Chapter 31 #2
‘Even so,’ he continued thoughtfully, ‘I noticed something peculiar the other evening. Whenever Payne spoke, Oswald became remarkably quiet. Not politely quiet—immediately so. Like a man accustomed to being corrected.’
‘You think he fears Payne?’
‘Yes,’ Lord Stanley replied carefully. ‘Even Fraser deferred to Payne. Like a subordinate obeying a superior.’
Charlotte stilled.
Had they finally found the Falcon?
For one suspended moment, she and Lord Stanley simply looked at one another.
‘It would appear that we have sufficient reason to suspect Payne may indeed be the Falcon—the head of the Odd Fellows,’ she said carefully.
Charlotte could scarcely believe it, feeling at once relieved and deeply unsettled by the discovery.
He gave a slow nod of agreement before asking, ‘I wonder why they meet here each year with their families, no less?’
‘I suspect these creepy fellows have been engaged in villainy together for years,’ she replied indignantly. ‘No doubt they gather annually to conduct their business meetings and devise fresh ways to be evil beneath the respectable disguise of a house party.’
‘I believe they are called the Odd Fellows. “Creepy Fellows” would be rather too obvious a name, do you not think?’ he replied with a smirk.
‘Well, whatever they choose to call themselves,’ she said, her lips twitching, ‘the devil ought to thank them for sparing him the effort.’
‘Unfortunately for them, the devil did not account for you.’
Charlotte suppressed a smile.
‘Do you think all their businesses are merely fronts for the Odd Fellows’ operations?’ she asked slowly.
‘Yes. I am almost certain of it. Thanks to you, we finally have the missing pieces necessary to connect everything.’
Lord Stanley’s expression sharpened with grim understanding. ‘No merchant acquires that many warehouses unless goods are moving constantly through them.’
The implications struck Charlotte with dreadful clarity.
‘If Hamilton controls the shipping routes,’ he continued slowly, ‘then Payne’s warehouses become holding points.’
Lord Stanley’s knuckles whitened against the armchair.
‘It seems hundreds—if not thousands—of girls have been transported through their commercial network,’ he said quietly. ‘Warehouses to ships. Ships to plantations abroad.’
Charlotte swallowed hard. ‘I wondered how such a steady stream of girls could disappear without anyone noticing. But Wolverton practically admitted they choose girls with no family connections. No one important enough to raise alarm.’
‘Precisely. Since the crackdown upon the brothels and coastal operations led by Lord Armitage, they have adapted by selecting their victims more carefully. Once the girls are out of the country, they become almost impossible to trace. Particularly if they are being moved through established slave routes.’
‘That is why they were so troubled by the abolition efforts,’ Charlotte whispered.
‘The Slave Trade Act of 1807, achieved largely through Wilberforce’s campaigning, abolished the slave trade throughout the British Empire. Yet elsewhere—particularly under Napoleon—the buying and selling of slaves remains in high demand.’
A dreadful heaviness settled in her chest as the true scale of it became clear.
‘So the Odd Fellows simply went underground on English soil,’ she said quietly.
Lord Stanley nodded grimly.
‘Of course. If Britain abolishes slavery entirely, international pressure would follow. That must be why they seek to stop Wilberforce’s movement—and why they targeted both myself and Lord Huntley.’
Charlotte’s stomach turned as the truth settled fully into place.
‘If we discover where Payne’s holdings are located—and which ships they are using—it may lead us to some of the girls,’ she said. ‘And perhaps prevent them from using these networks again.’
‘That will prove difficult,’ he admitted, shaking his head.
‘Men like Payne and Hamilton rarely purchase holdings in their own names. They will use trusts, proxy companies, silent investors—anything to conceal the true ownership of those warehouses and ships. Without the names of those entities, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.’
‘So another dead end, then?’ she asked, deflated.
He paused. ‘Not necessarily. Acquisitions of that size leave records somewhere. Harbour fees. Dock registries. Transfer ledgers. If we obtain the names of the companies involved, I may be able to trace them.’ He sighed wearily. ‘I shall make enquiries into Hamilton’s shipping business.’
‘What can I do?’ Charlotte asked, restless with the need to act.
She half expected him to forbid her involvement altogether—to insist the matter had become too dangerous. Instead, she found Lord Stanley regarding her with a faint expression of admiration crossing his features.
‘We have one day remaining before the ball. Continue your enquiries amongst the ladies—particularly Payne’s wife or daughter,’ he said. ‘See whether they know the names of any trusts he may be using.’
‘Well, women do seem to confide in me for some reason. I could certainly give it a try.’ She offered him an impish smile.
He drew in a sharper breath, his gaze dropping—just briefly—to her lips.
Then, rather abruptly, he rose and crossed to the fireplace, resting an arm against the mantelpiece. Charlotte watched him in silence for a moment. He appeared oddly restless, as though steadying himself before speaking.
At length, he spoke. ‘I searched through my father’s belongings, though much was destroyed in the fire. I found nothing.’ A trace of strain entered his voice.
Charlotte’s features softened. ‘I am sorry. That cannot have been easy.’
He looked at her earnestly. ‘How do you do it?’
‘Do what?’
‘Remain so kind, after everything you have endured.’
Charlotte, taken aback, lowered her head shyly.
‘You have lost your father, your home, and your reputation,’ he continued. ‘Yet you still concern yourself with protecting others. Most people would have grown bitter. You did not.’
Emotion rose suddenly in her throat. At the mention of her father, her eyes stung unexpectedly. She clasped her hands together to steady herself before answering.
‘I do it for him,’ she said at last. ‘My father believed one ought never stand idle in the face of injustice. I am merely trying to honour that.’
‘He must have been an extraordinary man. I am very sorry for your loss,’ he said gently.
‘He was. I miss him every day.’
‘He would be proud of you,’ Lord Stanley said softly. ‘As am I.’
The words struck her with surprising force.
‘Tell me about him,’ he asked gently as he sat down on the sofa next to her.
Charlotte drew in a breath, then released it with a grief she had carried for too long.
She felt her burden ease a little as she spoke of her father—and suddenly realised she had not spoken of him since his passing.
She was faintly surprised to discover how comfortable she felt discussing him with the Ice Baron.
How strange.
‘I wish I had such a father,’ he admitted quietly.
‘Well, I suppose God blessed me with him because He knew what sort of mother I would be getting.’
A reluctant smile touched his mouth. ‘Yes, your mother is... quite something. When I went to interview her, she seemed far more interested in matching me with you.’
Charlotte laughed softly. ‘Ah, Mama. She has always possessed a very strong will.’
‘Not as strong as yours, I think. Though the irony of ironies remains that I am engaged to you now...’
A strange peacefulness settled between them. Neither seemed willing to disturb it.
Then at length Lord Stanley rose.
‘I shall take my leave now. Sleep well.’
Charlotte felt a sudden stab of disappointment. For the first time in many years, she found herself reluctant for a conversation to end. She sighed as he softly closed her door.