Chapter 25 #2
“That will do splendidly.” I’d read it over and make my notes before I went to bed tonight. “By the by, how is Mr. Thanos?”
I spoke as off-handedly as I could, but Cynthia knew exactly what I meant.
“Thanos is brilliant, absentminded, and absolutely lovely. Has he announced he’s potty in love and proposed to me? No. Has he taken me into his arms and kissed me? Assuredly not.”
“Oh.” I tried not to be disappointed. Mr. Thanos would always be every inch the gentleman. “He will come round.”
“I’m not so certain. Thanos is very conscious that he is poor and I’m the daughter of an aristocrat.
You would not gather that from his speech and manner, but whenever we laugh over some joke or other absurdity, and he forgets himself for a moment, he instantly pulls back.
He knows that anything more than friendship between us will not be approved of. ”
“You are two grown people who ought to make your own decision about who to be with,” I said heatedly. “Your father would be delighted to have Mr. Thanos attached to your family.”
“Pa, yes. My mother, I’m not certain. My aunt, decidedly not, though Uncle likes Thanos very much.
But Thanos is rather in awe of all of them and afraid to ruffle feathers.
” Cynthia thunked down the uneaten half of her scone.
“Just my luck I find a wonderful bloke I don’t mind being with for hours at a time, and he fears he’ll ruin me.
I suppose we are meant to be apart, even while we are right next to each other. ”
“Very poetic, but rather pessimistic.” I pushed the scone back toward her. “Let me have a think on it. I want to see you both happy.”
“And you are too good to the pair of us.” Cynthia lifted the scone again. “But I will leave it in your capable hands, Mrs. H. If anyone can find their way around our troubles, it will be you.”
* * *
Cynthia’s faith in me was a bit unnerving, but I resolved to help her as best I could.
Once she left me, I sat with Mrs. Davies’s list, scribbling likely names into my notebook, noting my thoughts on each.
When I started to droop, I took the list upstairs with me to continue, realizing that Daniel would not come that night.
I’d learned that if he did not appear by a little after midnight, he’d leave me to rest.
I drew no solid conclusions from Mrs. Davies’s information. However, I had enough notes on it that when Cynthia returned to the kitchen early the next afternoon, in a frock this time, I handed over the list, though I asked that she return it when finished.
Cynthia, more cheerful today, promised she would and breezed away.
For the rest of the day, Tess and I cooked and baked, and I tried new fillings for my hand tarts—apples with cinnamon, pears with walnuts.
In the winter, I could make them with citrus and spice, and in early summer, strawberries and then raspberries and blackberries would be ripe and plentiful. I looked forward to it.
Then I realized that by the time raspberries appeared by the basketfuls in all the markets, I’d be married.
It caused a strange sensation, thinking on that.
I heard nothing from Daniel that day, or Cynthia either. It was difficult to work, knowing that Daniel might be rushing in with the police to the insalubrious area under Blackfriars Bridge. I hoped he’d let those with weapons precede him, but knowing Daniel, he might not.
All I could do was put the word out through my lads to watch out for Daniel.
I also had them keep an eye on James, to restrain him from either joining his father or having Mr. Naismith’s men scoop him up as a hostage against Daniel’s continued cooperation.
I also made certain Albie had someone keep watch on Joanna’s house, who would alert me if any made a move against it or its inhabitants.
Daniel did not return that night, though I waited until one in the morning on the chance he would visit. When he did not, I traipsed to bed but did not sleep well.
On Wednesday afternoon, Daniel delivered a load of salt to my kitchen. I was so relieved to see him alive and well that I nearly missed his whispered promise to return that night when he carried the heavy bag to the larder.
Tess entered from a trip to the market after Daniel departed, her face ruddy with the cold wind, her spirits high.
“Caleb found me at Covent Garden,” she chirped.
“He says the police had one of their biggest raids in years at the docks in Blackfriars. Arrested ever so many, all smugglers and thieves, he says. Inspector McGregor is ever so pleased, not that anyone would notice, the way he growls. Apparently Sergeant Scott went to visit that villain Naismith, but he doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the smuggling. ”
Mr. Naismith had wanted the traitors cleared out of his nest, I could have explained to Scott. He’d been willing to let Daniel and the police do it for him.
Acting Inspector Scott was canny, however, and I was glad he now knew how to put his hands on Naismith. Inspector McGregor or whoever had sent Scott to Naismith was wise—I could never imagine the cool Acting Inspector Scott taking a bribe from a villain.
Caleb had been buoyed by the arrests and had walked up to Covent Garden to calm himself, so he’d said to Tess. I also suspected he knew I now sent Tess there most Wednesdays to procure items for the rest of the week.
When Daniel finally arrived at around ten in the evening, I was ready with a good slice of chop, roasted potatoes, and half a small loaf of bread, as well as another apple cake I’d set aside for him.
Daniel looked astonished at the feast, but he soon tucked in. I resumed my usual place to pour tea.
“I hear that the venture was a success,” I informed him. “I did not divine this—Tess had it from Caleb. Though the satisfied look on your face tells me the same.”
“It was,” Daniel said, pausing his meal long enough to answer.
“We found Draper, his friend Barlow, and many dockworkers who were happy to take Draper’s pay unloading goods from the purloined ships.
Draper and Barlow were both there to supervise today, because they had an unusually good haul of cargo.
Wine, brandy, and a load of rifles. Or so they thought.
” Daniel regarded me in satisfied amusement.
“Perhaps Errol and I led them to believe the cargo coming in was so valuable that Draper felt he should be on hand to oversee the unloading.”
“Clever,” I said. “Did Mr. Fielding become a shipping agent and slip in the false manifest?”
“He did.” Daniel nodded. “You have seen me blend into a character I choose, but I have a limited number of them. Errol can become anyone he pleases at any time, for any reason. It is why I am happy you convinced him to no longer be my rival.”
“I hardly convinced him,” I began. “But never mind that now. Was Mr. Draper questioned? Did he kill Mr. Banks, or have him killed? Are we right that he died because Mr. Draper or one of his men feared Mr. Banks would betray them to you?”
“One question at a time,” Daniel forestalled me. “Yes, we questioned them. McGregor was most thorough, as you know he can be. I only had to insert a few remarks for the men to open up.”
“And what did they say?” I demanded.
Daniel laid down his fork, his face settling into serious lines.
“Draper, Barlow, and every single gent we asked swore up and down they had nothing to do with Banks’s death.
They confessed to everything else—changing the paperwork for the ships, stealing the goods, selling them on, blackmailing those in the shipping offices and on the docks because they’d lost heavily in Draper’s gaming house.
But not to killing Banks. That, every one of them protested, in amazement, no less, they had not done it.
Hadn’t even realized Banks was anywhere near that day.
” Daniel sighed, regarding me limply. “The thing is, Kat, I believe them.”