Chapter Eighteen
N iall handed the ladies into the carriage before spending a few moments speaking with John Coachman. He nodded to the guard they had brought along, who was riding along at the back in ill-fitted livery, playing the role of footman. He tossed Hartford’s bundle under the seat as he climbed in.
“Whom do you think she’s bought those clothes for?” Gyda asked. “One of her associates?”
“I think she’s bought them for herself,” Niall answered grimly. “Recall what Stayme said, when we first arrived home—he had a watcher keeping an eye on his home from the garden square. He was convinced that both the woman and the ‘aging clerk’ were Petra Scot.”
“What a busy little bee that bitch has been,” grumbled Gyda.
“Chiswick.” Kara looked worried. “It has a train line and easy roads into London proper. It’s not far from Kingston Upon Thames.” She cast Niall a worried look. “And it’s not far from Bluefield, either. She’s been going between all of them.”
“It makes sense as a location for her viper’s nest, but I wonder if she is in it alone?” Somehow, Niall doubted it. Petra always did have a taste for lackeys.
“But we don’t truly expect to find her at this school?” Kara glanced down at the address the tailor had given them. “She might be able to convince a couple of merchants that she is Katherine Prentice, but surely she couldn’t keep up such a masquerade at her sister’s place of work? With people who have spent so much time with her sister, day in and day out?”
“If nothing else, the children would know,” said Gyda. “They always know. Children can spot a sham from fifty paces. And they wouldn’t have been likely to keep quiet about it, either.”
Kara frowned. “By all accounts, Katherine was a normal sort of woman. She was a teacher, which must mean she would have possessed the ability to empathize and commune with others.” She shook her head. “Petra couldn’t manage to act normal for longer than ten minutes, if that. She’s a self-centered blowhard who wouldn’t recognize an empathetic thought if it smacked her right between the brows.”
“She must be maintaining some sort of contact within the school, if she meant to have her elegant men’s clothes delivered there,” Gyda mused.
“All we can do is ask,” Niall said. “It does worry me, though. What could she have planned, in which she would have to pass as a finely dressed gentleman?”
“Nothing good,” Gyda said darkly. “Which is why we must get to her quickly.”
It wasn’t quite two hours before they pulled up before the Clifford School for Girls in Chiswick. John Coachman asked for directions and found his way around the village green and to the south before he drove through the gates and onto the school grounds.
“Good heavens,” Kara said as they descended into the drive. Set in a large park of its own, it was a vast expanse of pale stone stretching up three stories, with long wings on either side of the formal entrance. The facade was beautiful, broken up with pointed gables and octagonal turrets. A many-windowed addition that looked newer graced the far right end of the school. Green lawns spread out before and behind the building. A stack of croquet equipment lay on the front lawn, as if waiting. From somewhere in the back rang the laughter and excited shrieks of children taking advantage of the afternoon sun.
The guard had leapt down and rang at the door to announce them. As they moved away from the carriage, the door opened wide and a somber woman in gray skirts stepped out, her hands folded.
“Behold, the dragon,” Gyda said, low.
The woman sank into a very correct curtsy as they reached her. “Your Grace. Your Grace.” Standing, she cast a questioning glance at Gyda. “And…?”
“May I present our very good friend, Miss Gyda Winther,” Niall said.
“Miss Winther.” The woman gave Gyda a nod. “I am Mrs. Brennan, the director of the Clifford School. I am delighted to welcome you all.” She stepped aside and waved a hand. “May I invite you inside?”
Niall followed the ladies into an impressive marbled hall. He noticed Kara’s attention was captured by the two main portraits that dominated the far wall. “The fifth Duke of Devonshire and his second wife,” she said.
“Oh, yes. You might be aware of the influence the Devonshires have had on Chiswick, what with Chiswick House being so popular with the family and their friends.”
“The street names alone betray the association,” Kara replied.
“Indeed.” Mrs. Brennan noticed Gyda admiring a wall of mounted swords and bayonets and went to stand at her side. “This particular sword belonged to one of our founders,” she began.
Kara drew Niall down to whisper in his ear. “Clifford is the surname of the illegitimate son of the fifth duke and his then-mistress, Lady Elizabeth Foster.”
“Oh, yes.” He recalled the story now. “The infamous ménage à trois .” He glanced at the portrait. “That’s her? The mistress?”
Kara nodded, but Mrs. Brennan had turned back to them. “Would you care to join me in my office?”
“Yes, thank you.” Niall nodded. “We would like a private word.”
The director led them to a large, sun-filled room done up in blues and featuring another portrait of the late Elizabeth Cavendish.
“I have not yet noticed a portrait of the duke’s first duchess, Georgina,” Kara remarked.
“Nor will you,” Mrs. Brennan answered. “Our founder was a close connection and admirer of Elizabeth Cavendish. She revered her spirit, her determination, and her willingness to go far to protect her children. Those qualities inspire our own mission—to educate and guide our girls so that they might fulfill their richest potential and grow into the best version of themselves.”
Niall hoped they were not training the girls to be schemers, which was his general impression of Lady Elizabeth, or Bess, as she had been best known. Everyone knew the story of how she had moved in with her bosom friend, the duchess, and promptly become a mistress to her husband. He knew the duke had sired children on the woman and seen them raised with his legitimate brood. He’d rather thought Bess had used her children as weapons in her quest for advancement. And it had worked. After living with the couple for years, when Georgiana died, Bess became the new duchess.
He thought Kara looked as if she was thinking much along the same lines, but she merely nodded. “A noble goal.”
He noticed Gyda was wearing a smirk, and it struck him suddenly that Mrs. Brennan might be wondering if her three visitors were living out a similar scenario.
He worked to suppress a groan. Odin’s arse .
“Now, what may we at Clifford’s do for you?” Mrs. Brennan asked. “If I recall the stories in the papers correctly, you and the duchess are newly married, Your Grace. You will have no daughters of an appropriate age for our school.” She turned an expectant look on Gyda.
“Oh, no! Not me.” Gyda raised her hands in protest.
“Perhaps you have heard of our good work, then?” the director asked. “We do have several patrons who support us in expectation of a place for their own daughters, when they are ready.”
Kara’s eyes widened. “That does indeed speak well of your efforts. But I am afraid we are here on a different sort of business. We need to speak with one of your teachers. Miss Katherine Prentice.”
Mrs. Brennan’s pleasantly fixed expression abruptly shuttered. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Your Grace, but Miss Prentice is no longer employed at our school.”
Niall gave the woman a sympathetic smile. “We did wonder if that might be the case. Can you, then, give us her new address or the name of her current place of employment?”
“I cannot. It is our policy to keep private such information for our instructors, past or present.”
Kara arched a brow at the woman. “Mrs. Brennan, we are here on business regarding Miss Katherine Prentice’s family.”
Not a lie, Niall reflected.
The woman maintained her dignity. “Your Grace, I know that some feel that teachers are little better than servants, but they do deserve the same consideration of privacy as anyone else.”
“Of course they do,” Kara said gently. “But I assure you, ma’am, we are here to help.”
The director merely shook her head. “Nevertheless.”
Niall leaned in toward the desk. “Mrs. Brennan, our business is quite urgent.” He tilted his head. “You might have noticed that Miss Prentice might not have been acting herself when she returned from her holiday.”
The woman’s lips thinned.
“Well, there’s your answer,” Gyda said.
Relenting a little, the woman nodded. “I did notice. We all did.”
“Do you expect her back?” asked Kara. “To collect her possessions, perhaps?”
“No.” The woman closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. The truth is, I don’t know where Miss Prentice has gone. She took everything she wanted and bade the maids to keep or burn the rest. It was quite disturbing, the way she acted. I could never have imagined such a thing.”
“Might she return, perhaps, to pick up the last of her salary? Or her post?”
“Miss Prentice will not be returning,” the director said coldly. “She made that very clear when she demanded what was due her. And frankly, after her antics, she will not be permitted back on school grounds.”
Kara tossed Niall a questioning look. They had agreed not to tell the truth about Petra masquerading as her sister, for fear of putting those who knew at risk. But it did sound as if Petra had burned her bridges here.
“You are quite sure she won’t be allowed back?” he asked. “To visit her colleagues or students, perhaps?”
“Absolutely not. All the staff and security have been informed.”
Niall nodded to Kara.
His wife drew a breath. “You have a good eye, Mrs. Brennan, and we spoke more truly than you could guess. It was not Miss Prentice who returned here after the holiday. It was her sister, pretending to be her.”
The director blinked. “I… What was that?” She looked to Niall for confirmation.
He nodded.
Kara told her the whole tale. When she had finished, Mrs. Brennan sat very still. “Good heavens. I never guessed. They were so exactly alike. At least in appearance.”
“Twins,” Kara said.
“What an incredible story. It’s like something out of a novel. I would never have believed such a thing, had I not seen the differences in behavior for myself. I was in shock, truly, to see Katherine acting so brash, so harsh and insulting. And some of the things she said to the students!” She glanced at Niall. “You are sure?”
“Positive.”
Suddenly, the woman covered her mouth. “Oh, poor Katherine.”
“You cannot share this truth with anyone,” Kara warned. “Not with your teachers or students. Not until the sister has been caught. The woman is dangerous.”
“Oh, but—”
“She won’t hesitate to kill again if she thinks she’s been found out.”
Alarm replaced the sorrow in the director’s face. “Oh, but then you must tell Joshua! Even if no one else is to know!”
“Joshua?” asked Niall.
“Mr. Joshua Dalton. He is one of our instructors. He teaches history and geography.” Her brow furrowed. “We do not encourage fraternization among our teachers, but he and Katherine are—were—close. Very close.” Her hand went to her mouth again. “That woman! She broke his heart! She cut him loose in a most cruel fashion. But he refused to believe it. Joshua won’t give up on Katherine. He’s vowed to get her back. I know he’s been spending all of his free time looking for her.” She suddenly looked frightened. “You must tell him the truth. There are whispers among the teachers that he’s seen Katherine with another man. If he confronts them, what might happen?”
“He might end up dead,” Gyda said flatly.
“Please,” the director whispered. “You must tell him.”
Niall nodded. “You are right. It sounds as if he needs to know. He might be able to help us find her, as well.” He gave Mrs. Brennan an expectant look. “Does he reside here at the school? Can you send for him?”
“We have two male instructors. They have rooms in a separate building out past the stables.” Mrs. Brennan shook her head. “But you won’t find him there now. Any time he is not in class, he is out in search of Katherine. Or drowning his sorrows at the Fox and Hare.”
He glanced out the window at the fading light. “The Fox and Hare, you say? Is it a respectable place to stay the night?”
The director gave a shake of her head. “Chiswick scarcely has an undesirable set, but if they are to be found, that would be the place. I would instead stay at the Meryton Inn. It is just down the high street from the corner where the Fox and Hare sits, but it is of a more elevated setting. Many of our parents stay there when they attend to school matters and functions.”
Kara stood. “Thank you, Mrs. Brennan.”
Niall joined her. “If I were you, I would take every precaution against allowing the fraudulent Miss Prentice back in.”
“We will. Thank you for sharing the truth.” Mrs. Brennan cast them both a candid look. “And please, someday, when you have daughters of your own, think of us again.”
Niall thanked the woman, but he had no room for such thoughts right now. Until Petra was stopped, all their plans for the future were in jeopardy.
Kara looked like she were sharing the same grim thought.
Gyda, however, looked about her with satisfaction as they emerged into the approaching evening. “We are catching her up,” she said with fierce delight. “Let’s go see if we can snare her at the Fox and Hare.”
*
They sent John Coachman and the guard to reserve them rooms at the hotel before they went in search of the tavern. They found it at the end of the high street, sitting back from the road a little, at the corner. Kara examined the narrow building and the crudely carved sign above the scarred door before they stepped through into the tavern.
The place had good bones, but Mrs. Brennan had been correct—the Fox and Hare was not an entirely respectable spot. It was thick with shadows and dark corners. The floors were sticky, the tables dirty, and the smell of spoiling meat and stale ale hung in the air.
As usual, when she entered a business that needed a guiding hand, Kara’s fingers itched to get to work. A thorough scrubbing, a bit more light, a good menu and a touch of care… That was all it would take to turn this place around. It was almost like it was trying to be dissolute.
The patrons didn’t seem to mind the shabby surroundings. They looked to be a mix of laborers, clerks, country folk, and lower servants. A step above the kind one might find in London’s low spots, at least. But here and there a more questionable sort stood out, and there were more bosom-flaunting serving wenches than such a small taproom called for. Indeed, just as they paused on the threshold of the room, she saw a laughing barmaid take a grizzled man’s hand and lead him toward a narrow stair at the far side of the room.
Ah. Now they knew what they were dealing with.
It became obvious when the three of them were spotted. All the raucous conversation and coarse laughter abruptly died away, only to start again, louder than before.
“Well, then,” Gyda said. “They know we are here. We might as well see what we can see.”
The closer they came to finding Petra, the more predatory Gyda’s manner became. Kara watched her reach up and remove the pins anchoring her hair. She shook out her mane of braids and blonde locks and cast a feral grin around the taproom. Stalking over to the bar, she leaned in to speak with the woman manning the taps.
Kara followed, with Niall on her heels.
The woman behind the bar shook her head at Gyda. “We don’t tell tales on our customers.”
“A good business practice, in general.” Gyda cast an amused glance around the taproom. “But in this case, we are here to warn Mr. Dalton. He won’t continue as your customer, or anyone else’s either, if he keeps on as he’s going now.”
The woman ran her gaze over by Gyda, then looked past her to eye Kara and Niall.
Kara returned her look of frank assessment, then stepped forward. “Is this your establishment?”
The woman raised her chin. Older than Kara, she looked thin and worn, but pride still shone from her. “It is.”
Nodding, Kara looked around. “As a business owner myself, I commend your loyalty to your customer. But in this case, loyalty would demand that you help us locate Mr. Dalton. I fear he is in some danger.”
“This is about the woman, isn’t it?”
Gyda nodded. “Oh, it most certainly is.”
Kara pulled one of Sculley’s sketches from her bag. “Is this the woman you meant?”
“Aye. That’s her.” The tavern keeper shook her head. “A teacher over at the girl’s school, they say she is, but she’s the last sort I’d think you’d want around innocent young ladies. She’s only been here a time or two, and that’s only lately, but I picked her out for a hard one.” She looked with approval at Gyda. “But I wouldn’t give her long odds against you.” She thrust her chin toward an empty table along the back wall. “Sit there. Order something. Dalton’s not here now, but he’ll be along, if his pattern holds. I’ll give you the nod when he arrives.” She shrugged. “But I warn you, the wait might be long.”
Behind Kara, Niall cleared his throat. “Thank you. Ales all around, please.”
“Nothing to eat?” The woman’s disapproval shone clear.
Kara had no desire to discover what was giving off the gamey smell hanging in the air. “Bread and cheese, then.”
The tavern keeper nodded, and a certain tension fell away from the room as they turned to take the table. Kara paused, though, before taking her seat. “If we’ll have to wait, perhaps I should take the chance to send word to Turner. I can send a messenger to tell him what we’ve found so far, and he could send word back to the Meryton if he or Stayme have learned anything of significance.”
Niall stood. “I’ll go and see about it.”
“No. You should stay. I wondered if Mr. Dalton might be more likely to talk freely with you. Masculine sympathies, and all that.”
“She might be right,” Gyda said.
“Whom will you send, though?” asked Niall. “I did see a livery, and they might have someone to hire, and a mount as well. But I don’t want you out on the streets here alone.”
“I’ll ask,” she said, nodding toward the tavernkeeper. “She’ll likely have paper and pen, and if she doesn’t have a messenger I can hire, I’ll ask her to send out to the livery for someone to come here.”
Niall reluctantly agreed, and Kara went back to the bar to broach the subject.
“Aye, you can use my office to write out your message. I’d let you hire out my groom, but he’s broke his foot, and the doctor has him on crutches. The livery is a good idea, though, and the boy is well enough to hobble down the street to have them send a lad to you.”
“Thank you. I do appreciate your help,” said Kara.
“A moment, though, eh? Let me pour these lads another round and then I’ll take you upstairs to the office.”
Kara nodded and thanked the woman again. Leaning against the bar, she waited. Trying to be discreet about it, she turned her attention to the serving girls.
They appeared to be a lighthearted lot. They laughed and flirted, but Kara could not see that any of them looked skittish or forced. She could see no bruises on any of them. None looked haunted or frightened. A few of the men teased them, but no one grabbed or groped at them. Kara didn’t see any of the women touched at all until she spotted one crooking her finger at a strapping young man in invitation. A few of his mates gave hooting encouragement as he wrapped an arm around her and they started for the stairs.
“Follow me, then, aye?” The tavern keeper came out from behind the bar and jerked her head. Kara trailed her out of the taproom, into the entryway, and up the main staircase to the next floor, where the woman deposited her in a small, untidy office.
“There’s paper and nibs in the top drawer,” she said, pointing to the desk. “Ink’s on top there, somewhere. Help yourself. I’ll send Hamish down to the livery. They’ll likely send one of their younger lads, seeing as you said it’s not a far journey. When he gets here, I’ll send him up here to you.”
“Thank you. You have been most helpful, and I am grateful.” Kara started to move toward the desk, but the tavern keeper leaned against the doorframe and cast a wry glance at her.
“I saw you watching the girls. Perhaps it will ease you to know no one forces them to be here, or to do aught they’ve no wish to.”
“That’s the conclusion I was coming to myself.”
The woman lifted her chin. “It’s easy to look down your nose from a great height, but most of these girls have other occupations. Shop girl. Flower maker. Laundress. But those jobs don’t often pay enough to cover rent, food, and the needs of families.” She shrugged. “Some of these girls only come in here for a little extra, when they need to. Some are regulars. I let them use the rooms upstairs, as they will. I take my cut, but I don’t hold with anyone mistreating them.” She jerked her head down toward the taproom. “This lot knows to treat them with a bit of respect. I won’t tolerate anything else.”
Kara met the woman’s gaze directly. “I do not object to anyone doing what they must to make their way in the world, as long as they are not hurting others.”
The woman snorted. “Most of them aren’t’ hurtin’ no one. A few are only harmin’ themselves, if you know what I mean. But they do what’s needed, for them and theirs.”
“I do know what you mean,” Kara said with a sigh. “I only wish it wasn’t necessary.”
The tavern keeper looked surprised. She nodded begrudgingly. “Maybe there will come a day when it won’t be, but it won’t be in our lifetimes.” She straightened. “Stay as long as you need to. Come down when you finish with the messenger. In the meantime, I’ll fetch ale and bread and cheese for you and your friends.”
When the woman had gone, Kara sat down, cleared a space on the desk, and outlined all that they had learned for Turner. She told him to send word back with the messenger if he had need to. She hoped they would not still be here past the next morning.
She’d just found the sealing wax and had lit a candle to melt it when the livery’s boy arrived. She gave him detailed instructions on how to find Bluefield Park before handing over the message and coins so that he could take the train as far as Hammersmith. “You can hire a mount there, and if you hurry, now, you might make the last train back to Chiswick and save yourself the longer ride back.”
The boy nodded, eager to go. Once he was gone, Kara sat a moment at the messy desk and drank in the quiet. They’d been caught in a whirlwind since last evening, and it was likely to get worse tonight. She only hoped they would find Petra here in Chiswick. She was beyond ready to put the woman, and all the grief and trouble she brought, behind them.
After blowing out the candle, Kara left the office and paused in the narrow, dark hall. Based on the squeak of a mattress emanating from the next room, this was where the serving maids brought their customers. That meant—yes, there, at the far end of the hall, was the landing of the narrow stairs that led to the taproom. She went to it and started down, but paused in the shadows at the top.
Someone had taken her spot at the table. A dark-haired young man, sitting with his shoulders hunched and his head hanging low. He spoke to Niall, who bent over, listening intently. Gyda listened as well, but she sat back in the shadows, her gaze roaming the taproom, watching for trouble.
Kara waited until Gyda had seen her. With a nod, she started moving again, but she’d only made it a couple of additional steps before, across the room, the taproom door began to slowly open.
She stilled.
A man took up most of the doorway, his broad frame draped in a long, dark coat. But someone lurked behind him. A woman. Her skirts brushed the man’s legs as she leaned in beside him.
Petra Scot.
Kara’s eyes widened. Gyda had looked away, but she glanced back and noticed the expression on Kara’s face. Kara widened her eyes again, then darted them toward the door, frantically trying to transmit the message. Gyda, bless her, merely nodded and did not look over in that direction.
Kara backed up the stairs again, moving slowly. Petra and the man peered around at the tables and stopped, their attention caught as they spotted Niall at the table with the young man. Petra whispered something and the man inched back, closing the door again.
Kara backed up the last couple of stairs, whirled, and raced quickly down the hall toward the main stairs, at the other end of the passage. She kept to the edge, trying not to make any noise. When she reached the main staircase, she stood at the top, clutching the rail and listening.
Petra and the large man stood below in the entryway, whispering intently.
The noise from the taproom had grown loud. Even with the door closed, it interfered. Kara couldn’t make out their words. Kneeling down, she strained to hear.
They were arguing. Petra cursed and stepped back from the man. “You heard me. That teacher is a loose end. Someone’s been lurking about the farm. It must have been him. Who knows what he’s seen? And what might he be sharing with Kier now? And what of Kier? If he is telling that sniveler the truth about who I am, then he is sealing the man’s fate.”
The woman stepped in a circle, her hand at her brow. “Damnation,” she cursed bitterly, before turning back. “How did Kier find me? And where the hell is his bitch of a wife?”
Kara shrank back as the woman below circled again.
Suddenly Petra stopped. “Finish him. Finish them both. We are going to have to move more quickly than we planned. I’ll go back and collect the cases and head straight into Town. If you are quick about it, meet me at the livery and you can travel back with me to fetch them. If you dawdle, then make your own way into London. You know where we will be. Just be sure to care of those two.”
The large man clearly did not enjoy taking orders from her. He started to object, but Petra stepped close and leaned in. Staring upward, she hissed something close to his face.
The man stiffened and nodded. Turning, he yanked off his long coat with angry, jerky movements. After hanging it on a nearby rack, he headed back for the taproom. Petra watched him go, then spun on her heel and went out the front door.
Kara slipped down the stairs. A large, drab shawl hung on the coat rack as well. She snatched it up, wrapped it around her head, and followed the woman into the darkened street.