Mr.Fielding barked a laugh. “There are plenty corrupt members of the clergy in the world, I assure you. Compared to many of them, I am a saint. But I take your point. I can offer complete discretion, if they will trust me. I am only interested in uncovering a quivering, cowardly blackmailer, not exposing the ladies’ secrets.” He paused. “Do not say that dear Lady Cynthia, the trouser-wearing, splendid young woman, has received one?”
“She has not,” I could answer. “Nor has her friend Lady Roberta.”
“No? That is interesting. But a relief. Lady Cynthia’s book-learned genius young man might try to defend her honor in some fashion and come to grief. Not Lady Roberta, you say? No letters to her brother threatening to shame him for his sister’s behavior? Not that Lady Roberta is very secretive about her life. I admire her for that.” Mr.Fielding beamed his approval.
“Her brother and sister-in-law have not received any, as far as I know,” I answered. “Miss Townsend has, but her letter did not mention Lady Roberta. Miss Townsend regarded the letter she received as a tasteless joke.”
“Ah, the formidable Miss Townsend. I ever pity she has no interest in the male of the species, or I’d be tempted to offer her the position as vicar’s wife. Not that she’d hasten to trade her luxurious home in Mayfair for a cramped vicarage in the East End.”
“Quite so,” I agreed. “The letter was horrible, but Miss Townsend took it in her stride. I’ll wager, as she lives unconventionally, that she is not a stranger to them, which is sad. Several of her friends have had letters—I can ask Lady Cynthia if they’d be willing to let us compare them.”
Mr.Fielding looked thoughtful. “We must ask ourselves why Lady Cynthia and Lady Roberta have not beenthreatened. What do the other ladies have in common that those two do not share?”
“I have been wondering about that.” I’d made lists in my notebook, but again, I could hardly consult it here. “Miss Townsend and the other two are connected to important men, either by marriage or other relation. Lady Roberta’s father is an earl but doesn’t do much in the way of politics. Her brother has his own circle, but no real power, according to Lady Cynthia. Cynthia’s father won’t go near the House of Lords—he finds it appallingly dull. That does not explain though why her sister was sent one.”
Mr.Fielding stared at me in some shock. “The deceased sister?”
“Yes, it is most strange.”
“I’d say that was the strangest fact of all.” Mr.Fielding shot Lord Nelson another assessing look, then took my arm again. “We have stood here too long. Let us get you home. You quiz Lady Cynthia on whether I can have a butcher’s at a few of the letters. If it’s a scheme hatched by a confidence trickster I know, I can have a word with the bastard.”
I did not like to ponder about what state the blackmailer would be in once Mr.Fielding was finished with him.
“I will welcome your help, Mr.Fielding,” I said warmly. “But please do not get yourself arrested.”
Mr.Fielding’s laughter was filled with true mirth. “I never do, my dear Mrs.Holloway. I never do.”
* * *
I entered the kitchen of Mount Street not long later, in time to help Tess finish the supper for the Bywaters and Cynthia. Later, when Lady Cynthia breezed out through the below-stairs entrance to join her friends, I asked whether she’d have a wordwith Miss Townsend about showing Mr.Fielding some of the letters.
“Fielding, eh?” Cynthia had already adopted the masculine mannerisms she’d use throughout the night. “Excellent idea—he might know a thing or two. I’ll ask Judes. Good night. Don’t wait up.”
She grinned as she swept past, her eyes alight.
“Wish I could rush about so free and easy,” Tess said as we stacked used pots in a pile in order to scrub off the work table. “I hope she won’t be too reckless.”
“We do not need Lady Cynthia in trouble with the law, no,” I agreed. “Let us set up the bread and prepare for tomorrow. I have a new dish for us to try. I found ever so many pears and apples. You will see.”
I set the fruit I’d bought from Hannah—who knew how she’d obtained it—on the dresser then collected peppers and onions in the larder and left them in a bowl for chopping the next day. Tess and I continued our labors, then I sent her up early, as she’d been working hard today on her own.
Once alone, I retrieved my notebook and opened it to my notes on Daniel’s case. I wrote the names Hannah had given me, making neat lines between them.
I jotted down Hannah’s observations, and also Mr.Fielding’s, but I would need more information.
This did not worry me. I’d lived in Mount Street for a few years now, and I’d come to know who lived in nearly every house in Mayfair, as well as north across Oxford Street and south into Belgravia.
I also knew what cooks and maids worked in which house. They’d know what went on above stairs—who visited whom, and their views on every issue in the land. Mr.Davis was acquainted with most of the butlers and other manservants, andI could recruit him to tell me a few things if I could not find out via the kitchens.
The servants’ gossip network in London could outdo spies for the queen any day.
I made more notes on the pages where I’d listed whom had received blackmail letters—Miss Townsend, her friends Delia and Viola, and Lady Rankin—with a query to find out more about what the victims had in common. So far, with the exception of Lady Rankin, they all belonged to Miss Townsend’s set. However, others in Mayfair might have received them as well, unbeknownst to Miss Townsend. Letters like these were not ones a lady boasted to her acquaintances about.
I also wondered whether any gentlemen, who’d be even more reluctant to speak, had been gifted with such letters. Mr.Fielding, in his role of ingenuous but kindly vicar, might be of help in that regard.
Satisfied I’d done all I could for the day, I tucked my notebook into my pocket and climbed the many stairs to my chamber in the attic. I fell into bed, exhausted, but dreamed of Mr.Monaghan pursuing Grace, Daniel, and me through narrow London streets, while incendiaries rained upon us.
I woke too early, rattled, and rushed through my ablutions to return to the kitchen, hoping that hard work would take my mind off things.
