Chapter Forty-One
Lady Mary
I tried to steady my breathing. “The gun is hardly practical. Even with the racket your neighbors are making, a shot would be heard and investigated.”
Miss Abbott tilted her head, the cerulean blue feather in her matching bonnet quivering. “Bannister’s death proves that wrong. I had plenty of time to leave his apartment before any of his neighbors called for a constable.”
“That was the middle of the night.” I looked about for anything that could help. A weapon. A distraction. At the moment, I prayed that Julius had ignored my request and followed me here and would come climbing through the window. “There were candles that had to be lit, clothes to be put on.”
Three loud bangs shook the wall between the apartments. Miss Abbott smirked. “I think I’d be fine. No, it isn’t the noise. I don’t know how I would explain your body found in my home, however.” She looked at the space at my feet. “And I quite like my rug.”
I folded the letter and tucked it up the cuff of my sleeve.
“Well, then. Since we both agree you can’t shoot me, I’ll be leaving.
” I started for the door, annoyed that today of all days I’d left my walking stick at home.
I’d wanted both hands free to snoop, but I now felt the lack of such a solid weapon.
I pulled up short when Miss Abbott stepped in front of me, raising the pistol to my face. It was a pretty thing, I saw. A glossy silver with a polished-wood handle. The shaft of the gun was made up of four small barrels joined together. Four barrels meant four bullets. One was enough to end me.
“I don’t want to kill you here, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.
” Miss Abbott’s eyes were flat. She almost looked bored.
Like killing me wouldn’t be any more bother than stamping on an insect.
“I think I’d shoot you in the arm so you can still walk out of here with me, but I can wait until night falls and drag you out, if need be. ”
My shoulders lowered. Even getting shot in the arm didn’t sound pleasant. And I certainly had a better chance to escape once we got to the street. “Where shall we go?”
She pursed her lips. “Your club, I think. It’s fitting to have this end where it began.
” She stepped to the side and jerked the gun, indicating I should go ahead of her.
When we reached the front door, she slipped the pistol inside her reticule, the cloth hiding its existence from outside observers.
It never left off pointing at me, however.
The noisy neighbors stayed inside their lodgings. The landlady didn’t come out to investigate as we went down the stairs. The street wasn’t busy, but there were a few carriages rolling down it. And a pair of men hurried down the pavement heading right for us. If I could just—
The muzzle of the pistol pressed into my back. “If you call out to them, I’ll shoot one of them in the face. I might be caught, but he’ll be dead. Do you want that on your conscience?”
My body flushed with heat. She was using my own morals against me. As Miss Abbott didn’t have any morals, it was especially aggravating. And effective.
I let the men pass without making eye contact. I waved at my driver who had parked discreetly further down the street, and we waited as he pulled up in front of us. “The club, Ernest.”
He barely looked askance at the additional passenger. And why should he? I hadn’t told him of my suspicions, nor the purpose of my visit. He would merely think Miss Abbott an acquaintance to whom I was offering a ride.
The journey to the club seemed both eternal and over much too soon.
Sitting with a killer made each second feel an hour.
Especially as she never turned her eerie, hard gaze from me, even for a moment.
But knowing that I would have to act or die when we arrived at my club, made me long for the ride to never end.
Bernard opened the door to the carriage, helped us down, then hurried for the door of the club. I thought about telling him some clever remark, one he would understand meant to get help but would be beyond Miss Abbott’s understanding.
I was all out of clever remarks. I pictured Bernard with a hole in his head, and my mouth dried up.
“I believe Miss Lynton is in your office, milady.” Bernard nodded to me, gave Miss Abbott a pleasant smile. “She seemed most anxious to see you.”
My shoulders drooped lower, as though another weight had been added to them. I stomped toward my office, nearly tripping when Miss Abbott kicked my heel. She was so close to me, keeping that pistol jammed into my side, our feet nearly tangled.
“Careful, Lady Mary.” She gripped my elbow with her free hand. “I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself.”
Not before she could kill me. “Whatever you’re planning won’t work. There are too many witnesses who saw you accompany me to my office. Bow Street will know just where to look if you kill me now.”
“You’ve made me change my plans, but I can still make it work.
” She called a greeting to a woman in the newly reopened Tea Room as we passed.
“I had hoped someone else would be blamed so I could remain here, but now I only need time to make it to the Continent. I have friends in France. I can live there.”
“Of course, you have friends in France.” I sniffed.
“That ribbon you wore, and lost in your struggle to kill your friend, it was a symbol of the guillotine, was it not? A slash of red about your throat to show your childish support for the murder of thousands of innocents? You are such an admirer of their revolution it makes sense you think you can order life to your liking via bloodshed.”
“You know nothing,” Miss Abbott spat. “You have your title, your wealth, without a care in the world for the plight of others.”
“You speak as though you were a commoner, yet you don’t labor for a living.
I bet you have a tidy sum to live upon.” I raised my voice as we approached my office, hoping Eleanor would have some warning, perhaps be able to throw a potted plant at Miss Abbott’s head.
“How much money did you make from your part in the blackmail scheme?”
The gun jabbed into my ribs, stealing my breath. “Enough.” She pushed me through the door, stepping inside, then quickly sidestepping to press her back to the wall. She must have suspected an ambush, as well.
Unfortunately, my hopes and her expectations were both unmet. Eleanor popped up at the sound of our entry, turning to face us as she spoke. “You’ll never guess what I’ve learned. I….”
Her voice trailed off when she saw Miss Abbott, who drew the gun from her reticule. Eleanor shrank back, her hip bumping into my desk. “Oh. I see you already know.”
“That Miss Abbott is our killer?” I looked around the office, frowning. Darn it, why did I have to be so tidy? There was no handy broom, no pair of scissors carelessly left out, that I could grab. “Yes, I do.”
“Sit.” Miss Abbott pointed at Eleanor’s chair for Eleanor to sit in, then pointed at mine behind the desk.
We sat.
Miss Abbott pulled the servant’s bell. “When your footman arrives, tell him to close the club and send all your workers home. You don’t have many members left to remove in any event.”
My heart beat faster. This would be unusual. My workers might become suspicious. It was a chance. A small one, but a chance.
She dropped gracefully into the other guest chair, pointing the gun at Eleanor and resting her reticule over it. “And make it sound convincing. I have very good aim.”
And just like that, my hopes sank. I couldn’t risk it. Not Eleanor. Not Bernard, nor Bobby, nor Timothy. They were like family. And I had no doubt Miss Abbott wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in them.
So when Bobby appeared, I was convincing. I told him that with so few members, I wanted to give the workers a day off to spend in leisure. Paid, of course.
His eyes lit at that last bit, and with barely a glance at my companions, he trotted out of my office and went about emptying the club.
“I’m pleased you both are taking this so calmly.” Miss Abbott slid to the edge of her chair. “When I pulled this gun on Bannister, he was far from tranquil. He kept repeating the question, ‘Why?’” She mimicked weeping sounds. “‘Why are you doing this?’ He went on and on. Don’t you want to know?”
I looked at the gun again. How much time did it take between firing one bullet and another? If I got out of this alive, I really must make a study of firearms. If I rushed her, would Eleanor be able to escape? Or would she be shot, as well? “Since it seems you wish to tell us, I’ll ask. Why?”
“I know.” Eleanor shifted, sliding her second hand into the muff she carried. “It’s what I came here to tell you,” she said to me. “I spoke with Mrs. Sanders. You remember her? Short, blonde, has an irritating laugh? Well, she’s another member of their little blackmail gang. She told me.”
“Edna doesn’t know anything,” Miss Abbott spat out.
“She knew enough.” Eleanor’s shoulders trembled, but she kept her voice even. “Enough for me to piece together the true reason you killed Lady Richford. She said that you were…closer than friends.” Eleanor swallowed. “That you were in love with her. And Lady Richford didn’t love you in return.”
I sat back. I…hadn’t been expecting that.
I’d deduced that Miss Abbott was the guilty party because no one else had had the opportunity to obtain that letter, excepting Lord Richford and his son.
In their grief, they’d let Miss Abbott into their home, into Lady Richford’s bedroom, to choose what clothes the victim would be buried in.
That unrequited love was the reason for the murder had never crossed my mind.
It should have. Just because Sapphos weren’t common didn’t mean they didn’t exist. I had just been too blind to see it.