In the morning, I’d send Albie, if I could put my hands on him, to spy on the Belgrave Square house and tell me all that happened. I’d instruct him to seek out the groom Mr.Fielding had put in place next door. Together the twomustbe able to give me some information.
I crumpled the note into my pocket, put away my things, and ate the second currant bun I’d left out—no sense letting it go to waste—before I took myself to bed.
* * *
I lay awake ruminating on the problems much of the night. Had Lord Peyton been murdered, and if so, why? Had he truly been the ringleader of an anarchist group funded by the Fenians? Or had someone in his circle been the anarchist, and Lord Peyton had found him out?
Lord Peyton had purchased the very ink used in the blackmail letters, and Daniel had addressed the envelopes, which meant the lettersmusthave come from within Lord Peyton’s house.
Written by Lord Peyton? Or his sister, Lady Fontaine? Or one of his frequent visitors? Or one of the staff? Mrs.Proctor, the housekeeper?
I tossed and turned, beating my pillow in frustration. I hated having to wait to ask questions, but I could not rush about in the middle of the night, pounding on doors and demanding information.
As I’d worked hard all the day long, my body at last demanded rest. In the wee hours of the morning, I fell into a deep sleep, swimming awake in an awkwardly twisted position as sunshine touched my window.
I heaved myself from bed, wincing as my muscles unbent, and hurried through my ablutions. Today was Monday, my afternoon out, and I chafed to leave the house.
Downstairs, I raced through breakfast preparations, once again having most of it done before Tess entered the kitchen. I broke off my tasks a half dozen times to hurry up the outside stairs and down again, to Tess’s consternation.
“Everything all right?” Tess asked me when I returned from one trip.
I’d been searching for Albie, so I could set him to watch over Hannah. Tess eyed me fearfully, so I shook my head.
“I’m sorry, Tess. A man Daniel had been sent to observe has died, and I am at my wits’ end.”
Tess would learn of the death soon enough if the journalists were as quick on the scene as usual, so I saw no reason to keep it from her.
“Were he a crook?” Tess asked as she slathered butter onto the piles of toast. “Would be if they sent Mr.McAdam to watch over him. If he’s dead, it’s a good thing, inn’t?”
“A sudden death is never a good thing, Tess. But this is nothing for you to worry over.”
“I’ll ask Caleb,” Tess offered, then became mournful. “If I ever see him again.”
“He might not be able to help us anymore, that is true. But don’t fret so much. Everything will be well.”
I was placating her, and Tess knew it. Caleb’s new job could very well hinder their courtship, but I would have to tackle that problem later. Tess returned to buttering toast, downcast.
“Caleb adores you,” I told her, wishing I could comfort her. “He said he’d find a way for the two of you to be happy, did he not?”
I believed he’d let little stand in his way of seeing Tess, and she must also know this, because she gave me a wavering smile. I left her to it, and I charged upstairs to the street again.
To my relief, I saw Albie trotting my way. I waylaid him and told him what I wanted him to do.
“I was just coming to tell you the gentry-cove died,” Albie said. “His friends are cut up something awful over it. The Lofthouse people are packing for the Continent.”
“Are they, indeed?” Not suspicious at all, was it? I handed Albie his fivepence. “Here’s your payment, Albie. More when you tell me about what is happening in the Belgrave Square house today. Don’t forget to find the groom.” I’d described the man, though I had yet to discover his name.
“I know what to do.” Albie grabbed the coin but regarded me in a more good-natured way than Adam had. “I won’t let you down.” He shot me a grin and raced away, his legs in knickers moving in a flash.
I closed the door on him, wishing I could run off with him.
I had no more word from or about Belgrave Square as I worked to fix a light repast for Mrs.Bywater and Cynthia’s midday meal. Mr.Davis was busy this morning and didn’t leave a convenient newspaper lying about, and I had no time to find one or ask him about articles in them regarding Lord Peyton. The mystery of the viscount’s death remained just that, a mystery to me.
When at last I could depart for the afternoon, I changed my frock and bade Tess farewell.
“Save the hardest work for me, Tess,” I told her as I pulled on gloves and snatched up my basket. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Tess nodded at me, no doubt ready to be rid of me and my impatience. “Give my love to Grace and Mrs.Millburn,” she said, with a hint of her usual cheeriness.
