“I understand your aunt’s reaction,” I said. “But also, I do not. If she has done none of these things—which I am certain she hasn’t—why would she not simply thrust it indignantly on the fire?”
“Read to the end,” Cynthia urged.
I had ceased perusing at the bottom of the first page, my senses already offended. I flipped the paper over and read the writing that filled the top half of it.
The writer demanded that Mrs.Bywater leave him or her a sum of money—one hundred guineas, to be precise—at a location to be disclosed in the next letter.
“Drat,” I said.
“My words were more unfortunate,” Cynthia said. “What an awful thing to send to poor Auntie. Not to mention trying to pry money from her. Strange they’d believe she’d pay up. Everyone knows how parsimonious Auntie is.”
I folded the paper to shut out the awful sentences. “I exclaimed because I am unhappy they did not tell us where to leave the money inthisletter. If they had, we could lie in wait for whoever it is to collect the funds and then fetch a convenient policeman.”
“They have thought of that.” Cynthia quoted from the letter: “Tell anyone, and your sins will be exposed to the world.”
“Your aunt hasn’t told anyone, I am guessing. Who would?If you can find the next letter when it comes, perhaps it will lead us to this horrid person.”
“I will watch out for it,” Cynthia promised. “And lie in wait for this person, as you say. Whoever they are, they will be sorry they upset Auntie in any way.”
I agreed with her. Cynthia began to reach for the letter, but I opened it again and made myself read the lines once more.
Cynthia wrinkled her nose. “You can’t mean to go over it again. I am made of stern stuff, but it nauseated me.”
“This letter writer is amazingly specific at some points, did you notice? They are not spewing general abuse.” I picked out a few phrases. “I saw you and your foul lover at the lake in Holland Park…I witnessed what you did under your secret tree on Hampstead Heath…”I regarded Cynthia over the paper. “I very much doubt your aunt conducted trysts in either of these places. She scarcely likes to get her feet wet.”
“That is true,” Cynthia agreed.
I folded the pages and slipped them into the envelope. “Why does this writer believe Mrs.Bywater will pay to keep quiet about things she never did?”
Cynthia shrugged. “To prevent them spreading lies? Auntie’s friends are prudish in the extreme. If any believed she’d conducted these sorts of affairs, even in the distant past, they’d shun her.”
“Or laugh,” I said. “At the absurdity that anyone could think so. It is ludicrous.” I studied the envelope again. “The address saysThe Lady of the Household. As we know your aunt has done none of the things she is accused of, the logical conclusion is that the letter writer did not mean it to go to Mrs.Bywater.”
Cynthia looked puzzled, then her eyes widened. “Good Lord—you don’t suppose they are talking aboutme? I’ve neverhad trysts of any kind, not on Hampstead Heath or in Holland Park or in any other green refuge London has to offer. More’s the pity. How awful they’d think so.”
“No,” I said gently. “Not you. The previous lady of the house, before your aunt came to look after you.”
Cynthia drew a sharp breath, then her chest ceased moving at all. “The mean, foul, nastybitch.”
Her voice was tight but loud enough that Elsie and Tess glanced in from the scullery, startled.
“Say nothing to your aunt,” I instructed Cynthia, motioning Elsie and Tess to go back to what they were doing. “You keep a lookout for the second letter, and we’ll have him. Or her. But please keep this between us for now. If you must rant, do so to me, or perhaps Mr.Thanos, who is discreet, but no one else. It is important.”
Cynthia continued to splutter in outrage, but I held her with a stern gaze, and finally, she nodded. Her rage was high, but she was wise enough to grasp that if she went on a rampage, she’d frighten away the culprit, and we might never catch them.
She jammed the letter into her pocket. “I don’t like that Auntie has to continue believing this is abouther.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t.” I wanted to pat Cynthia’s shoulder or some such and comfort her, but I could not do so to the daughter of the house in the middle of the kitchen. “She must realize it has nothing to do with her. Perhaps she is so upset because she knows who theydomean.”
“Oh.” Cynthia stilled again. “She might. Auntie is oblivious much of the time, but she is no fool. But hang about, Mrs.H. Why send a letter trying to extort money from my poor sister, when she has been gone from us for three years?”
“That might be the most intriguing question of all.” Igrasped my knife, preparing to continue chopping. “Put the letter back, say nothing, and watch for the next one. We’ll have this person.” My knife came down and severed the leafy head of an unfortunate carrot.
“Right you are. Thank you, Mrs.H. I’ll keep you informed.” Cynthia saluted me and dashed from the kitchen, nearly running down Mr.Davis on her way.
Mr.Davis stepped aside in deference, then scowled at Cynthia’s back once she’d passed him. He was quite fond of Cynthia but sometimes disapproved of her impetuous ways.
“She’ll come to grief running about like that,” Mr.Davis said to me. “I agree with the mistress that she should take a husband, but only if she finds a gent who likes her temperament.”
