Chapter 32 #2
Lord Stanley entered at a considerably more leisurely pace than she appreciated. To her annoyance, amusement immediately flickered across his features.
‘I had no notion I occupied your thoughts so thoroughly,’ he replied mildly. ‘What on earth is the matter?’
Instead of answering at once, Charlotte watched him seat himself upon the sofa, leaving an unmistakable space beside him.
She pointedly ignored the invitation and took the armchair opposite instead. She needed a clear head.
‘I spoke to Miss Payne,’ she announced, unable to conceal her excitement.
Lord Stanley looked faintly surprised. ‘And?’
‘Well, she was reluctant at first—but I persevered,’ Charlotte said proudly.
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘I get the distinct impression you bullied the poor girl into submission,’ he replied dryly.
Charlotte fixed him with a gimlet stare.
‘I merely wished you to appreciate the effort involved.’
‘Duly noted.’
She huffed.
‘I discovered the names of Payne’s trusts.’
He sat up ramrod straight. ‘Well, now you have my undivided attention.’
‘Clearly,’ Charlotte replied dryly.
Lord Stanley remained entirely unruffled. ‘Go on.’
Charlotte sat forward triumphantly.
‘Miss Payne told me there are two trusts. One is simply Payne Holdings—which I suspect is the respectable public-facing enterprise. But the second...’ Her voice lowered slightly. ‘She heard her father discussing it frequently whenever his Odd Fellow associates visited.’
His expression sharpened.
‘And?’
‘Rose and Thorns Trust.’
For the first time, Lord Stanley looked genuinely astonished.
‘Good God,’ he murmured. ‘Do you realise what this means?’
He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. ‘The Bow Street Runners have spent weeks attempting to uncover that information, and you managed it within a single afternoon.’
Charlotte shrugged shyly.
‘I told you. Women talk to me.’
A reluctant smile touched his mouth. ‘You truly ought to work for Bow Street. You would make an excellent investigator.’
‘Do not tempt me,’ Charlotte replied lightly. Then her expression sobered. ‘Did you discover anything further regarding Sir Oswald?’
Lord Stanley leaned back slightly. ‘I did.’
Charlotte’s brow furrowed. ‘Go on.’
‘One of the Bow Street Runners successfully traced a foreman involved in the repairs after the fire. The man confessed that Sir Oswald gave specific instructions regarding the concealed passageways.’
Charlotte looked unconvinced. ‘But Oswald is an architect. He could have been acting under instructions from Matthew Stanley. That does not necessarily prove involvement with the Odd Fellows.’
‘Ordinarily, no. But herein lies the difficulty: the passageways were constructed before Matthew Stanley ever arrived at Alderley.’
A memory surfaced instantly in Charlotte’s mind.
‘The night Matthew Stanley was murdered, Wolverton spoke of the Odd Fellows establishing operations at Alderley Estate,’ she said quietly.
Lord Stanley’s mouth hardened into a grim line. ‘Which means they had prepared for this long in advance—with every expectation that Matthew Stanley would eventually become one of their puppets.’
Charlotte slowly turned back towards him.
‘Then Sir Oswald must know something about the Odd Fellows.’
‘At the very least,’ Lord Stanley agreed quietly.
Charlotte thought of the strange symbols concealed within the passageways—and upon the mysterious black book.
‘But is he the Falcon?’ she asked slowly. ‘The third Grand Fellow?’
Lord Stanley exhaled. ‘It is possible.’
‘But he seems so soft,’ Charlotte protested. ‘Timid. Blustering.’
‘Appearances can be deceiving. It could all be an act,’
Charlotte grimaced faintly. The thought disturbed her more than she cared to admit. She had trusted her instincts regarding Sir Oswald completely.
Lord Stanley rose slowly and crossed towards the fireplace. For a moment he stood there in silence, one arm resting against the mantelpiece.
‘And what of Hamilton’s shipping investments?’ she asked at last. ‘Did you discover under what name the company operates?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ He paused. ‘Regardless, we finally possess enough information to act. After tomorrow evening’s ball, I shall make the arrests and put an end to this business.’
He released a slow breath.
‘Thank you, Miss Walker. I do not know how I would have solved this without your help.’
Charlotte stared at him, unexpectedly moved.
He looked away briefly before continuing in a quieter voice.
‘I shall be relieved when all this is over. Then you and I...’
The words faltered unfinished.
Charlotte’s heart stumbled strangely. Of course, he was speaking of how they might quietly end their engagement once this was over. A painful lump formed in her throat.
‘We can decide what is to become of us after the ball,’ he said at last, though an unusual hesitation entered his voice. ‘Whatever the outcome...’
Again, he did not finish.
For one suspended moment, he simply looked at her—as though he wished to say something more and thought better of it. Then, with visible effort, he stepped back.
‘I should go.’
He left rather abruptly, leaving Charlotte staring after him in confusion.
‘What on earth was the matter with him?’ she muttered aloud to the now empty room.
She blew out a weary breath and rubbed the back of her neck.
A strange heaviness settled inside her chest. Their false engagement would soon end—and for reasons she preferred not to examine too closely, the thought pained her.
Charlotte pressed a hand lightly against her chest, attempting to soothe the unfamiliar ache.
It was for the best. He would marry Miss Pearson, whilst she would return to her quiet life as a spinster in some remote cottage. Yet for the first time, that future no longer appealed to her.
At the very least, once the ball concluded, the guests would finally depart and Alderley would no longer feel like a nest of vipers. Some semblance of peace might return to the estate.
And yet unease continued to gnaw at her.
Something still did not fit.
Too many questions remained unanswered. How were the girls taken without anyone noticing?
Who were the lesser members serving beneath the Grand Fellows—the men scouting victims and arranging disappearances?
There had to be dozens involved, judging by the sheer scale of Payne’s operations. Then there was the black book.
Perhaps the answers would come once arrests were made.
Yet somehow, Charlotte doubted matters would prove so simple.
Feeling restless, she retrieved the folded parchment Matthew Stanley had once pressed into her keeping—the page she had hidden beneath her mattress ever since.
The cipher key.
She unfolded it once more and stared down at the blank page.
Nothing.
As though the thing mocked her.
With a weary sigh, she tucked it absently into the pocket of her nightgown before climbing into bed, grateful at least for the warmth of the bedpan.