Chapter Seventeen
Despite his lordship’s disapproval, Victoria had made herself look upon Mrs. Taylor, though only for a few brief seconds. Love his heart, Lord Thompson and his sweet analytical mind meant to protect her. “Before you look, permit me to describe what you will view,” he had insisted.
Victoria nodded for him to proceed.
“Mrs. Taylor’s face is very bruised from where she was struck about the head.
She has been here for a few hours, which means some parts of her body have swollen from the body’s fluids.
Mrs. Taylor’s body will not appear as one would, say, in your father’s church or a lying-in for a funeral.
More cuts and bruises than you might expect.
More damage to the skin. These conditions are all temporary. Soon they will lessen in severity.”
Victoria nodded her understanding, and he stepped aside. His description answered some of her initial questions and had softened the horror, but to look upon a loving and familiar person, who had been nothing but kindness, would likely haunt Victoria’s days.
After a matter of seconds, Lord Thompson stepped between her and the scene. “You can confirm the woman is a former boarding house roommate?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered as she swayed in place.
Lord Thompson backed her from the scene, constantly holding onto her shoulders.
He guided her out of the close and around the corner, where he again leaned her up against a building.
He squatted down to look her in the eyes.
“Steady your breathing. Take slow, deep breaths.” He lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers. “Do you feel as if you might faint?”
“I have never fainted, my lord,” she declared and made herself stand firm, but she still felt a bit weak.
“Hold me…” she began, and immediately his lordship’s arms were about her.
Together, they stood on a busy London street—workers preparing for their day streamed around them.
His chin rested on her head; her bonnet and gloves were still in her bag.
Whether Victoria should have done so or not, she snuggled closer, absorbing his strength to make her whole again.
For those few moments of contact, she could believe she was no longer alone in the world.
As her breathing had begun to settle, someone cleared his throat nearby. It was Lord Graham again. “I know your heart is sore with grief, Miss Whitchurch, but can you identify the needles as yours?”
“She did not…” Lord Thompson began his protest.
However, Lord Graham shushed his brother.
“I did not say Miss Whitchurch committed a murder. We all know Miss Whitchurch is likely not strong enough to commit a murder, especially one so staged. I doubt any woman could do such harm, but we must put all the pieces together. Miss Whitchurch has again and again performed benevolently; yet, even you, Benjamin, realize this was a message to our family.”
“Go on,” Victoria instructed, ignoring Lord Thompson’s censoring of his brother’s efforts. “Ask your questions, my lord. If I know anything that would be of service in finding justice, I am willing to assist.”
“First, do you know anything about the lady’s family? Who should we contact?” Graham questioned.
“The lady has two sons, but I have only met one of them. A Mr. Linville Taylor, a solicitor, so named for ‘Linville’ was Mrs. Taylor’s family name. I do not know where his offices must be, but I do know he in London proper.”
“We will find him,” Graham assured.
“Secondly, and more personally, is there anyone who would want to blame you for a crime?” Lord Graham asked.
“None I could name.” She swallowed her pride and said, “My sister could have earned enemies, beyond Mr. Betts, though the young gentleman possesses a mean streak he readily conceals. I have met few in London other than those at Mr. Sustar’s shop and your brother.
Working ten to twelve hours each day for Mr. Sustar and caring for the child, I have seen little of London and have taken in no entertainments.
When I am not performing the first two, I am snatching bits of sleep.
My days, by most standards, are full, but not remarkable. ”
Graham nodded his understanding. “When you have time to do so, please inventory what is in your bag and inform Thompson if anything beyond the needles and the child’s gown are missing.”
“I shall,” she said.
“Take her home,” Graham ordered. “I apologize, miss. None of us wish to bring you anguish.”
“You will keep me informed,” Lord Thompson instructed.
“Absolutely,” Graham said. “I should rejoin Duncan and the constable.” With a bow, his lordship walked away.
Lord Thompson said, “I wish I had brought my coach, for it would provide us more privacy, but I see Brunswick has brought the gig around and has secured my horse. Let us go home.”
Victoria nodded her agreement.
Lord Thompson instructed his footman, “You are to ride the horse and follow us. Close.”
Brunswick’s shoulders straightened in preparedness as he answered, “Aye, sir.”
His lordship led her to where the gig was waiting.
“Tuck yourself into my side,” he instructed as he assisted her to her seat.
“I would prefer that few recognized you, so don your bonnet.” He said in strict seriousness, “If someone wishes to teach my family a lesson, I do not want you caught in the ensuing melee.”
Victoria did not know how she felt about his words. She feared he would turn from her in order to protect her, and her heart would know a greater loss than any she had known previously.
Once the horse was in motion, and they were moving away from the devastation of a few moments earlier, he said, “You should rest today. I will assist in caring for the boy.”
“I could not ask it of you,” she protested as she looked up to him.
“You did not ask. I volunteered. Do not forget I have a staff who adores the child. I believe we might all manage while you rest,” he instructed.
“How am I to return to Mr. Sustar’s shop this evening?” she bemoaned. “I shall never forget poor Mrs. Taylor. How might I return to where she was killed?”
“You do not,” he said in firm tones.
“I cannot permit you to pay my way in the world,” she argued.
“Brunswick said something this morning regarding the number of hours you are spending in Sustar’s shop.
Why can you not sew from your home? If there is no one in the shop to watch over you, then you could work equally as well from your home.
In the daylight, not the overnight hours.
So you might save your vision. Sustar is basically paying for your completing the work in a timely manner, is he not? ”
“I suppose, but do you not think the child would be a distraction?” she challenged him.
“A delightful distraction,” he argued. “You regularly practice self-discipline, and the child is happy as long as he is fed and changed regularly.”
Though a bit of hope had lodged in her chest, she attempted to deny his words. “Mr. Sustar would never permit it.”
“We do not know that to be true until someone approaches the man. Sustar is benefiting from the orders I promised him. I imagine my man of business knows something of persuasion. The women Mr. Sustar uses to hem the draperies can do so from his shop, but you, for the immediate future, will complete the embroidery from your home, and, if such does not suit Sustar, we might start our own seamstress house. I own fifteen houses that require the items we discussed previously. We can hire in a few others to execute the stitch work. Whatever you think is most important. If others in the area learn a lord has employed you to update his properties, more work will flow in. I guarantee it. I am rarely wrong on such matters.”
“Why do you insist on being my guardian angel?” she asked softly.
“I ask myself that same question often,” he admitted. “The only answer that comes readily to mind is I can do nothing less.”
They were quiet then until they reached his house. Once he had set her down, she rushed into the house, saying, “I wish to see the boy.” He heard her speaking to those in the kitchen, but Benjamin did not follow; instead he waited for Brunswick to walk up from the mews.
“Once his office opens, I wish you to carry a message to Mr. Froschele. I will write it now and leave it on the salver for you to retrieve. I have been thinking about what you said of Mr. Sustar. I see no reason Miss Whitchurch must be made to work overnight when she has time during the day for both the boy and her work,” he explained.
“If Sustar desires more of my business, then he must see reason.”
Brunswick bowed. “For what it is worth, all your servants totally agree. I am happy to serve you in any way you have a need of me, my lord.”
Benjamin made his way into the house through a side door and went first to his study to write his note before he told Patterson to start the breakfast set up.
“Miss Whitchurch told Cook that the lady was not hungry, my lord,” Patterson said tentatively.
“The lady had a horrendous night, but she will see reason once she has assured herself of the boy’s safety. I will bring her and the child around while you prepare the service.”
“Yes, my lord.” Patterson rushed away to do Benjamin’s bidding.
Meanwhile, Thompson made his way to the connecting door between the two houses.
He knocked, but did not wait for someone to admit him.
He found Miss Whitchurch teasing the boy with a feather, like one of those that women wore in their hair, and he wondered where she had come by it, for he doubted she had attended even a country assembly in more years than was appropriate.