A scandal in mayfair, p.9
A Scandal in Mayfair, page 9
“You do not need to be,” Ofelia insisted. “I stand by what I have done. And you should too, ma’am. So there, Neddy.”
Lily could not help smiling at that, and she heard Jack chuckle quietly behind her.
Ned Carroway sighed. “Very well, then. But we still have to decide what to do now. If we say devil take the lot of them and keep our distance, we must be prepared for what we are risking.”
“Mrs. Adler, forgive me, but …” Ofelia hesitated. “But why not help Miss Forrest anyway? You seem to believe her, or at least to think there is some merit to her concerns. Normally, that would be enough for you to already be plotting.”
“And under other circumstances I would be,” Lily said, turned from the window. “I think I would be inclined to help the girl, to find her father’s solicitor and learn the truth of the matter, if nothing more. But I know you understand why Mr. Clive’s presence makes me wish to stay far away. While I can hardly be surprised by a mercenary marriage”—she shook her head—“this seems rather more than that. I worry that he is using her to arrange all for his own benefit, with no thought of her safety or well-being.”
“And he clearly has no thought for yours or Lady Carroway’s,” muttered Ned.
Lily smiled grimly. “Too true. Which may make it impossible for me to keep my distance, no matter how much I might wish to.”
“If he is manipulating her, all the more reason to help,” Ofelia said firmly. “A girl with more financial options is also one with more matrimonial freedom. She might feel less dependent on him and his advice if you discover that her uncle is cheating her.”
“I thought you said just a moment ago that you would never give in to blackmail?” Jack pointed out.
“And I stand by that,” Ofelia declared. “But he gave Mrs. Adler two days in which to make up her mind.”
“You mean, I ought to do what I wish with those two days and see what there is to be uncovered?” Lily said. “I have the invitation he sent to Lady Walter …”
“There you are!” Ofelia said triumphantly. “Use it without telling Mr. Clive or Miss Forrest what you intend to do. Slipping away from a party where no one knows you will be an easy matter.”
“All I need to do, really, is discover the name of the father’s solicitor,” Lily said slowly, a hint of excitement growing inside her. She always felt better when she had a plan of action.
“Once you have that, Miss Forrest should be able to handle matters herself. And then you’ve stolen nothing,” Ofelia said, almost triumphantly. “Really, you’ll have done nothing except attend a ball to which you had an invitation.”
“I think this Mr. Forrest might feel otherwise should he discover Mrs. Adler sneaking about his house,” Ned said, scowling. “And remember, we do not want our names being drawn into anything.”
“Well, then we shall have to be careful not to be caught.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to regard her. “We?” Jack asked.
“Well, of course,” Ofelia said primly, sitting up straight and folding her hands in her lap. She looked the picture of a demure young matron, but her eyes gleamed ruthlessly. “My reputation and well-being are equally at stake. Of course I shall attend as well.”
“They are,” Lily said, going to sit next to her friend. “I’ve no wish to dismiss your interest in the matter—it is rightfully earned, to be sure—but I think the fewer people who are snooping around Mr. Forrest’s home, the safer we shall all be.”
“But you do not intend to go alone?” Jack said, taking a half step toward her. “That would be ridiculous.”
Lily could not help the lift of her brows. “Ridiculous?”
“To try to search all by yourself?” he replied, uncowed by her stern look. “Yes, it would be ridiculous.”
“Ever the protector,” Ofelia murmured, smiling a little.
Lily hid a wince, remembering Jack’s words about Freddy the night before. But for all they had become friends in their own right, she had long known that Jack saw his role in her life as an extension of his friendship with her husband. She could hardly start holding that against him now just because she had begun to imagine something different.
Jack either hadn’t heard Ofelia or had decided to ignore her. “If I come with you, there will be two people searching, which means less time away from the ballroom in which to be caught. Besides which, the invitation is for two people. It would look odd if you arrived by yourself.”
“Well, if the captain is going, then I certainly shall,” Ofelia declared. “Neddy and I both will. We can keep watch over Mr. Forrest while you are searching and make sure that he does not leave the ballroom. And if he tries to, we can distract him.”
“We haven’t got an invitation,” Ned pointed out. But even he didn’t sound as though he truly objected anymore. Lily was starting to suspect that even if she told them not to come, they would simply show up anyway.
Ofelia made a dismissive noise while she poured a fresh cup of tea, added a splash of milk, and slid it across the low table in front of her, toward Lily. “If he is as much of a social climber as Lady Walter says, he’ll not object to a baronet and his lady attending, even if we arrive without an invitation. He is far more likely to welcome us with open arms and ask us to begin the dancing.”
That made Jack chuckle, and even Lily felt a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Ofelia’s determination was catching.
“And in any case, you cannot afford to keep me away, you know,” she added, giving her head a pleased toss. “I’ve a better head for legal affairs than you, after spending so long involved in my father’s business. If you do find the will, and there is anything odd or confusing in how it is written, you may need me to interpret it.”
Lily reached for the delicate, steaming teacup. “I will not argue that point. But let us hope it is not the case. The time it takes to untangle legal complexities might be more than we can afford. The quicker we can conduct our search and be done, the better.” More quietly, she added, “It could be a terrible scandal you know—perhaps worse than a scandal—if we are discovered.”
“Well, then we shall do our best not to be discovered,” Ofelia said with cheerful optimism, reaching forward to claim Lily’s untouched cake. “Besides, it has been ages since you got me mixed up in some sort of intrigue. I was missing it dreadfully.”
Lily smiled grimly. “Let us hope you feel the same way tomorrow.”
Ned looked pained at his wife’s statement, but a moment later he brightened. “Well, fortunately Clive won’t know you are attending tonight. Ought to be well protected from his machinations, at least.”
“I do not know if I will feel safe from his machinations until he is gone from London,” Lily said, sighing a little. “But it would certainly be safer than attempting to steal something at his behest, with him fully knowing where and when it is happening.”
“Is it decided then?” Jack said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles. “Are we on the prowl tonight?”
With one of Ofelia’s delicate teacups in one hand and his legs stretched out before him, he looked perfectly relaxed, as though they were discussing plans for a typical evening soiree. But there was the same look in his eye that had been in Ofelia’s a moment before: steely, determined, and even a little eager.
Lily wondered if she looked the same. She certainly felt it. “It seems so. And in that case, Captain, I will need to ask your young Jem for a lesson this afternoon. Could you perhaps bring him by?”
“Certainly, madam,” Jack said, though he looked a little surprised by the request. “But what kind of lesson will it be?”
Lily smiled. “If we are to conduct a thorough search tonight,” she said, lifting her cup to her lips, “I believe I need to learn how to pick locks.”
CHAPTER 8
“Are you sure about this, mum?” Jem eyed Lily nervously—an easier task than it had been when they had first met. The gangly urchin that Jack had taken on as a body servant two years before could now look Lily in the eye. With his tousled, curly hair and newly deep voice, he was more young man than boy these days.
“Very sure, Jem,” Lily said calmly, trying not to smile at his nervousness. “And I know for a fact that you can teach me, because you taught the captain.”
The young servant glanced nervously at Jack, who was leaning against one wall with his arms crossed. “Well, you did,” Jack pointed out, grinning.
“But that’s very different from teaching a lady,” Jem said, his voice cracking a little on the word. He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “Since the captain already knows, why can’t he just take care of it?”
Lily shook her head. “The less you know, young man, the better.”
That made Jem’s expression grow alarmed. “You ain’t thinking of doing nothing illegal, are you?” he demanded.
“No, I wish to learn how to pick locks for highly respectable reasons,” Lily said with a straight face. That earned her a sour look from Jem, which made her smile. “Come now,” she said briskly. “I know boys who grow up in the Seven Dials pick up all sorts of interesting skills. This is one I need to learn, and I have every confidence you will be an excellent teacher.”
Jem sighed, though he still looked unhappy. “All right, mum. But if’n you gets in trouble for it, don’t you go ratting me out.”
“I’d never dream of it,” Lily said, matching his seriousness. She gestured to the desk in her sitting room. “Would this suffice to begin the lesson, or would a door be better?”
Jem bent down to examine the desk drawer, putting his eye very close to the lock. “Well, it’s a pretty silly lock, if’n you ask me. No one in the Dials would dream of putting anything valuable behind that. You could just smash the daft thing with a hammer.”
“But if I want to see what was behind it without letting the owner know I had done so—”
Jem sighed again. “Then you would begin with these.” He gave his employer a wary look, and when Jack nodded, pulled out a roll of black cloth. When he unrolled it on top of the desk, it proved to contain several thin metal rods and a ring of oddly shaped keys. Jem picked up the ring, the keys chiming gently against one another. “Now, pay attention, mum, if’n you please. These is called skeleton keys …”
Lily was perspiring and her fingers were achy by the time Jem had her move on to a door lock. She shifted Jem’s rough, homemade picks to one hand, wiped her forehead, and glanced at Jack, who was watching her with an amused smile. “How am I comparing to the captain?” she asked Jem.
His mouth pulled to one side as he thought about it. “You’ve got a good hand, mum,” he said. “Maybe from needlework or summat. But you’re worrying too much. Captain just wanted to learn for fun, so he weren’t so tense about it.”
“Are you saying he progressed faster than I?” Lily asked, feeling indignant.
“Well, you did all right with the desk,” Jem said, sounding uncomfortable. “But skeleton keys is easier than picks, so …” He shrugged.
“Just tell her I was better,” Jack suggested.
“No, thank you, sir,” Jem said firmly. “I ain’t foolish enough to do so.”
Jack chuckled, and Lily smiled ruefully. “All right, I shall endeavor to relax somewhat. And,” she added, with an arch look at Jack, “to be grateful, I suppose, that criminal activity does not come naturally to me.”
“Nonsense. You enjoy being a natural at anything. I doubt that excludes criminal activity,” Jack said, still sounding amused.
Lily sighed, shifting the pick and the tension rod so that she was holding one in each hand once more. “Well, I’ll not get any better standing around. Shall we—” She broke off as the sound of someone knocking echoed up the stairs.
“Are you anticipating visitors?” Jack asked.
“No.” Lily frowned. But she had given Carstairs instructions that she did not wish to be disturbed. “Luckily, your sister is downstairs, and she is well able to handle any callers.” She glanced down the hall, then turned back to the door. “Now, Jem, what do I need to do differently?”
She had just triumphantly, and with Jem coaxing her through the process, succeeded in opening the lock when Amelia appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Mrs. Adler?” She looked surprised, even a little alarmed, to see Lily kneeling before a door, lockpicks in hand, with Jack nearby and Jem peering over her shoulder.
Lily stood, dusting off the knees of her gown. “What is it?”
“There is a girl asking for you downstairs. Mr. Carstairs attempted to deny you, but she was most insistent.” Amelia hesitated, then added, “She says it is a matter of murder.”
Even Lily could not keep the surprise from her face. “It is not Miss Forrest, is it?”
“No.” Amelia shook her head. “She said her name is Andrews, and I had the impression from what she said that you might have met before. But she would not say more about her business to anyone but you. Should I tell her to leave?”
“No.” Lily glanced at Jack and her young tutor. “Wait here, if you please. I think I should see what she wants.”
“Of course.”
“Yes’m.”
As Lily made her way down the stairs, she heard Amelia asking, “Can you teach me to pick locks too?”
“Certainly, miss,” Jem replied, at the same time as Jack declared, “Absolutely not.”
Carstairs had put the girl in the front parlor. In dress, she could have been the daughter of a well-off, but not wealthy, tradesman. Her golden-red hair and dark eyes set off pale skin, and a dusting of freckles across her nose spoke to either absent-mindedness or stubbornness in not wearing a bonnet outside. She was young, likely not yet sixteen.
And Amelia had been correct in her deduction: Lily did know her.
“Miss Andrews,” she said in some surprise. “Fanny Andrews, I believe? You are Mr. Simon Page’s niece.”
“Mrs. Adler.” The girl bowed, a little stiffly and very precisely. “And your full name is Lily Adler. I remember because you told it to me when I said I liked botany. The genus Lilium.”
“I recall,” Lily said, nodding. “And I said I wished I had been half so well educated when I was your age.” She glanced around the room. “Are you alone, Miss Andrews? Did a maid come with you?”
“We do not have any maids, just a girl who comes in once a day to clean,” Fanny said, a simple, unembarrassed statement of fact.
It gave Lily a little pang in her chest that felt almost like affection, though she had met Fanny Andrews only once before. Her uncle, Simon Page, was a constable in the new Bow Street force—not so new now, but everyone still called it that. Lily had come to know Mr. Page when she had first returned to London and had realized, when she met his niece, that Miss Andrews did not live in the world in quite the same way as most people did.
There was an uncompromising honesty about her, a straightforwardness in the way she understood and interpreted the world. Though Mr. Page had told Lily that Fanny worked hard to temper it and remember the unspoken rules that governed how she was supposed to act and speak, it clearly slipped out from time to time.
Most young ladies, when faced with the difference between their own position and that of a woman like Lily’s, would have done their best to conceal such circumstances as not having a maid at home. But Fanny said it plainly because it was a fact.
There was something both endearing and heartbreaking about that. The world was not always patient with children like Fanny Andrews, or with the adults they became.
“I brought my brother with me. One of Aunt Judith’s rules is that a young lady should not walk through the city alone,” Fanny continued. “George is not very useful, but at least I was not alone. I think your housekeeper is giving him biscuits in the kitchen. I would have also liked some biscuits, but your butler brought me here instead.”
Lily smiled. “Well, I can remedy that.” She crossed to the bellpull and gave it a quick tug. “Will you sit down, Miss Andrews, and tell me why you’ve come?”
“Yes, thank you.” Fanny perched on the edge of a chair, her expression serious. She sat almost unnaturally still, her hands in her lap and her back ramrod straight, but Lily had the impression that her stillness concealed deep discomfort, perhaps even nervousness. “I am in need of a particular kind of assistance. I’m afraid there is a person living near me who has killed someone, or perhaps who is planning to do so.”
Whatever Lily might have been expecting, it was not that. For a moment, she did not respond, the patient expression with which she had been regarding her young visitor fixed in place, as though Fanny were a timid kitten and might bolt if startled.
“You don’t believe me,” Fanny said as calmly as if she were commenting on the weather. “Is that because I am a child or because I am a strange child?”
“I did not say I do not believe you,” Lily replied slowly. “I have been in the position of having my words dismissed without consideration far too many times to wish to do so to anyone else, child or not.” She felt a little cowardly for not saying something about the strange child comment as well, but she was unsure how to respond to that without giving offense. “But you must know it is a surprising thing to say.”
“It is a surprising thing to observe,” Fanny agreed. Her gaze had been fixed on a point past Lily’s shoulder, but she lifted her chin and met Lily’s eyes with great deliberateness.
“You observed this person killing someone?” Lily asked, and even she could not keep the disbelief from her voice.
“I have observed her murder weapon,” Fanny said. “And I believe possessing such a weapon can indicate only ill intent. I suppose now you are wondering why I have not told my uncle, who is a constable.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Lily said faintly, feeling out of her depth. She was not used to dealing with children, never mind children who were accusing their neighbors of murder. She nearly sighed out loud in relief when Carstairs arrived in response to her earlier summons. “Some of Mrs. Carstairs biscuits for Miss Andrews,” she said in response to his inquiry. “I trust Master George is in good hands downstairs?”
