Chapter 7 #4
Kit nodded. “It took courage to lie in wait and tell us. If we leave him in the household, most likely the sons will work out who spoke against them and beat him as badly as he fears before throwing him out. They sound the vindictive sort.”
“Indeed. But now, thanks to Ollie, we have the evidence to put the fear of gaol into the Stenshaw boys—at least as far as attacking the school goes.”
The look Kit sent her was keenly anticipatory. With a graceful gesture, he waved her back to Mrs. Stenshaw’s door.
After Kit informed the maid that her mistress would not appreciate what they had to say being bruited about in the street, their second interview with the old besom was conducted in her drawing room.
Courtesy of Ollie’s information, this interview went very much more satisfactorily than the one before.
Sylvia listened appreciatively as Kit informed Mrs. Stenshaw that a credible eyewitness had come forward and was prepared to swear that he’d seen her sons, Cedric and James, lay the fire at the rear of the school and set it alight.
Kit went on, “The witness’s description matches what was found at the scene, verifying his information. The witness’s testimony is more than sufficient to see your sons taken up for trespass and arson.”
Seated poker straight in an armchair, Mrs. Stenshaw’s expression had shifted from belligerent resistance and recalcitrance to one of dawning horror. Weakly, she said, “No—I can’t believe it.”
“If you wish to verify our witness’s information, I suggest you ask to see your household’s lamp oil jar.” Kit’s tone held no hint of softness. “If you ask, you’ll discover it was emptied this afternoon, but not by any of your staff. Indeed, the jar might not even be back in the house.”
As if finally accepting the seriousness of what her sons now faced, Mrs. Stenshaw’s granite-like facade cracked, and she reached out a hand. “You would take my sons from me?”
Sylvia watched as Kit held Mrs. Stenshaw’s gaze, then without giving the slightest sign of weakening his stance, he stated, “In light of the school being new to the area, we are hesitant to press charges.”
Sylvia blinked, but she trusted him enough to make no protest.
He glanced swiftly at her, read her acquiescence—at least for the moment—then looked back at Mrs. Stenshaw and, his tone hardening, continued, “However, should there be any further trouble visited on the school—of any sort whatsoever—we will assume that you and your sons have failed to learn the lessons of this current incident and are, once again, to blame.” He straightened, his features as coldly forbidding as Mrs. Stenshaw’s had ever been.
“In such circumstances, we will have no hesitation in laying the evidence now in our hands before the magistrates and pursuing the matter to the point of seeing both your sons behind bars.”
Sylvia pressed her palms together to refrain from applauding.
Kit capped his performance with a direct demand. “Is that clear?”
Mrs. Stenshaw looked like she’d sucked three lemons, but she swallowed and croaked, “Yes, my lord.”
“Excellent.” Kit stood and held out his hand to Sylvia. As she grasped it and rose, he nodded curtly to Mrs. Stenshaw. “Good day, madam. We’ll see ourselves out.”
He escorted Sylvia from the room, and the maid—who from her expression had been listening at the door and had found the exchange heartening—smiled and bobbed them from the house.
Sylvia paused on the porch, and Kit halted beside her. When the door shut behind them, she drew in a huge breath, then met his eyes and smiled widely. “That was…” She couldn’t find the words.
He grinned. “Immensely satisfying.”
“Yes!” She started down the steps, and he fell in beside her.
He held the gate for her, then followed her through. “I predict the school will have no further trouble.”
“Not from that quarter, at any rate. Or for that matter, from the rest of the street.” Feeling jaunty and carefree, Sylvia walked toward the mouth of the runnel.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, Kit ambled beside her. “If one were so inclined, you could view that—the intangible ongoing protection the school has gained—as the silver lining to today’s cloud.”
Sylvia slanted him a bright smile. “Indeed, one could.” She paused and beamed at Ollie, waiting inside the entrance to the runnel with a bundle at his feet. “Along with this young man. Well, Ollie, are you ready to start your new life?”
Ollie grinned up at her. “Yes, please, miss.”
“In that case”—Kit waved him to the hackney—“lead the way.”
As Ollie scampered ahead of them, Kit looked at Sylvia, drank in the bubblingly happy smile that lit her face, then he offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
She slipped her arm through his. “Let’s shall.”
They strode for the hackney beside which Ollie was now waiting.
Kit helped Sylvia up, then nodded for Ollie to get in and followed. After he and Sylvia had settled Ollie between them, Kit called to the driver to take them to Sylvia’s lodgings.
Thoroughly satisfied with his day, he sat back as the carriage rocked toward the city. And he still had seeing Sylvia to her door to look forward to, before taking himself and his new bootboy-cum-message-runner home.