Chapter 10
Alexander began his journey from Whitechapel to Thomas’s townhouse, heading towards the river—the way he had gone before.
Once he reached Tower Bridge, he doubled back but took a few different back streets.
He remained alert and ensured he observed the faces of people he encountered whilst keeping his own face obscured.
As it was dawn, there were few people on the streets, and those who were, would be cleaners, fishermen, and market sellers. No gentry or members of the Ton would be venturing out at such an early hour. Still, he could not take any risks.
Once he was satisfied nobody had followed him, Alexander dipped his head low and made a rapid bolt towards Thomas’s townhouse.
“You are quite sure you were not followed?” Thomas asked anxiously, his voice low, as he closed the drawing room door behind them.
“I diverted all over the city to ensure nobody was on my tail,” Alexander confirmed and gestured to the room, where the heavy drapes were pulled shut. “Will your household staff not enter this room?”
“I have given explicit instructions that I am currently executing a highly confidential shipping deal and that any correspondence is strictly to be through me directly. This includes me answering my own door and a ban on entering this drawing room, where communications related to the deal will be carried out.”
“Very wise,” Alexander nodded. “Thank you.”
“You look troubled.” Thomas frowned. “Has some matter occurred?”
“I have vacated my room in Whitechapel and shall not return. I received a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Thomas looked horrified.
“Somebody lingered outside my room and slid this under my door …” Alexander took the playing card from his pocket, where it had sat with heavy profundity during his walk.
Thomas dutifully took the card and gasped as he saw the ace of spades.
“No! You understand the relevance of this particular card?”
“I understand that it symbolizes death–” Alexander confirmed.
“You are correct. Gambling syndicates and criminal organizations use this card as a threat.”
Alexander frowned. “Whilst I did not dare suspect anybody within my family or friendship group of the murder of my father and cousin, I did rather assume it would be somebody linked in some way with the Wellwood estate.”
“I confess I did, also. However, this development suggests the involvement of the criminal underworld.”
Alexander narrowed his eyes, breathing heavily as he tried to think of anyone who may be connected to the darker side of London, but up until his father’s murder, his life had always been blessed with good fortune and trustworthy characters.
“Somebody knows you are alive, Alexander, and they are investigating. The ace of spades holds an unmistakable message: stop now or die.”
Alexander held his friend’s gaze, processing this disquieting development.
“I will not stop investigating this,” Alexander told him assertively. “If anything, this card has only fuelled my determination that the person who killed my father shall be held accountable.
“Up until now, we have assumed it to be one person, but if it is associated with the criminal underworld, it may even be a syndicate of people who are the guilty party …”
“All the more reason for us to proceed with utmost caution. There may be a group of people aware of my presence here in London and who stand at risk of persecution, should we be successful in our mission of exposing them.”
Thomas nodded thoughtfully.
“You will stay here with me. As I mentioned, my staff will not be entering this room.”
“I cannot,” Alexander declined. “I am already placing you in danger. I will not risk you further by making your home vulnerable.”
“Where will you go?”
“I will seek out a room in Seven Dials tonight–”
“Ghastly place–”
“Ironically, the more ghastly, the safer I may perhaps be. The people following me would perhaps expect me to seek finer lodgings.”
“You must only stay in a place one night and relocate every day,” Thomas advised. “It is too high-risk to stand still in one place.”
Alexander nodded in agreement, though he considered securing lodgings afresh every day meant speaking to more people, which in itself felt like a risk.
“I will send word to Captain Morrison that we have some evidence—I will give him this card and hopefully he may be able to investigate who left it,” Thomas advised.
“I will go to Seven Dials now, before London is fully awake for the day. Tonight I meet with Arabella.”
Thomas looked at Alexander dubiously.
“Is that wise?”
“I promised to meet with her to update her on our plan. She will want to know if there is any way she can be of help.”
Thomas nodded curtly once. “She can. Tell her to keep herself safe. We don’t need another murder.”
***
Alexander had skirted the Wellwood estate for an hour before heading to the folly. The worst thing he could do was lead the perpetrator straight to Arabella, and so he needed to be extremely cautious.
Once he felt satisfied nobody had followed him, he entered through a broken hedgerow and approached the folly from a different side than where he had emerged before.
As he approached, he saw her standing there, with her back to him.
Naturally, she was facing the direction he had originally appeared, but it struck him as he made his way deftly across the lawn that if he could sneak up on her so quietly, so could any person with malicious intent.
The idea of it sent a hot, protective anger surging through his body.
“Arabella!” he whispered so as not to startle her.
She turned with a gasp.
“Alexander!” She threw a hand to her chest. “I did not hear you approach.”
“I am aware and relieved it was me accessing the passage and not some contemptible fellow.”
Arabella seemed affronted by this, and so Alexander felt the need to elaborate.
“I apologize for my ferocity. We have experienced a development that must provoke vigilance in us all.”
Alexander thought how pretty Arabella’s face was when she frowned. Her delicate nose was sprinkled with light freckles, and she crinkled it in response to his warning.
“Do tell me, Alexander,” she appealed.
“Thomas has employed a captain to investigate our case. He found a journal that was written by–” Alexander paused and realized that he must convey the message with sensitivity.
He had to remind himself that Arabella had complex emotions associated with the tragic happenings that perhaps he was less able to relate to.
“Perhaps we should sit …” Alexander gestured towards the stone seat that Arabella refused to sit at the last time they met. He wondered if she, like him, associated it with the night that he had proposed and concluded that was probably the exact reason she declined.
“I would prefer we walk,” Arabella suggested.
“Very well, only I must warn you that the information I have to disclose may be upsetting for you,” Alexander countered.
Arabella tilted her chin haughtily. “I am aware that Edmund kept a journal, if this is what you are alluding to.”
Alexander was surprised. “You are? Pray, tell me, do you have an idea of what detail Edmund recorded in his journal?”
“He was rather precious about it. He would lock it and hide it away. I never asked about it since we respected each other’s privacy and lived quite separate lives during our marriage.”
Alexander nodded, understanding. “It is Edmund’s journal that has become the lifeblood of this case.”
Arabella’s brow furrowed. “How so?”
“Firstly, tell me, Arabella. How do you believe Edmund died?”
“It was heart failure.”
“He was very young for heart failure …”
“Sometimes that happens. Do you doubt me?”
Alexander felt such sympathy for her and did not wish to tell her the truth, but could not leave her na?ve, as this increased her vulnerability.
“Arabella, Edmund was also murdered.”
“What?!”
Alexander nodded apologetically. “The physician believes, upon more thorough investigation, that he was poisoned.”
Arabella’s hand flew to her chest, and she shook her head in disbelief.
“Are you suggesting that the same person who murdered your father also killed Edmund!?”
Alexander nodded sombrely. “That does appear to be the case, yes.”
“What grounds do you have for this?”
“Captain Morrison has employed the physician’s technical expertise, and he concluded death by poisoning.
The content of the journal Edmund kept so meticulously was a detailed report of research he had made into the death of my father.
It seems he was gaining traction in his discoveries—and somebody silenced him before he reached the truth. ”
Arabella held her head in her hands, and Alexander allowed her a moment of silence to process the disturbing news.
“Somebody posted this under my door …” Alexander pulled the playing card from the inside pocket of his waistcoat and handed it to Arabella, who took it from him, frowning at it in the darkness. She held it up in the moonlight so that light was cast onto the ace of spades.
“What does it mean?” she asked naively.
“It is symbolic, in the criminal underworld.”
“What does it symbolize?”
“Death.” Alexander gulped.
Arabella blinked at him a few times, and her lips parted as she looked again at the card.
“Death … suggesting somebody is telling you they know you are investigating these deaths?”
“Possibly,” Alexander squirmed. “More likely, however, a threat …”
Arabella looked up sharply. “A threat to your life?”
Alexander nodded after a pause. “I believe so. But I also feel that it is a threat to anybody who is involved in the investigation …”
Arabella looked into his face with a stern expression fixed upon her as she realized what he was insinuating.
“I said I will help you, Alexander, and I will.”
He dropped his head regretfully. “I feared you would say that.”
“You came to ask me to withdraw?”
“I hoped that you would willingly. We have not yet involved you, and so there is no obligation for you to participate. You would be safer–”