A scandal in mayfair, p.11
A Scandal in Mayfair, page 11
“It looks like the musicians are preparing,” Ofelia pointed out as they continued on from the refreshment table. “Mr. Forrest will have to lead off the dancing, will he not? And the others will be busy watching the floor.”
Lily glanced sideways at Jack, and he nodded. “Very well.” They strolled almost aimlessly toward the nearest doorway. “And if you two can keep watch on—”
A commotion at the doorway to the ballroom interrupted her. Lily glanced over without much interest, expecting the sort of disruption that was common at this sort of gathering: the hem torn on a lady’s frock from a careless step, or perhaps a gentleman arriving a trifle indisposed after drinking too deeply at his club.
Instead, she spotted two familiar figures, pursued by a servant who was clearly remonstrating with them in spite of his low voice and polite posture. Another footman hovered by the door, anxiously wringing his hands.
“Good heavens, it is Mr. Clive,” Ofelia whispered as all the heads in the ballroom turned toward the new arrivals. “And that must be Miss Forrest with him?”
Lily glanced at Mr. Forrest. He had turned, along with his guests, to see what the interruption was. For a moment, she thought she saw a look of wide-eyed panic on his face, but it was gone so quickly she might have imagined it, replaced with indignation, then almost as speedily smoothed into an unruffled smile. He bent to whisper to the musicians, who, though they looked confused, immediately began playing the first dance of the evening. Mr. Forrest, his smile still in place but his eyes flinty, strode across the room.
There was a brief, puzzled murmur around the room, but there were enough young people present who were eager to dance. Couples began to claim their partners, though half of them still craned their necks to see what was happening, while the onlookers seemed torn between watching the dancers and watching whatever polite drama was unfolding near the ballroom’s main doors.
“What are they doing here?” Ofelia demanded. “Did you know they would be attending tonight?”
“I had no idea,” Lily said, trying to watch the argument between Miss Forrest and her uncle while keeping her face averted so she would not be recognized. Mr. Forrest was clearly attempting to keep his voice down and not cause a scene, but it seemed his excitable niece had no such delicacy. Either she wanted to garner the attention of his guests, or she was too distressed to care. “He cannot have invited her unless she misled me greatly as to their relationship.”
Jack frowned. “And if they were planning to come, why—”
“—intending to announce an engagement?” Miss Forrest’s outrage cut through the ballroom in spite of the musicians’ valiant attempts to play loudly.
“Ah, it seems we have Miss Crawley to blame for their presence,” Lily murmured as Miss Forrest continued loudly.
“I would have expected that, as your niece—”
Her uncle grabbed her arm and shook it, cutting her off, his voice still low but his fury clear on his face. Clive, looking equally outraged, threw off Mr. Forrest’s hands and interposed his body between them.
“Never a better time to sneak away,” Jack suggested, raising his eyebrows at Lily.
He was right. The musicians continued to play, and the dancers to dance, but around the room, all eyes were turned toward the arguing trio, and Lily could see no fewer than three other servants had joined the hovering footman, all of them clearly at a loss as to how to help their employer without making more of a scene.
Lily glanced at Ofelia and Ned. “You will be able to manage here?”
They nodded. “No doubt we can invent some excuse to detain him if we need to,” Ned said staunchly.
“I can always faint in the middle of the ballroom,” Ofelia suggested impishly, though her smile looked a little strained. “Hurry. The sooner you go, the sooner we can leave before something dreadful happens.”
It was a melodramatic comment, but Lily could not blame her for it. She laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. Then Lily took Jack’s arm. Trying to look as innocent and unhurried as possible, they walked calmly out of the ballroom.
The door took them into the passage toward the supper room, which, Lily was pleased to see, was currently devoid of servants or guests, all of whom were presumably riveted by the drama in the ballroom. She and Jack did not linger. Lily had fixed the layout of the first floor in her mind, and she led them quickly toward the house’s main rooms.
The library was just behind the main staircase. They paused outside its door, listening for the sound of anyone in the hall.
“I shall take this one,” Jack said in a low voice that clearly brooked no argument.
Lily had no intention of arguing, however. The first floor was the one most likely to have servants moving around it during the ball, and Jack would have an easier time explaining his presence if he was discovered there. “I will start on the third floor, then head to the sitting room on the second. When you come upstairs, turn …” She consulted the sketch. “Left. You will have more to search down here than I, so we can meet there and return downstairs together.”
“Lily.” Jack caught her arm as she was about to turn away. His customary levity was missing, and his brow was furrowed. For a moment, she thought he was about to suggest that she return to the ballroom and leave the search to him. But in the end, he gave her a tight smile. “Be careful.”
“You as well.” She gave the hand that rested on her arm a quick pat, then, turning away, lifted the hem of her gown and hurried up the steps.
The noise of the music and guests faded behind her as she climbed swiftly to the third floor. It made her shiver a little, to be in a strange house with no one about and no good explanation for why she was wandering around, should she be discovered. But that was all the more reason to keep her wits about her and move quickly. Lily consulted the map again, then turned down the hall toward Mr. Forrest’s bedroom.
She had the lockpicks from Jem tucked into her reticule as well, but she heaved a sigh of relief to discover she would not need them yet; the door to Mr. Forrest’s bedroom was unlocked. Clearly, he had not anticipated the possibility of burglary during his soiree.
Inside, the room was dim, with its curtains drawn and the fire banked low, but Lily was able to find a candle and light it at the embers. Looking around, she saw all the tidiness she would expect from a military man, and none of the ostentation she would expect from one suddenly come into a large and unexpected fortune. The furniture was elegant but a little worn, and the bed linens and curtains had been the height of fashion several years before. He had not redecorated since taking over his brother’s house, then. That either spoke to a great deal of affection—which struck Lily as unlikely, given the strain between Mr. Forrest and his brother’s only child—or he was simply awaiting the preferences of his bride-to-be.
But that restraint made Lily’s task easier. There were few changes from what Miss Forrest had indicated on her map. Lily decided to go through the furniture one piece at a time, starting with the least likely.
The tallboy and washstand were devoid of papers, legal or otherwise, and the dressing room off the bedroom held only what a man would need to bathe and shave. Lily, being somewhat familiar with the process of searching a stranger’s room, also checked for things concealed beneath the pillows, on the underside of the bed, and behind the paintings on the walls.
She stopped by the fireplace as well, intending to check the inside edge of the lintel. There was nothing there—Lily was not surprised, it was an unlikely spot for papers to be concealed—but glancing at the ashes from the day’s fire, she paused. It was hard to tell, but she thought she could see the remains of several papers, all burnt beyond the chance of seeing what they had once contained.
Lily frowned. But there were many reasons someone might want to dispose of letters; no one could keep everything they were sent. If Mr. Forrest had burned his brother’s legal papers—a significant if, as far as she was concerned—that was a suspicious but not insurmountable obstacle. Whoever had been the brother’s solicitor would have a copy. All she needed was to find that solicitor’s name.
And then decide whether or not she wanted to provide it to Miss Forrest and her blackmailing suitor.
At last, she turned her attention to the writing desk beneath the windows, a handsome, stately old piece of heavy furniture with a promising number of drawers and cubbyholes. Again, she was grateful for the military discipline that clearly still governed Mr. Forrest’s habits. Everything was neatly organized, with bills for tradesmen and deliveries—all intended for the ball currently happening downstairs—marked as paid or outstanding and tucked neatly away. There were several unremarkable letters from Miss Crawley’s father. Scanning them, Lily found a straightforward outline of a betrothal agreement, including only a token dowry. But Mr. Forrest did not need money, from what Miss Forrest had said. What he craved was status. There was nothing from Miss Crawley herself.
It was not until she tried the drawer on the lower part of the desk that her heartbeat picked up. It was locked. Glancing at the door, hoping she had not already taken too long, Lily knelt by the desk and pulled out her lockpicks.
Either Jem had taught her well or the lock on the desk drawer was not as sturdy as Mr. Forrest might have hoped. It took her less than a minute to hear it pop open. Lily slid the drawer out and began to go through the papers there, eager to see what had been important enough to keep behind lock and key.
A bundle of correspondence tied with a string, all addressed to Captain Martin Forrest, 12th Light Dragoons. Papers detailing the sale of Captain Forrest’s army commission in anticipation of his return to London, and a glowing letter of introduction from his commanding officer for him to take into his new, civilian life. Letters from soldiers still in France, wishing Mr. Forrest well in his new life and lamenting the loss to their company that his departure would bring. A handful of notes from old acquaintances scattered across England, expressing surprise upon hearing that Mr. Forrest had at last returned to the country and condolences for the death of his brother.
There was nothing incriminating there. If anything, it painted Mr. Forrest in a distinctly admirable light. Apparently, he had been well liked by his fellow officers. Even a few enlisted men had written to thank him or wish him well. And in spite of his long absence, he had been remembered kindly enough by old friends for them to reach out.
But at the bottom of the drawer, she found a bundle of letters whose hand she recognized. Each one had been penned by Miss Forrest. And all of them had been left unopened and unread.
Lily sat back on her heels. There were, it seemed, a number of contradictions in Mr. Forrest’s character. She would have liked to spend more time puzzling over them, but now was not the moment for such ruminations. There were no legal papers in the desk, not even a note or a scrap of paper to indicate who the late Mr. Forrest’s solicitor might have been. She closed the drawer, holding her breath for a nervous moment while she attempted to relock it. At last, the pins clicked back into place, and she stood, scanning the room to make sure nothing had been left disturbed.
The hall was still silent and empty when she peeked cautiously out. She hesitated, then took the candle with her; it was unlikely anyone would have laid a fire in an unused room when a party was happening downstairs. Lily checked her map one more time to be certain of her destination, then hurried down to the sitting room on the second floor.
* * *
Jack didn’t linger near the library once he had finished searching. He didn’t sneak either—a man could get away with a great deal so long as he walked with confidence. But he did move as quietly as possible as he climbed the steps to the second floor. There was no sense attracting attention that was better avoided.
Lily’s directions had been to turn left, and the sitting room on her map had been the third door off the upper hall. His steps slowed as he approached. The door was cracked just the barest inch, and he could see a thin, weak flicker of candlelight from the other side. Anyone who was supposed to be there would have more light, so he assumed Lily had arrived first. But just to be safe, he paused in the hall and whistled softly.
He wouldn’t have heard the quiet snort from the other side of the door if he hadn’t been listening for it, and it made him smile in spite of the tense circumstances. He had whistled the opening of a bawdy sailor’s ditty that he had been uproariously entertained to hear Lily humming when it was popular a few years before.
Now, she whistled the next few bars in response, letting him know that it was indeed she on the other side of the door. A moment later Jack was in the room, closing the door softly behind him and turning to give his friend an encouraging smile.
“Anything of interest?” he asked, glancing around.
There were two writing desks in the room, likely intended for guests who had correspondence to manage. There was no banked fire in the hearth, but Lily had left lit tapers on each one. She was at the one just before the windows; the other was beside a crowded wall of bookshelves.
“A great deal of interest upstairs, but nothing to our purposes,” Lily replied, just barely above a whisper. “Anything from downstairs?”
“It was mostly the brother’s papers downstairs—a great deal concerning the estate, letters that I can imagine his daughter would like to have, things of that nature. But I did find this.” Jack couldn’t hold back a pleased smile as he offered her a folded sheet of paper.
Lily let out a sigh of relief as she read it. “The solicitor. Thank goodness. I was afraid we would be risking all this for nothing.” She glanced at the two desks. “We still ought to finish our search, though. Just to be thorough.”
“Agreed.” Jack waved her off when she would have handed the paper back to him—it was for her use, not his—then went to the desk by the bookcase, where she had left the candle burning for him. It made him nervous to have it lit, knowing it could be seen around the doorframe by someone who was looking for such a thing. But there was no help for it. With its heavy curtains drawn, the room would be near completely dark without the tapers. And it had been a cloudy enough night that Jack did not want to rely on moonlight for their search.
The desk was a small affair, likely intended just for writing letters. There was nothing of note on its surface, but it did have a drawer. Jack cursed softly when he discovered it was locked, then pulled out his lockpicking tools with a sigh.
When he discovered what was inside, he nearly laughed aloud.
“Any luck?” he asked after examining the drawer for anything else.
“Nothing,” Lily replied just as quietly. “A few periodicals, some old correspondence from Miss Forrest’s father. What about yours?”
“Paper and wafers for guests who wish to write letters,” he said. He couldn’t hide the note of amusement in his voice as he added, “And a rather scandalous novel tucked into the locked drawer. I wonder who put it there.”
“Which one?” Lily demanded, closing the drawers she had been searching. Taking up her candle, she came over to see what he had found.
Jack had already closed the drawer in question, and he laid one hand on it, as though keeping it teasingly out of her reach. “Are you so versed in salacious literature that you know all the entries in the genre?” he asked, grinning at her.
But before Lily could reply, they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, moving so quickly as to be almost running. They were some distance down the hall, but both Lily and Jack instantly blew out their candles, settling into stillness as they waited to see which direction the footsteps would go.
“—stairs, you say?” they heard a quick, irritated voice ask in the hall. “Where do you think she’s gone?”
“I certainly don’t know,” a second, nervous voice replied. “I just saw her in the hall, and I came to get you, like I was told I ought when they brought us in for the night, because we’re not supposed to bother Mr. Forrest with it, and I’m sure I’m not the one—”
“All right, all right.” The irritated voice sighed, getting quieter again as the speaker moved farther away. “I’ll start looking. You go find Bennet and tell him …”
Jack didn’t let out the breath he was holding until the voices faded away and he heard footsteps on the stairs once more. They were in darkness now that their candles were blown out, but he could feel Lily close beside him. She didn’t tremble—she was not the sort of woman who would, even if she was afraid—but he could feel the tension thrumming through her. His hand brushed her arm, then traveled down until he could give her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“Come on,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. “We should get back downstairs before they bring more searchers.”
“How did someone see me?” Lily demanded, her voice no louder than his. “I was careful to—”
He squeezed her fingers again, and she fell silent. There was a time to wonder and a time to be quiet and make their way back to the party as quickly as possible. They both knew which one this was.
They left the candles behind them, moving to the door by touch and memory. Jack did not let go of Lily’s hand, and he walked with the other outstretched, feeling with his toes as they went. Beside him, he could hear her doing the same, and he fell back to let her go first, as her daintily slippered feet were better suited to the task. They made it to the door without too much noise or mishap. In the darkness, Jack was all too aware of Lily next to him as they both leaned their ears against the wood.
There was no sound from the other side, and a moment later they had the door open and were slipping quietly down the hall. It wasn’t until they were almost to the stairs that Jack realized he still held her hand. He wondered briefly if she had noticed, but then there wasn’t time to think about it for more than a moment.
There were footsteps coming up the stairs, blocking their path back down.
Jack cast around quickly. They had only moments before whoever it was came around the curve in the staircase and discovered them there. But Lily was ahead of him; she yanked open the closest door and pulled him in after her. He stumbled, caught off guard, and knocked the door from her hand. He managed to catch it just before it swung closed and eased it shut.
