Chapter 23
“Pain?” repeated Wrexford. “As in discomfort?” A grunt. “Which is exactly what I’m experiencing at the moment, as in hunger gnawing away at my stomach.”
Charlotte had been waiting impatiently in his workroom for his return from Woolwich, and despite his grumbling about missing supper, she had insisted on telling him about her encounter with Duff Murray.
“Stop bellyaching,” she chided. “I told Mac to bring in a cold collation here as soon as you arrived. It should be here momentarily. As for the name of the society associated with the rings, I’m sure it gave Murray some measure of satisfaction that the word was open to interpretation.
” She brushed an errant lock of hair off her cheek.
“But to me there’s no question as to its meaning.
I sent a note to Alison, and she confirmed with her Scottish friend that there is a radical group based in St. Andrews named the Paine Society—as in Thomas Paine.
Its existence is known, but the members have managed to maintain their anonymity despite our government’s efforts to hunt them down. ”
Wrexford nodded. “Thomas Paine,” he repeated. “Born in England, immigrated to America, where his pamphlet titled Common Sense made him the firebrand voice for their revolution against us.”
“Not to speak of his ardent support for the French and their revolution,” she added. “On his return to Britain, he authored another pamphlet, The Rights of Man—”
“Which earned him a conviction for seditious libel, though he escaped the wrath of the government, and quite likely the hangman’s noose, by fleeing to France,” he finished. “His thinking then turned even more radical.”
The clatter of cutlery announced the arrival of the earl’s sustenance.
Charlotte rose and went to stand by the hearth while McClellan bustled in and set the tray of food on the earl’s desk.
Though curiosity was writ plain on her face as to what they were discussing, after a quick look at their fraught expressions, she backed away to the doorway. “Unless you need anything else …”
“Thank you, Mac,” murmured Wrexford, the knife and fork already in hand. “This is a godsend.”
“We both know that Baz espouses radical thoughts on the monarchy and the rights of people to govern themselves through a democracy,” said Charlotte, once they were alone again. “And Scotland, which resents English rule, has a great many people chafing at the bit to gain independence.”
“You think that Baz is a member of the Paine Society?” asked Wrexford.
“And that the organization was in some way involved in the Lisbon Conspiracy with the objective of destabilizing the British government, and perhaps causing enough chaos for the Scots to rise up and throw off the yoke of tyranny?”
“I have been pondering it all afternoon,” she said softly, “and I can’t come up with any other alternative that makes sense.”
“Alas, I have to agree.” He sliced off a morsel of cold roast beef. “By the by, it was clever of you to confront Murray, though the tactic could end up being a two-edged sword. He now knows we are aware of the rings.”
“I thought of that, Wrex,” answered Charlotte.
“The fact that you were attacked after meeting with the former manager of the Soho Mint indicates that the Paine Society already sees you as a threat. Remember, Mr. Sykes was interviewed by someone wearing a heart-and-dagger signet ring the week before he met with you. So I don’t think the danger is any greater. ”
She picked up the poker and stirred the glowing coals to life. “I have no idea how Baz fits into the Lisbon Conspiracy—the fact that he’s been so furtive isn’t a good sign—but the only way we can be of any help is to convince him to be honest with us.”
Wrexford watched a tiny orange-gold flame flicker to life from the ashes of the coals.
“Fletcher Campbell’s murder has made Griffin intent on re-examining his old investigation into the counterfeiting gang,” continued Charlotte. “We know how meticulous he is, and in the event he uncovers new information that leads where we fear it might …”
“You are of the opinion that Baz will be in danger of arrest and a lengthy prison sentence for sedition—if not the death penalty.”
“Aren’t you?” she replied.
He pushed aside the rest of his plate untouched. “Yes. And it terrifies me. For it’s not just the past but the present that concerns me.”
Charlotte closed her eyes for an instant. “You can’t think he’s involved in … murder. He was the one who alerted us to the mark of the missing ring on Fletcher Campbell’s finger.”
“I—I don’t know what to think,” admitted Wrexford
“All the more reason to confront Baz as quickly as possible.” She swallowed hard. “And hope that we can find some way to save his neck.”
He slowly rose, looking as if both his body and spirit were feeling heavy as lead. “You’re right—let us not waste another moment.”
Henning’s residence was dark as a crypt, and as they crossed the hardscrabble yard behind the surgeon’s mortuary shed, Charlotte feared that her confrontation with Murray had caused their friend to panic and flee.
The tenseness in Wrexford’s shoulders as he reached out to try the latch of the kitchen entrance indicated that he shared her worry.
The door, however, swung open.
She wasn’t quite sure why, but she eased the pocket pistol from her coat pocket and thumbed it to half-cock. A muted click indicated that Wrexford had done the same.
“Baz?” he called softly. The only reply was the faint whisper of his words echoing back at them.
Charlotte felt around on the table for flint and steel, then struck a spark to a candle. A half-empty mug of tea sat beside a plate with a crust of bread.
Wrexford signaled toward the sitting room and took the lead in moving quietly across the planked floor.
It, too, was empty, but Charlotte released a pent-up breath on seeing the usual chaos of papers, books, and unwashed clothing scattered helter-pelter across the cramped space. The earl quickly checked the bedchamber and returned looking slightly relieved.
“It doesn’t appear that Baz has scarpered,” he observed.
“He’s often away at all hours when a medical crisis strikes within the rookeries,” said Charlotte.
“All we can say for sure is that he’s not here now,” replied Wrexford.
After looking around at the spectral shadows— Charlotte couldn’t help feeling an icy chill slither down her spine—he added, “The damnable pieces on this chessboard of an investigation keep shifting. I think we should we return home and give careful consideration to our next moves.”
Raven tiptoed out of the pantry, holding the plate of ginger biscuits as still as possible.
McClellan and Tyler were having a late-night tête-à-tête at the kitchen table, and given their hushed whispers and the bottle of Scottish whisky between them, he didn’t wish to be caught up in yet another intrigue.
And besides, there was a house rule forbidding forays into the larders after midnight.
Granted, in the hierarchy of Dos and Don’ts, it was low on the list and only earned a tongue-lashing rather than any more serious punishment.
Still, his confidence had been a bit shaken by recent events, and it was a matter of pride not to get caught.
Edging around the aureole of light cast by their lamp, he crept past the storage cupboard and darted into the corridor.
“Well done,” whispered Eddy, who was crouched in the archway leading to the rear of the house. “Riche is locking up the front portal, so we had better return to our rooms by the back stairs.”
“Follow me, and step where I step,” said Raven. “I know where every creak and squeak is located.”
Once they had turned down one of the side corridors, he straightened and offered her a biscuit.
“Thank you for taking the risk.” Crunch, crunch. “I had a sudden craving for sweets, and I haven’t yet learned the fine art of pilfering from the kitchen.”
“I imagine you’ll learn quickly,” said Raven, after wolfing down one of the treats. “You seem to excel at anything you try.”
Eddy blinked in surprise. She hesitated, and then her next words suddenly spilled out in a rush. “Anything except fitting in with the three of you.”
“Of course you fit in,” he mumbled.
“Not really,” she countered. “You do your best to accept my addition to the household with outward good grace, but I sense that at heart you’re not happy with how I have changed the camaraderie of the Weasels.”
“That’s not …” He paused, and his attention suddenly seemed to be elsewhere.
“Not what—”
“Shhh!” he hissed, his gaze on the music room door, which was slightly ajar.
She heard it, too—a slight rattle of the side terrace door latch.
“Go fetch our pistols,” whispered Raven. The weapons were kept in a storage nook within the earl’s workroom library, whose side entrance was just across the corridor. “Make sure they’re loaded.”
Without hesitation, Eddy raced off.
Abandoning the plate of biscuits, Raven ventured a look into the music room and saw two shadowy figures hunched down on the back terrace by the outer door.
Another rattle.
And then one gestured for them to move around the corner, to the back of the townhouse.
Raven gulped in a steadying breath, wondering if the false soldiers had indeed managed to learn that the filthy urchins they had chased were not what they seemed.
“Here—take this.” Eddy returned and slipped his pistol into his hand. “Shall we raise the alarm?”
He thought for an instant. “I’d rather not scare them off. If we capture them, it might give Wrex and m’lady the answers they need to solve Mr. Campbell’s murder.”
Eddy cocked her weapon. “What’s your plan?”
It took only a heartbeat to make the decision. “They’re headed for the tall bank of library windows. You go take cover in the first alcove of bookshelves to keep them from entering the main corridor. I’m going to head outside through the music room and come up on them from behind.”
“Be careful,” she said softly.
“Oiy. You, too.” Once Eddy had moved off, he hurried to the terrace door and quietly released the lock.
Mist swirled through the chill night air. He crept up the shallow set of stairs leading around to the back terrace, and after flattening himself to the decorative stone coping, he ventured a peek around the corner.
The two intruders appeared to have released the window casement’s locking mechanism and were easing it open. The shorter intruder went in first …
Raven crept closer, deciding to wait until the second one climbed in and both were trapped in the room before taking them by surprise.
His palm was a bit sweaty as he tightened his grip on his weapon and ducked low as he approached the opening.
“Drop your weapons and raise your hands!” ordered a shrill voice. “Or I’ll put a bullet through your worthless carcasses!”
“D-Don’t shoot, lassie!” exclaimed a familiar voice.
“Hell’s bells—hold your fire, Eddy!” Raven scrambled over the sill. “Mr. Henning! W-Why are you breaking in through the window rather than knocking on the front door?”
“Because …” The surgeon made a pained face. “We wished to have a clandestine meeting with Wrex on a very confidential subject.”
“Clandestine?” Eddy bit back a laugh. “If you two were trying to be discreet, you were awfully clumsy about it.”
“Show a little respect for your elders,” muttered Henning’s companion.
“Ha, in this household, you have to earn respect, Duff,” said Henning.
Turning to Eddy, he subjected her to a thorough scrutiny before scratching at his bristly jaw and giving a flinty chuckle.
“Wrex was right. You appear to be a force unto yourself, Lady Eddylina.” He held out his hand.
“How very nice to finally make your acquaintance.”
Eddy hesitated and then gestured for Raven to come closer. “Didn’t Hawk warn me never to shake Mr. Henning’s hand?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Not unless you’re willing to be smeared with any number of noxious substances—”
“What the devil is going on here?” Raven’s reply was cut short by a fierce cry from McClellan as she and Tyler burst into the room brandishing kitchen knives.
“It appears we have descended from high drama to pure farce.” Henning heaved a resigned sigh. “Mr. Murray and I had a sudden hankering for your sublime ginger biscuits, Mac. I don’t suppose any have escaped the collective maw of the Weasels?”
Eddy set a hand on her hip. “That would depend on whether you rephrase the question in a more gentlemanly manner.”
“Actually, at this moment, I’m more inclined to toss you and your friend back out the window than to offer you any hospitality,” called Wrexford as he appeared in the doorway and slapped his rain-soaked hat against his thigh.
“Bloody, bloody hell, Baz. Enough foolishness. You have a great deal of explaining to do.”
“Baz and I have already come to that conclusion, milord,” said Murray. He gave a baleful grimace on spotting Charlotte in the earl’s shadow. “After my recent encounter with you, Lady Wrexford, I decided that we needed to tell you the truth before you cut out my liver …”
His eyes widened slightly on hearing Harper growl from the dark depths of the corridor. “And feed it to the great hairy grey beast who is lurking behind you.”