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“I’ve already taken the liberty of speaking with Mrs. Sloane,” he whispered. “She’s agreed to allow us the use of her sitting room. Also, the message has bee
n sent with Mr. Bartleby. All that remains is to await a reply or, more likely, his arrival.”
As soon as the last student was out of earshot, she quickly relayed her thoughts. “What think you?”
Her heart sank at his look of consternation. “I intended to wait until after this case was solved before entering into formal courtship or making any sort of announcement. As far as my superiors know, you’re still a suspect. By waiting until after your innocence is proven and things quiet down, we lessen the chances of anyone poking into your past.”
Despite her expertise when it came to concealing pain, it was only with great effort that Jacqueline maintained a neutral expression. He is ashamed and fearful of what people will think of me, and rightly so. Now that his mind wasn’t clouded by lust, good sense had asserted itself. Better to know while I still have some dignity left than find out later. Squaring her shoulders, she strove for a brisk tone. “If you wish to retract your offer of marriage, I perfectly underst—”
“What? No!” he cut in, flushing. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just think it would be easier if we waited until things were more settled before becoming officially engaged. No one will question a romantic association later, but if we were to announce it now, amid all this turmoil…”
She nodded, swallowing to clear her throat of the uncomfortable lump that had taken up residence in it. “I agree. Waiting is the sensible course.”
“Sensible, but not preferable,” he breathed, leaning closer. “Believe me when I say I’m impatient to leave bachelorhood behind, but we cannot afford to take foolish risks.” Glancing about first, to be sure they were alone, he then bent and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
Need reawakened as if she’d not thoroughly sated herself last night, and it took all her strength not to fling her arms around his neck. Unable to speak after he broke the delicious contact, she nodded agreement.
The door was open and Agnes had already arrived by the time they reached Mrs. Sloane’s quarters. Jacqueline could hear the women whispering as they rounded the corner and entered the sitting room. Silence fell the moment they were noticed.
“I’m sure you must be wondering why I asked to meet with you privately this morning,” she began. “I need to inform you of some impending changes relating to the school’s security.” She told them about the locksmith.
Both women looked stunned, but it was Mrs. Sloane who spoke first, her tone laden with reproach. “None but we in this room have keys to the outer doors. Do you not trust us to safeguard them?”
“It’s not you we distrust,” interrupted Will before she could speak. He shot her a meaningful glance, and then to her surprise told them about Sally. “It was pure chance that Mr. Bartleby noticed the flashes from her window last night,” he lied. “She was communicating with someone.”
Two gasps followed. Agnes’s face reddened. “I’ll see the wench turned out the very instant—”
“You cannot,” cut in Will. “We must perpetuate the belief that her duplicity has gone undetected.”
After he explained why, Agnes looked to Mrs. Sloane, who nodded agreement. She sighed. “I like it not, but I’ll do it.”
Jacqueline breathed a sigh of relief. “Our most immediate need is to make certain she comes nowhere near either of the two entrances where the locksmith is to work.”
Agnes’s chin lifted. “No fear of that, ma’am. I’ll see she’s kept busy. I’ve bushels of potatoes that need peeling and vegetables to be chopped. Once that’s done, I’ll set her to scrubbing out the cellar. After that, she can tend the pots until the supper is ready. She’ll earn her keep honestly this day, and no mistake!”
Sally would likely drop from exhaustion tonight.
After dismissing everyone to their respective duties, Jacqueline went to her office to write some letters and try to calm her frayed nerves. To her immense relief, Will’s locksmith finally arrived just after the afternoon rest period. Agnes was true to her word and kept Sally in the kitchen the entire day.
Jacqueline was preparing to leave when Mrs. Sloane poked her head around the doorframe.
“Our gentleman visitor would like to see you,” she whispered, showing in a wizened, gray-haired man with sharp green eyes. “I’ll stand watch and make certain you’re not disturbed.”
The locksmith grunted a perfunctory greeting and immediately reached into his satchel, withdrawing a large padlock, which he set down atop her desk with a heavy thunk. “Mah latest—an’ if ye dinnae mind mah seeyin’ so—mah finest work yet,” he said, his northern burr even thicker than MacCallum’s. “Iron clad wi’ brass. See here?” He pointed a grubby fingertip at it. “The keyhole is hooded an’ fitted wi’ a cover tae keep out the wet, so it willnae rust. An’ ’tis completely thief-proof—three wards, five tumblers, an’ a lever that naught but this key can move.” He grinned. “If I cannae pick it, no one can.”
Next he drew out three jingling sets of keys. The majority of the noise was created not by the keys, but by tiny bells attached to each iron ring. “Just like the ones at the Tower,” he said, shaking one to set the bells atinkle. “Keeps sly fingers awee, an’ the rings hae been weelded so the keys cannae be removed.”
If anyone wanted a key, they’d have to take the whole noisy lot. A simple but effective way to thwart a thief.
Taking up one of the rings, he held up the largest key. “This one fits the padlock. Tha’ back gate is a weak point, but wi’ this, ye should be secure. Tha’ Sloane woman has the new chain I brought to go wi’ it—’tis a guid bit thicker than one ye hae now.” He took the smaller key between a blackened thumb and forefinger. “These fit both outside doors. As per instruction, only the innards hae been replaced. The old face plates remain. I stand by mah workmanship, but I highly advise ye tae keep those doors barred when no’ in use.”
He handed her all three sets of keys.
“Thank you, monsieur. Your skill is most appreciated, as is your haste in answering our need.”
Color stole into the man’s rough, unshaven cheeks. “’Tis mah job tae see tae the security of those as pay me, ma’am.”
A broad hint, if ever she’d heard one. “How much?”
