“It’s a shilling,” the barmaid informed her.
“What? Highway robbery, that is.”
I’d already pulled out my small coin purse. “There you are. A bit extra for you too.” I dropped a shilling and tuppence into the barmaid’s palm.
“You shouldn’t pay for the likes of her,” the barmaid advised, though she slid the coins into her apron pocket readily enough. “If she’s troubling you, I’ll have her slung out.”
“I’m simply practicing Christian charity,” I said, a bitprimly. “When you are old and lonely, perhaps someone will standyouan ale and a chat.”
The barmaid scoffed, rolled her eyes, and tramped away, her pockets clinking.
“Such lies you tell,” Hannah said to me with glee. “Christian charity, indeed.” I noted that her cough had magically vanished, and her eyes had dried.
“I do give to those who are less fortunate.” I lifted my teacup again while Hannah sipped her ale. “I would like to think someone would do the same for me if I were on the streets with an empty belly.”
“You always were unnaturally kind.” Hannah took another sip of ale and made a face. “I’m not wrong about it tasting like piss.”
“You were also right about the tea not being much better.” I pushed aside my cup. “What does Daniel do during these meetings? Is he in the room with the conspirators?”
“Not always.” Hannah shook her head. “He has his own chamber next to the master’s study. It’s not a very big room, only enough space for a desk and a bookcase. He’s made to wait there when all the people come. Sometimes his lordship will send for him to bring in a book or another map or to take away some papers. Those papers must not reveal anything, or your man would hand ’em to Scotland Yard quick, wouldn’t he?”
“They are careful.” I traced the knob on the teapot’s lid. The pot needed a good wash, but at least the water was scalding hot. “Do they suspect Daniel of being not what he purports?”
“Don’t seem to. They ignore him, mostly. His lordship calls to him to write letters or take down dictation and send messages to his cronies, but those have nothing to do with villainy that I can tell. I hear sometimes what his lordship dictates, and it’s dull tripe. Like wishing a man’s corns heal up, or how manyshirts to order from his tailor, or recommending a restaurant for a mate’s wife’s birthday.”
“If any of that is code, Daniel will crack it,” I said with conviction. “Is Daniel given envelopes to address? Even if he doesn’t write the letter inside?”
“All the time. No one in that house can be bothered to write a direction themselves. His lordship’s sister—Lady Fontaine, you remember I told you about her—always hands your man things to post and bids him write out all her envelopes. Also thrusts her shopping lists at him to give to the housekeeper, as though she can’t do that herself. Lady Fontaine don’t like anything that comes from a pen done by any but Daniel. Either she’s a clever crook and wants nothing in her own handwriting, or she’s sweet on him.”
I shrugged. “Both could be true.”
Hannah laughed again. “He has a way with him, don’t he? Don’t bother to hide it none either. He’ll use it to charm his way safe, mark my words.”
“As long as it keeps him well, I won’t object.” I could hardly be jealous of a sharp-tongued, penny-pinching ladyship if she wanted to make sheep’s eyes at Daniel.
“Well, ain’t you the one?” Hannah chuckled. “He never mentions you, of course, and he pretends no woman has ever entered his life—he being a skint gentleman what has to take small pay in a rich house. But I see the wistfulness in his eyes sometimes. He misses ya.”
“You are kind to say so.”
Daniel, that master of deception, would never let on, even with a flicker in his gaze, that he was anyone other than he appeared. Hannah was only trying to make me feel better. Daniel would never betray any sort of yearning—would he? I hoped not, for his sake.
“I ain’t being kind,” Hannah said. “The sooner he’s out of that house and back courting you, the better.”
“Do you know what sorts of letters Lady Fontaine writes?” I asked, pretending to ignore her last statement.
“I’ve had a good peek, so yes. More inane things, like ordering gloves or nattering on to a friend how annoying her brother is. Then she walks downstairs and fawns all over his lordship until he gives her more cash for what she’s just sent me off to buy. She likes me to do her shopping for her, lazy old bat.”
“Perhaps she fears to leave the house, in case her creditors are lurking,” I suggested.
“Could very well be. Lady Fontaine got herself into some terrible debt. Part of it wasn’t her fault—her husband left her destitute and owed many people on top of that. But she don’t cease purchasing stockings, ribbons, hats—oh, so many hats—handmade shoes, shawls, and whatnot. I think Lady Fontaine sends me because she knows she’ll be tempted to pinch a few odds and sods if she goes into a shop. She knows she can’t help herself.”
“Daniel addressed a batch of envelopes that turned out to contain blackmail letters,” I said, as though this were nothing remarkable. “Could Lady Fontaine have written them?”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “Blackmail letters?” She stared at me in astonishment. “Doesn’t your Daniel know who wrote them?”
“Possibly not,” I said. “If they were handed to him already sealed.”
Hannah contemplated this a moment, then she shook her head. “I don’t think Lady Fontaine would have anything to do with that. She’s happy to criticize other ladies, great and small, and gossips like mad, but I can’t picture her sitting down andorganizing something as intricate as blackmail. Lady Fontaine’s like an impatient teakettle, steam boiling from her at any provocation. Blackmailing takes a cool head and a calculating mind. Lady Fontaine has neither.”
