Chapter 21
“Hmmph.” Wrexford leaned back in his chair, steepling his forefingers and tapping them to the point of his chin.
He had headed to the Royal Institution after parting with Sheffield and hadn’t returned to Berkeley Square until after the supper hour.
Knowing that both Charlotte and Raven were watching him through the flickers of lamplight, he was intent on giving them no hint of his reaction to what he had just heard.
Tap-tap. The rhythmic gesture stirred a swirl of shadows. In truth, he wasn’t quite sure what to think.
As Charlotte had pointed out, the presence of Raven’s would-be killer in Egg’s shop could have been mere coincidence.
A great many members of the beau monde purchased firearms from Durs and Joseph Egg.
And yet, the fact that Jack MacArthur— or Campbell—was inextricably linked to a tangled tale of greed, cunning, and betrayal made it hard to accept that the incident had an innocent explanation.
“If the false soldier went to the gun shop because he heard that you had hired Mr. Egg’s new engraving assistant as a drawing master, he might begin to look closely …” Raven paused to steady his voice. “… too closely at our family.”
“That’s true, lad. But so are a great many other scenarios,” replied the earl. To Charlotte, he added, “I’ve asked Kit to accompany me to the warehouse where Perkins and his group are working—we’re due to leave shortly. McArthur should know whether anyone was asking uncomfortable questions of Egg.”
“Hell’s bells,” she muttered. “I wish I could insist on coming along. But MacArthur is too observant for me to risk him recognizing me.”
Wrexford gave a grim nod. “With so many unknowns, every step we take entails a damnable risk. All we can do at this point is tread as carefully as possible—”
“And try not to stumble over some unseen viper,” announced Sheffield as he walked into the earl’s workroom. Oddly enough, noted the earl, he appeared to be smiling.
“You needn’t sound so bloody cheerful about the possibility,” replied Wrexford.
“Good cheer is important. I’ve decided that we can’t allow dark deeds to dim all the light and goodness around us.” Sheffield allowed his smile to stretch a little wider. “Never fear, we’ll cut through the Gordian knot of intrigue and deception.” A pause. “We always do.”
“Don’t take Lady Luck for granted,” said Charlotte softly.
“Wise counsel.” Wrexford checked the priming of his pistol before rising and reaching for his coat. “Let’s be off, Kit,” he added as Sheffield started for the tray of decanters on the work counter. “Libations will have to wait until later. We have work to do.”
As if mirroring the earl’s unsettled mood, a fitful rain began to fall in starts and stops throughout the carriage ride east, the chill drops prickling like icy needles against his face as he descended to make the short walk through the alleyways to the warehouse.
Hammering his fist against the iron-banded oak door helped dispel some of his simmering frustrations, By the time Perkins unlocked the door, he had the worst of his temper under control.
“Come, warm yourselves by the stove,” said the American after taking their coats. “We’ve a kettle and can make some tea.”
“I’d prefer to forgo drawing room niceties and get down to business. Is MacArthur here?”
“Jack!” called Perkins over the din of the spinning rose engine and clattering printing press.
“Might I have a private word with you?” asked Wrexford when MacArthur appeared from one of the side rooms, though his tone made it clear that it wasn’t a request.
“We are working on some preliminary sample banknotes and will aim to refine them by the deadline for submitting entries to your committee, Mr. Sheffield,” said Perkins. “Would you care to see them?”
Sheffield readily agreed, and the two of them moved off to the far end of the building, leaving Wrexford and MacArthur alone.
“A man was in your shop this past afternoon,” began the earl without preamble. He quickly repeated the description that Raven had given him. “Did he request to speak with Egg?”
“I—I don’t think so, sir. Mr. Egg went straight to meet with one of our woodworkers as soon as he finished making arrangements for Lady Eddylina and Master Sloane’s next shooting lesson. And then he left to meet with the man who sells us the silver for embellishing our weapons.”
“Do you know whether the man I described spoke with anyone else in the shop?” pressed Wrexford.
MacArthur shook his head. “I—I become so engrossed in my work that I often need a physical nudge to bring me back to the present moment.”
Having watched Charlotte at work, the earl understood that all too well.
“I think …” He considered his sudden decision for a moment longer before continuing.
“I think it imperative that you leave your position at Egg’s workshop and move in with Perkins.
” A pause. “Indeed, I shall arrange for more secure quarters for all of you and a more private way of traveling to and from this warehouse.”
MacArthur went pale. “You think the man who murdered my uncle has discovered my presence?”
“I would rather be safe than sorry,” replied Wrexford.
“I will have a word with Egg and explain that circumstances required your immediate departure,” he added.
“He’s a fellow of excellent discretion and knows me well enough not to ask questions.
I’ll also ask him to alert me if anyone seeks to question him about you. ”
“You think my past has caught up with me.” It was more a statement than a question.
“As I said, I don’t know,” said Wrexford. “But for now, let’s assume the worst.”
His normal stoicism dissolving in a sudden show of emotion, MacArthur sat down rather heavily on one of the coal barrels and blinked back tears. “I am so, so sorry for all the harm I have caused.”
“You were a child,” responded the earl, warming up a little to the young man, who until now, had struck him as a bit of a cold fish.
“Even as a child, I sensed that there was something wrong about what I was doing. I knew my uncle disapproved of it, and that meant a lot to me, as he was really the person who raised me. But my father had a way of making everything seem like a grand lark. His men adored and admired him, and I, too, craved his approval.”
With a swipe of his sleeve, MacArthur blotted the wetness from his cheeks. “And so I made myself believe the Banbury tale that he told me—that my engravings were just part of an elaborate jest that he was playing on one of his friends.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” growled Wrexford. “In my opinion, it was a despicable ruse for a father to play on his son. He knew the consequences—and the fact that if caught, you, too, would go to the gallows.”
“My uncle always muttered that my father had the devil’s own luck in wiggling out of trouble.”
“That’s the sort of blessing that inevitably turns into a curse,” observed Wrexford.
He, too, took a seat. “I have reason to believe that your uncle, fearing for your safety if the authorities discovered your father’s criminal activities, made a plan to get you to safety.
He created a set of signet rings for himself and three trusted friends, and showed you the symbol, telling you to trust without question anyone who wore one of the rings. ”
The earl paused. “Is that true?”
A nod. “It all happened in a blur, milord,” whispered MacArthur.
“Uncle Fletcher woke me in the dead of night and carried me off through the alleyways behind the building where we lived. I could hear shouting and shots … and then, amid the chaos and confusion, he showed me a ring engraved with a heart and crossed daggers … he said that I was to trust my life to anyone who showed me an identical ring. Before I could ask any questions, I found myself handed off to a stranger.”
He leaned forward, covering his face with his hands.
“I was shoved into a crate and placed in a cart. It rattled on for hours—I lost track of time and fell into a daze. Another exchange, with another show of a ring, was made. And then, after the third man with a ring took charge of me, I was told that I was no longer Jack Campbell but Jack MacArthur, and would soon be safely on my way to a new country and a new life, where nobody would have any knowledge of my past.”
A sigh. “The next thing I knew, I was on a ship with a kindly family immigrating to America, who had agreed to escort an orphan to his relatives. It landed in Boston, and I was handed off to a silversmith, who took me in as his apprentice without any questions. After several years, illness forced him to retire and move in with with his son, and so he arranged for me to go live and work with Mr. Perkins.”
“Do you recall the name of any of the three men who showed you a signet ring?” asked Wrexford.
“I did ask, sir, but was told it was best that I didn’t know,” answered MacArthur.
As Wrexford took a moment to think about what he had just heard, he suddenly recalled several things that Griffin had told him about the investigation into the Lisbon Conspiracy … and all at once, some of the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together in his head.
“Several of your father’s men tried to win a reprieve from the gallows by saying that the real mastermind of the counterfeiting scheme hadn’t been caught.
However, they couldn’t provide any useful evidence, and the authorities dismissed it as a desperate ploy,” said the earl.
“Your father refused to answer any questions and took the truth with him to the grave.”
MacArthur’s face had taken on a spectral paleness.
“I think there was a mastermind,” continued Wrexford, “and now he sees a golden opportunity to make another fortune as the government and banks are looking for new technologies to print banknotes.”
A pause. “Furthermore, I think he murdered your uncle in hopes of finding you. The time for secrets is over, MacArthur.”
“H-How can I help?”