Adam regarded me with the arrogant impatience of ten-year-old boys. “I dunno, do I?”
“I need to speak to your mum. Can she meet me tomorrow?”
Adam’s eyes flickered at my knowledge that he was Hannah’s son, but he shook his head. “She’s got to stay in. No leave. Says her ladyship’s upset, and Mum’s not allowed a day out.”
From which I gathered that Lady Fontaine was distraught—and well, she must be—and refused to let any of the servants out of her sight.
“Will you tell Hannah to send word as soon as she can get away? We must confer.”
“All right.” He turned to go again.
I guessed that Adam could not read what his mother had written, or he’d not be so ready to dismiss it. He’d either be upset that his mother was in a house where a man had recently died, or he’d revel in the excitement of it.
“Adam,” I called.
He didn’t turn right away, reinforcing my idea that Adam was not his true name. I’d have to ask Hannah what it was.
“What?” he asked from three steps up.
I fumbled in my pocket. “Don’t you want your coin?”
“A bleedin’ ha’penny?” He regarded me with scorn. “No thanks, missus.”
“Very well, a penny this time. It’s more than I pay most of the messenger boys.”
“You gave Albie fivepence,” Adam said indignantly. He’d seen that, had he? And knew Albie, presumably.
“He was running errands for me, not simply bringing me a scrap of paper,” I said. “But wait there, and I’ll fetch you a bun.”
“Just the penny.” Adam held out his hand. He wore gloves, which were worn and stretched.
I held the coin between my fingers. “Well, if you’d rather go hungry than have a nice, fat, currant bun still warm from the oven…”
Adam hesitated, his appetite winning. “All right, then. Only if you’re quick about it.”
I returned the coin to my pocket. “Simple gratitude would not go amiss, young man. Stand there.”
I strode back into the kitchen and took up the currant bun I’d set aside in case Daniel came, wrapping it in a cloth. I returned to the outside stairs with both bun and penny but kept hold of them, knowing Adam would disappear the moment he had them in hand.
“Tell your mum that if she wants to go home, I’ll understand.” If Lord Peyton’s death had been murder, the police would swarm the house, and Hannah would do better to avoid them.
“She likes the wages,” Adam said. I at last handed him the coin and bread, which he snatched away. “Thank you, missus,” he muttered as an afterthought.
“Mrs.Holloway,” I informed him. “Look after your mum, Adam. She’ll need you.”
Another glower. “I always do.” He turned from me and stomped up the stairs, and this time, I let him go.
I closed the door on the cool night air and again studied the note Hannah had scribbled.
Lord Peyton was dead. Just like that.
Killed? Topped himself? Died a natural death? I’d never learned why he had to use a wheeled chair, except that it was some ailment that prevented him from walking. It might have been a wasting disease that had finally finished him off.
I could know nothing standing in the kitchen in the dark, but I wasn’t certain when I’d be able to discover anything further. Daniel was being sequestered by Mr.Monaghan, and Hannah was restricted to the Belgrave Square house.
Caleb might have been recruited by Monaghan, putting him beyond my reach. Caleb was a bright young man, who I knew could go far, but I wondered if one of Monaghan’s motives in taking him from his beat was so I could not use him as a resource.
“Drat,” I said with feeling.
