Chapter Twelve
Benjamin had leftMiss Whitchurch to her duties an hour earlier. Now, he was again crossing to the entrance of the Lyon’s Den.
“Good day, my lord,” Theseus greeted him with a bow. “Another search?”
“I did not complete my other excursion. If permission still stands, I would like to begin again,” Benjamin asked politely.
Theseus glanced behind him, but no one else seemed to be about. “Titan is in a meeting with the mistress, but I am confident he will not object. Do you require assistance?”
“I am simply searching for any clue to Lord Duncan’s shooter,” Benjamin repeated his purpose.
“Then, be our guest, my lord.”
Benjamin nodded his gratitude and walked away towards the kitchen area again. Within minutes, he was looking around tree trunks and under bushes. He used the side of his boot to scrape away fallen leaves and flower petals.
Reaching the area where he had previously encountered Titan and Miss Whitchurch, he paused to say a private prayer of thanksgiving for being in the right place when the lady collapsed.
“How is the young lady from yesterday?” Titan asked as he approached from the back of the house.
“Better,” Benjamin said with caution. “The lady was well worn from tending the child, looking for her sister, and performing her duties with her employer.”
Titan spoke no more of Miss Whitchurch, but he said, “I am glad to see you back at the Lyon’s Den today, for I spoke to Mrs. Dove-Lyon about the lady’s sister and meant to let you know what I discovered. I barely recalled her, but the lady’s sister was initially employed as one of the mistress’s girls, but it soon became evident, the woman was already with child. She likely was here for less than a week. Mrs. Dove-Lyon said the girl had only ‘entertained’ two gentlemen. Both claimed she simply lay there with her eyes closed tightly. One evidently noted the swell of her stomach.”
“When was this?” Benjamin asked, attempting to determine how long Miss Whitchurch had been assisting her sister and how long Miss Cassandra had been making poor decisions.
“Cannot say with accuracy,” Titan admitted, “for the mistress does not discuss those types of negotiations with me. I would not wish to know, even if she offered the information. Either Hermia or Helena would have seen to the girl’s entrance into the Den. However, to the best of my knowledge, the girl was employed around the time the mistress initially wrote to Lord Duncan regarding the woman who wanted to arrange a marriage with his lordship and several weeks before Lord Duncan was shot.”
“So sometime between the middle of February and the middle of March.” Benjamin calculated the dates in his head. “That makes sense. Miss Whitchurch did not arrive in London until the first part of January. The lady and her sister had initially found positions and Miss Cassandra would have been a bit less than five months along at that time.”
“I have known women at five months with child who looked like abeached whale,” Titan remarked, “and others who barely showed their condition even when labor pains arrived. One cannot always tell simply by the look of a woman’s body.”
Benjamin’s only reference to a woman’s body was Lady Theodora, who he periodically viewed with the slightest degree of intimacy over the years of living in the same house with her, and the softness of Miss Whitchurch’s skin when he carried her into his house. He asked with a lift of his brows, “Have you seen a beached whale?”
“Twice,” Titan admitted. “Both along the Atlantic coastline.”
“I have not seen enough of the world,” Benjamin remarked.
“Yes, you have,” Titan corrected. “Humanity is very much the same, even if they speak a different language or follow a different religion.”
“I suppose you are correct,” Benjamin reflected.
They stood in silence for nearly a minute before Benjamin shrugged. “I was hoping to prove my belief that Duncan’s shooter removed his overcoat and simply blended in with those rushing out of the Lyon’s Den after the shooting. I do not believe the man could have outrun Beaufort, Marksman, and Hartley. As I see those events in my mind’s eye, the person who bumped into Marksman walked clumsily. At first, we all thought he had imbibed too much, but I now believe it was part of a charade. Moreover, when we escorted Duncan home, there was a man, similarly dressed and standing, leaning really, against a building along the way, his hat pulled down over his eyes, but he appeared to be a replica of the image I have of the shooter in my mind.”
“Did none of the others notice the man?” Titan asked.
“It was barely light that morning,” Benjamin reminded the man. “After I retrieved my gun, they encircled the wagon, but the man did not move. Did not even raise his head so one of us could have a look at him. Yet, a feeling of danger crawled up my spine—one saying that this was not the end of our viewing him. It felt almost like both awarning and a promise, if that makes any sense.”
“In the war, we all depended on our instincts,” Titan said softly. They stood in companionable silence for another minute. “Let us search together,” Titan ordered, and Benjamin nodded his agreement.
They each took one side of the walking path, searching the ground in close inspection. After several minutes, Titan asked, “Have either you or Miss Whitchurch asked after the lady’s sister near the docks?”
Benjamin paused in his search to look at the man. “Neither Lord Duncan nor I would permit the lady to travel that far alone,” he said in adamant tones.
“Miss Whitchurch appears the type to know gratitude for your assistance, but I would venture to say, she shall not accept your overstepping her wishes.”
“Lord Duncan assured Miss Whitchurch that she should not travel to the area alone,” Benjamin explained.
Titan paused in his search. “So, did you learn anything?”
