not break the delicate china. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Adrienne snorted. “I love Obadiah with all my heart, but there are days…” Lily and Sophia joined her in hearty laughter which made Cassandra smile in spite of herself.
“Very well,” Sophia said. “Foregoing one of us confessing, how do we propose to help in solving this mystery? We cannot leave it to the men alone. Saida and Lady Jane are doing their part. What can we do?”
“Without our husbands and the earl finding out?” Adrienne asked with a wicked grin. “A great deal, I should think.”
This did not bode well. The last time the mistresses involved themselves in trying to discover the identity of their blackmailer utter chaos ensued, at a Cyprian Ball, no less. “I truly think things are serious enough at this point that we need to leave it to Mister Forsythe and Mister Colwyn. They are the experts in this sort of thing.”
“Very well,” Lily said. “Since you do not wish to discuss how we might aid in this dilemma, let us discuss something else.”
“Indeed,” Sophia said with a decidedly frightening grin. “Let us discuss the subject of the earl creeping out of your window at dawn’s first light this morning, shall we?”
The three of them pinned her with such stares Cassandra considered telling Mister Colwyn to find them positions at Bow Street. She’d closed so much of her life up in little rooms in her mind. Those closed doors had enabled her to survive these last six years with her secrets untold, thus the earl’s mistresses desires to keep some things to themselves were no mystery to her. She understood these women better than even their husbands perhaps. In spite of her very real premonition of danger she squared her shoulders and offered her teacup up for Adrienne to fill once more. “Very well. How do you ladies propose to unmask this diabolical woman?”