“Give it back, Zachary!” she complained.
Leo’s chest squeezed as she thought of her own older brother, Jacob. The last memory she had of him was nearly identical to this scene. He’d taken her doll, Miss Cynthia, and wouldn’t give her back to Leo.
“Jessamin, stop that at once,” Mrs. Bates said. “A young lady does not shout or run about the house.”
“But Auntie Emma, he’s taken my paper doll!”
“I do not care what he has taken; you must mind your manners.”
Leo rather thought Zachary should be scolded and made to return the paper doll, but Mrs. Bates didn’t say as much.
A young woman in maid’s attire hurried in, her face flushed. “My apologies, Mrs. Bates,” she said. “Come, children. Your aunt isn’t to be disturbed.”
She tried to shepherd the children from the room under Mrs. Bates’s disapproving gaze, but Jessamin threw back her head and released a wail. Zachary groaned. “Oh, here, take it then.” He shoved the paper doll at her and stalked out, but she only continued to cry.
The nanny, Leo presumed, grew even more flustered and all but dragged the little girl from the room.
“Geraldine really was not strict enough with that one,” Mrs. Bates said with a heavy sigh as she lifted her teacup. “She was always so busy with her club.”
Leo gripped Dita’s note a bit tighter as more tension rippled through her. Calling the WEA aclubwas condescending, as was intimating that Geraldine had fallen short somehow in her mothering of Jessamin. Mrs. Bates, Leo began to suspect, was not a true ally.
The front door to the home opened, and from where they sat in the front room, Mr. Stewart was visible as he swept inside.
“I’m home,” he called, doffing his hat and coat and handing them to Betty as she rushed to meet him.
Mr. Stewart caught sight of his sister-in-law and Leo and turned to join them in the sitting room. Mrs. Bates rose to her feet. Leo quickly did as well.
“Good afternoon.” Mr. Stewart’s eyes filled with recognition. “You are the young woman from last night.”
“Miss Spencer,” Mrs. Bates provided. “Do sit, Porter. You could do with a spot of tea, I’m sure.”
He shook his head and waved a hand. “No, no, Em, I’m fine. Miss Spencer, I’m glad to see you were released from Scotland Yard.”
“I am sorry to hear your wife is still being held,” she replied.
He rubbed his forehead as if it pained him. “At a prison. I cannot fathom it. I’ve heard from our solicitor that they are charging her with conspiracy to commit treason.”
Mrs. Bates took his arm and forced him to sit upon the sofa. “I won’t hear any objection. You’ll have tea.”
He nodded absentmindedly, strain painting his expression. Leo sat as well.
“Mr. Stewart, has Detective Inspector Tomlin been here, or anyone else from the Metropolitan Police, to inquire about the valise they say was used in the bombing?”
He blinked, as if coming out of a stupor. “Yes. I spoke to him, as unpleasant as it was. I showed him to the attic, where the maid stored Geraldine’s luggage. It had been there for years andyears, but…it was gone.” He paused. “You are acquainted with this inspector?”
Leo wanted to tread carefully. As gentlemanly and welcoming as he had been so far, she doubted Mr. Stewart would continue to be once he knew where she worked and her ties to Scotland Yard.
“I have friends within the police force, yes, but Inspector Tomlin is not one of them,” she replied. “Mrs. Stewart also told me that the valise should have been in the attic. Do you know of any way someone could have taken it without your knowledge?”
Mrs. Bates handed him his teacup. “We know exactly how it was done. Porter told the inspector too.”
His hand shook somewhat as he brought the cup to his lips. “A housebreaking. About a month ago.”
Leo’s interest piqued. “Did you report it to the police?”
“At the time? No.” He frowned into his tea. “However, now I realize it would have been prudent.”
“How were you to know?” Mrs. Bates asked as if to appease him. She remained standing near his side, ready to assist.
