Chapter 29
“Oh, yer back, are ye?” said the maid to Pevensey as he knocked on the door of the house in Baker Street. He had an inkling she would not have been so free with her speech to someone she deemed to be of the same class as her mistress.
“Yes, is Miss Cecil at home?”
“Just Miss Cecil?” The saucy baggage arched her eyebrow at him.
“Just Miss Cecil.”
“Ah’ll see.” She ushered him into the small entryway and let him cool his heels while she went upstairs to fetch Miss Cecil. After a few moments, Miss Cecil glided down the stairs in a blue dress that was simple, neat, and modest and something the King’s Theatre actresses would scorn to wear.
After a tumultuous day, Pevensey felt perfectly at rest in her presence. “I hope I am not interrupting right before dinner?”
“No, no, we were exhausted after today’s adventures and dined early in our rooms tonight.” Miss Cecil looked at him considerately. “There was plenty of food. Mrs. Mabley put something by, and I can have her make up a plate for you.”
Pevensey would have protested, but his stomach growled at just that moment, giving the lie to any claim that he was not hungry.
Miss Cecil gave a quick order to the pert maid and then walked with Pevensey into the dining room. She gestured to a chair at the end of the table for him to sit, but first, he skirted the edge of the table to pull out a nearby chair for her so that they could converse comfortably.
“Where did you go today that made you so exhausted?”
“We visited Mr. Aldine at Newgate.”
Pevensey tried to contain his displeasure at that announcement, but he could see that Miss Cecil sensed it.
“I see you are determined to disapprove of the visit, like all the other gentlemen of our acquaintance. Never fear,” she said with a laugh. “Helena convinced the Marquis de Montesquerrat to accompany us, so we were not wholly unprotected.”
Pevensey shook his head. “You cannot deny that I know more about Newgate than most, Miss Cecil, and I implore you to keep clear of that place—with or without a gentleman escort.”
“I suppose you would recognize many of the men under lock and key there?”
“The men and their crimes.” He looked at her earnestly. “Your brother would support me in forbidding you to make a second visit.”
Their conversation halted as the cook entered the room holding a plate of roast beef and vegetables from dinner. She had a child on her opposite hip, the same child that she’d been holding in the rickety carriage when they’d come down from the border country.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mabley,” said Pevensey, giving the cook a smile as she set down the plate.
A gentleman would likely not have acknowledged the cook’s presence, but there was never any harm in being polite to a woman.
The cook blushed, lifted the child a little higher on her hip, and then disappeared from the dining room leaving Pevensey alone with his dining partner.
“Now, prepare yourself for a one-sided conversation,” said Miss Cecil.
“I shall talk so you can eat. No need to thank me. My brother will tell you that I enjoy monopolizing the conversation.” She grinned.
“Despite your dislike of Newgate, it did produce one interesting clue. Mr. Aldine gave me a message for you.”
Mouth full, Pevensey looked up at her inquiringly.
“He suggested that you search his flat for a letter. He thought it might help. Helena has a letter as well—the blackmail note from the actress. Should you like to see it?”
Pevensey nodded and swallowed.
Miss Cecil, as graceful as a swan, slipped from her seat and glided out the door. Three minutes later, she returned bearing a sheet of paper.
Pevensey put down his fork and knife, his light eyes skimming the paper rapidly. Then, reaching into his coat, he pulled out the two matching letters and handed them to Miss Cecil. “What do you make of these two together?”
A perplexed wrinkle on her forehead appeared as she read, captivating him far more than it should have. He addressed himself again to his food, waiting for her to speak.
“How curious that they should be identical, and yet not identical! Do you think that either gentleman wrote the letter in the first place?”
“Yes, I think one of them did.” He nodded to her to look again, challenging her to make her own observations.
“The letter from ‘Will’ appears more labored, as if it was copied rather than the invention of the moment. But this letter from ‘F’ was dashed off hurriedly, the product of mind as well as hand.”
Pevensey nodded. She was a quick study. He was no expert on forgery, but her intuition was eminently reasonable. “This letter from Libby Clifford that you just showed me—do you notice any similarities between the handwriting with the other two?”
Miss Cecil laid all three letters side by side, and again, that adorable mark of perplexity displayed itself on her brow.
“Not with the letter from ‘F,’ but the letter from ‘Will’ could very well have been written in Libby’s hand.
There is a similarity in the loop of the ‘f’ and the crossing of the ‘t’.
” She looked up at Pevensey. “But what would be the point of Libby forging a letter from Will to send to Ralph?”
“Can’t you see?” asked Pevensey mildly. “You will in a moment.”
“Of course!” She struck a hand against the table in excitement.
“She wrote to ‘F’ first to inform him that she was pregnant, but he refused to acknowledge the child or pay her what she wanted. Then she decided to cast the net wider and convince Will’s relations that the child was his.
She copied ‘F’s’ response so that it would have the flair of a gentleman’s tone in the writing. ”
“That is the conclusion I have drawn as well.”
“But then, who is ‘F’? Is he the real culprit in the case?”
“I think I may know.” Pevensey removed Danvers’ notebook of names and numbers and quickly explained what he had discovered.
“So, you think these dates are for deliveries from gentlemen for the actresses with those initials? Then what do the shillings and pounds mean?”
“I think Danvers was charging the actresses and dancers a handling fee for every gift that was delivered at the theater.” He opened his notebook and showed her the sketches he had made of the two necklaces.
Miss Cecil scrutinized them carefully and then turned back to the ledger in Danvers’ notebook. “And these two deliveries, marked ten pounds each, were the necklaces for Elizabeth Clifford from Rundell and Bridge?”
“Yes, and these smaller amounts for other actresses were lesser gifts. Perhaps he only charges a shilling for flowers or sweetmeats, but a guinea or greater for more permanent displays of affection.”
Miss Cecil examined the columns more closely. “Miss Clifford—‘E.C.’—seems to be the only one without a tick mark next to the amount. What do you think that means?”
“Perhaps she did not pay up. Perhaps she was waiting for money from Fremont or Ralph Aldine to settle her ‘debt’ to Danvers.”
“Have you interviewed Fremont yet?”
“No, I have a few more interviews to finish at the theater.”
“And don’t forget your visit to Mr. Aldine’s apartment! Another letter to add to the mix.” She gave a sharp intake of breath. “What if we were to go there tonight?”
“We?” repeated Pevensey with lifted eyebrows.
“Why yes,” she replied playfully. “It is my clue, after all. You don’t expect that I would let you do all the investigation by yourself?”
“Your brother would have my head if I took you to an empty flat in the wrong part of London after dark.” At least he had not been the one to take her to Newgate! He could not be blamed for that imprudence when her brother discovered what she had been up to in his absence.
“Even if I brought a maid with me?” she asked coaxingly.
“Even if you brought a maid with you,” replied Pevensey sternly.
“Oh, very well then.”
That was one of the best qualities of Miss Cecil—she always saw sense when sense was needed.
“But,” she said, leaning closer across the table to make her point clear, “you must promise not to go without me. Tomorrow morning will be ideal! Surely, no one would object to such a visit in broad daylight.”
Pevensey had his doubts about that, but visiting the flat with Miss Cecil was a far more pleasant prospect than visiting it with Tibbs. “I’ll call for you at ten o’clock tomorrow,” he said with a show of reluctance.
“I’ll be ready,” she replied, her excitement as endearing as her perplexity.
“Oh, Helena,” said Maud, pressing her hand, “it is so awful to think of Ralph locked up behind the walls of Newgate. I can only imagine how dark and cold and—”
“Yes,” interrupted Helena. “It is awful. I went there yesterday to see him.”
Maud sat up straighter on the sofa. “You went there!” She glanced around the parlor of Helena’s Baker Street house, as if she was afraid of someone eavesdropping on their conversation. “I have been wanting to visit him as well, but you know how Geoffrey is.”
“I do.” Helena gave her sister-in-law a sympathetic look.
“He was my sole guardian after our parents’ death, and he was always as strict as a convent of nuns.
His concern is well-meant. But I have obligations to someone other than him now.
Which is why I decided to lease my own establishment for the duration of my trip to London. ”
“He’s furious about that.”
“I expect he would be. Fortunately, I need only worry about my husband’s opinion of the matter.”
“How is Ralph?” asked Maud fervently.
Helena gave a sigh. “Poorly. He has developed a distressing cough, and—oh, Maud!—he is so thin!” A few tears slipped out the corners of her blue eyes, tears which would have been hidden on a black dress, but which created a mark on the lavender she now wore.
Maud was in half mourning as well, in memory of the loss of both brother and father within the last six months. Helena knew it was the reason Maud had delayed the wedding to Geoffrey, choosing to wait until June when she would be out of lavender and black.
“I’m glad the trial is soon,” said Maud.
“At least, the papers say that it is. How horrid to have to learn about one’s own brother in the papers and from other people’s tittle-tattle.
I saw Anthea Wedgwood at St. George’s on Sunday, and she had the temerity to inquire about Ralph being in Newgate.
‘He’s your father’s by-blow, isn’t he? Do you actually consider him a brother?
’ I’m beginning to think that Geoffrey is right and that we shouldn’t have invited Lord and Lady Fremont to the wedding, for we were obliged to invite her as well since she’s staying with them. ”
“I think she considered Geoffrey as good as hers last autumn. She spent a good deal of time patronizing me since I am his little sister. And the things she says are always shocking. She never matches her speech to the company she is in but simply says whatever comes into her head.”
“Well, he is not hers and never will be,” said Maud fiercely. “And perhaps the invitations will have to be rescinded and the wedding delayed even further, if Ralph…” She refused to finish the sentence.
“No!” said Helena in anguish. “I cannot believe a jury would convict Ralph on such slight evidence. Mr. Pevensey will find the truth of the matter before the trial.”
“Mr. Pevensey is on the case?” said Maud, her face lighting up with hope. “That is the best news. He was the officer whose evidence exonerated Geoffrey in January.”
“Yes, he has gone to Ralph’s flat this morning with Edwina to find a letter Ralph mentioned.
I wanted to come as well, but they did not think I could manage the stairs.
” Helena looked down modestly at her belly.
The baby had become more active than ever in the last twenty-four hours, and she was beginning to feel as large as a ship in full sail.
“I hope Mr. Pevensey will find something besides the letter there—something to give Ralph an alibi. Though why anyone thinks such a patient and kind man could kill someone is beyond me.”
“Did you hear how the actress…died?”
“No one has told me that. I daresay they thought such talk was too grim for a pregnant woman to hear.” Helena reflected that her own soft sensibilities had grown significantly harder over the last six months. Was there anything Maud could say that would shock her?
“I’m afraid that Anthea Wedgwood thrust that information upon me. According to her, the poor woman was first poisoned and then stabbed. She delivered that delightful tidbit in front of her sister, and I was afraid poor Emma was going to retch into her reticule.”
Helena gasped. “How positively grotesque! Who could do something so—so evil? Oh Maud! Did you know she was with child?”
“I didn’t.”
“She said it was Will’s.”
Maud’s lip began to tremble. “Oh, Helena!” she said. “How poorly my brother has used you.” She pressed Helena’s hand, and they sat in silence for a moment.
“Yes,” agreed Helena. “But had I not known Will, then I never would have had Ralph. And I am convinced that, in the end, I have the better part of the bargain.”