“You should go to him, in any case. After you drink all this tea and finish your breakfast.” I rose from the bed. “At this point, Mr.Thanos is probably in great anguish, certain he’ll never see you again.”
A gentle light entered Cynthia’s eyes, one that showed me more than she realized. “The poor chap. He’ll never tie his cravat right if he’s upset, or find his lecture notes. He does need me, doesn’t he?”
“Indeed.”And you need him, I added silently.Someone who sees your worth and loves you for who you are.
“I know I’ve torn it.” Cynthia took a gulp of tea. “But fear not. I will put on my prettiest frock, fly to the Polytechnic, and grovel. Will that satisfy you?”
“It is not me who needs to be satisfied,” I said. “Now drink up. And thank you very much for the information about the ink bottles. It is helpful.”
“Is it?” Cynthia peered at me doubtfully. “Seems we proved nothing but that those in Belgrave Square are willing to spend much on their ink.”
“I will pass your findings to Daniel. He might be able to make something of them.”
Cynthia’s brows rose. “I thought he was gone to the ends of the earth on some covert assignment for the police?”
“He was.” I still could not be effusive about what he’d been doing until I asked him whether Cynthia and Mr.Thanos could be brought in on his secrets. “He has returned, at least for now.”
“Well, give him my best.” Cynthia downed her tea in several swallows and reached for the toast. “And thank you for the repast, Mrs.H. Exactly what I needed.”
My little rebuke about Mr.Thanos hadn’t hurt either, I saw. “I am pleased I could help.”
I left Cynthia munching happily, her good spirits restored. I reflected as I slipped into the backstairs—I could still hear Mrs.Bywater ordering the staff about in her chamber—that I was glad Mr.Thanos had made known his feelings for Cynthia, if in an awkward way.
I hoped their reconciliation brought about the touching of hands or stealing of kisses that Cynthia longed for. Though I had the feeling Cynthia would have to instigate any kissing with Mr.Thanos. But all would be well between them.
If not, I’d sit them down and explain how lucky they were to have each other. Not everyone was so fortunate, a lesson I was learning myself.
* * *
Daniel did not return that day, or Saturday either. I would have worried, but James visited, telling me his father was well. Daniel was spending much time at Scotland Yard, James relayed, explaining to his guvnor everything that had happened in the Belgrave Square house.
I imagined that would take some time, even if Daniel had learned little. Mr.Monaghan was thorough, so Daniel had told me.
I went over the list Cynthia had given me many times in my idle moments, of which I hadn’t many. With Lord Peyton’s name on the list, I felt I could ignore the others, but I decided to be cautious. The likelihood of Daniel writing envelopes for anyone but Lord Peyton was small, but still, I put a tick marknext to several of the wealthy people who lived nearby and had purchased ink.
I hoped Daniel would be able to get away from Monaghan on Monday, so Grace and I could spend time with him. Grace had not seen Daniel in weeks, and I knew she missed him.
Cynthia did seek Mr.Thanos at the Polytechnic, and they made things up. She did not tell me this, but I saw her leave on Friday morning, after our chat, and when she returned, she was in fine spirits. She did not come down to the kitchen, as her aunt had her busy with helping with her charity gatherings, but Cynthia beamed a large smile at me in passing when our paths happened to cross.
I finished my work on Sunday evening and lingered well into the night, hoping for but not truly expecting Daniel to visit. I was buoyed by anticipation of spending the next afternoon with Grace, so I waited less anxiously than I might.
When the knock came on the back door, however, I was across the dark and quiet room in an instant, ready to pull Daniel into my embrace.
I wrenched open the back door…and saw no one. That is, until my gaze moved downward to find a much smaller personage than Daniel had come to call.
It was Adam, Hannah’s son and messenger. My heart beat hollowly in concern—had Hannah met with some danger?
Adam, with his characteristic silence, handed me a folded paper.
I opened it, my blood chilling as I read Hannah’s words. They proclaimed:
Peyton died tonight.
19
Having delivered his message, Adam started to turn to rush back up the stairs.
“Wait!” I all but shouted at him. “What does she mean? How? What happened?”
