CHAPTER
Ten
“I’m not sure I understand why we’re not taking the carriage,” Daphne muttered, trudging beside Gabriella as they moved down the sidewalk, fog swirling around them.
“Because Celeste Wilkins and her parents live a mere three blocks from my house,” Nicholas said. “It’ll be less conspicuous if we walk instead of take a carriage. Fog distorts sound, and the last thing we need is to have someone grow curious about a carriage stopping near Celeste’s house.”
“But I was hoping to be your lookout from the safe confines of your carriage.”
“We’ll find you a nice shrub to hide behind where you’ll be perfectly safe,” Gabriella said.
“I won’t be safe if some fiend is lurking out here. Fiends have an uncanny way of finding helpless prey.”
Gabriella slowed to a stop. “If you’ll recall, I tried to encourage you to stay behind. You’re the one who insisted on coming with us.”
“Well, yes, but that’s before I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide out in a carriage.”
“Lookouts aren’t supposed to hide out. They’re supposed to stay vigilant.”
Nicholas felt his lips twitch, the thought coming to him again that he’d not been so amused in ages, but being with Gabriella and Daphne was definitely amusing. “If the two of you are done bickering, we’re almost there.”
“We’re not bickering,” Daphne said before she looked around. “Which one is Celeste’s house?”
Nicholas gestured to a house down the street. “That’s it.”
“Then I’ll take up my lookout position right . . .” Daphne glanced to the right, then to the left, then behind her. “Ah, there’s a shrub. I’ll be behind that.”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to do us much good as a lookout if you’re so far removed from the house,” Nicholas said, which earned him a punch in the arm from Gabriella. “What?”
“Just let her go behind the shrub. It’ll be easier for us, believe me.”
“An excellent point.” Nicholas nodded to Daphne. “Stay behind there and don’t come out. Although . . .” He frowned at Gabriella. “Perhaps you should stay with her. She could very well faint again if events turn concerning, or if she gets spooked by her own shadow.”
“I’m not going to get spooked by my own shadow,” Daphne argued, drawing herself up before she stomped over to the shrub, jumping ever so slightly when the light from the gas lamp caused her shadow to flicker over the bush she then edged behind.
Nicholas grinned. “Daphne’s wonderfully entertaining.”
“That’s one way of describing her,” Gabriella said, moving through the fog with Nicholas and slowing as they approached Celeste’s house. “Where’s Celeste’s bedchamber?”
“Second floor,” Nicholas said, feeling more alive than he’d felt in years with every step they took closer to the house. Yes, if they got caught, there were going to be consequences, but if they weren’t caught, and if they were able to prove Celeste was behind the Linwood jewel heist, well . . .
“Something’s wrong,” Gabriella suddenly said, pulling him to a stop.
“I don’t know. I just have this feeling.” She squinted through the fog. “Is that someone climbing out of that second-floor window?”
Nicholas directed his attention to where she was staring. “Possibly. Hard to tell from this distance, though.”
“Come on.”
Keeping to the shadows, Nicholas kept pace with Gabriella as she stole closer to the house, but before they reached it, light spilled from the windows, followed by yells of outrage.
Nicholas reached out to pull Gabriella deeper into the shadows, but his hand met nothing but air because Gabriella was no longer beside him. Instead, she was dashing down the sidewalk in pursuit of a shadowy figure.
Breaking into a run, he pushed himself to catch up with her, but Gabriella had always been fast, and that had clearly not changed in the years they’d been apart.
Trepidation flowed freely when he saw Gabriella suddenly hurtle herself through the air, taking the person she’d been chasing to the ground in a tangle of swinging arms and legs.
Nicholas’s heart stopped when the person suddenly slapped Gabriella, right before jumping up and dashing away, disappearing into the fog.
“Are you all right?” he demanded, stopping directly beside Gabriella.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” Gabriella said, dashing away a smear of blood from her lip, which suggested she wasn’t exactly fine. “Go after him.”
Knowing they’d never get answers if he didn’t go after the man who’d just slapped Gabriella, he raced away. Unfortunately, when he reached the end of the street, there was no sign of the man, nor was there even the sound of running feet, suggesting that whomever had climbed out of the Wilkinses’ window had gone to ground.
By the time he returned to Gabriella, people were streaming out of the Wilkinses’ house, rushing to where Gabriella was getting to her feet, with what looked to be a large box on the ground beside her. She bent over and picked up the box right as Miss Celeste Wilkins stepped forward.
“Oh, thank goodness you were able to recover that for me, sir,” Celeste began, holding out her hands. “I would have been ever so sorry to have lost my memory box.”
Nicholas wasn’t surprised when Gabriella didn’t hand over the box.
“Perhaps we should check the contents of your box, miss, to make certain nothing is missing,” Gabriella said in a voice she’d lowered a good octave.
“A wise suggestion indeed,” Nicholas said, stepping from the shadows and into the dim gaslight.
Miss Celeste Wilkins raised a hand to her throat. “Mr. Quinn, what are you doing here? I thought I saw you at the Lanham ball.”
“I offered to escort a lady home who’d injured herself during a dance. But since the night was still young, I decided to go for a stroll before I retired,” Nicholas said, inclining his head to Mr. Wilkins, who was standing beside his daughter. “But why are all of you home so early? Were you not enjoying the ball?”
“I’m afraid our darling Celeste was once again overcome with emotion after everyone kept speaking about Miss Jennette Moore,” Mr. Wilkins said. “Mrs. Wilkins and I decided there was little point in remaining at a ball where our daughter was spending all of her time in the retiring room. Plus, Celeste was almost out of smelling salts.”
“A concerning circumstance to be sure,” Mrs. Wilkins said, stepping forward and settling her attention on the box in Gabriella’s hands. “I have to wonder now, though, if we’ve been very fortunate to have returned home early tonight.” She sent her husband a knowing look. “And here you argued with me when I encouraged you to press the Pinkertons to find someone to guard our house tonight.”
“I couldn’t secure us a Pinkerton man today, dear,” Mr. Wilkins returned. “They’re shorthanded right now because everyone is hiring guards to protect their houses.”
“If we could return to this box,” Gabriella interrupted, stepping forward, “we should check the contents of it because there is a chance the thief merely grabbed this box to stash all the jewels he might have taken from your safe.”
Celeste stepped closer to Gabriella, her brows knitted. “Forgive me, but who are you, and why do you seem to have taken it upon yourself to become involved in what is clearly none of your business?”
“Celeste,” Mrs. Wilkins all but stammered. “Where are your manners?”
Gabriella waved Mrs. Wilkins’s concerns aside. “Your daughter is obviously suffering a case of nerves after having a thief in your house, so should be forgiven for not minding her manners.” Gabriella stepped closer to Celeste and smiled a smile that, in the past, never boded well for whomever she was directing that smile at. “As for who I am, I’m Mr. Gabe . . . ah . . . Smith at your service, agent for the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. “I’ve never heard of the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency.”
“We’re a fairly new business, but lucky for you, we’re looking into the thefts that have been connected to the Knickerbocker Bandit.”
Celeste shot a glance to the box Gabriella was still holding. “You don’t say.”
“Oh, but I do say, so shall I take a look inside to make certain your parents’ safe wasn’t broken into and the thief stashed their jewels in here?”
Celeste lifted her chin. “I have tokens of a personal nature in that box, Mr. Smith—trinkets, if you will, from some of my admirers. It would be embarrassing for me to allow a complete stranger to look through them.”
“What admirers have been sending you trinkets?” Mr. Wilkins demanded.
“I don’t think we need to get into that now, dear,” Mrs. Wilkins said when Celeste didn’t bother to answer. “It’s hardly a discussion we should have in front of Mr. Quinn, although . . .” She turned to Nicholas and smiled. “I’m hosting an evening supper next week, a very intimate affair. I hope you’ll be receptive to my sending you an invitation.”
He pretended he didn’t hear Gabriella’s snort beside him. “I’d be delighted to attend, if my calendar is free that night.”
“How delightful,” Mrs. Wilkins said before she nodded to Gabriella. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Smith, but Celeste has a point about not caring to have you paw through her trinkets.” She held out her hands. “I’ll take the box now, if you please.”
“But of course,” Gabriella surprised Nicholas by saying, his surprise disappearing when he saw her discreetly flip up the latch that kept the box closed, take a step forward, then trip on nothing but air, tossing the box to the ground. The lid flew open, and then jewels spilled out, sparkling even in the dim light that surrounded them.
Gabriella regained her balance and looked at the jewels, then to Mrs. Wilkins. “Looks like the thief might have gotten into your safe after all.”
Mrs. Wilkins leaned over to peer at the jewels now strewn on the sidewalk. “Those aren’t mine.”
Nicholas leaned over as well. “They look like diamonds and sapphires.”
“But what in the world are diamonds and sapphires doing in Celeste’s memory box?” Mrs. Wilkins asked.
“I’ve never seen those before in my life,” Celeste proclaimed. “The thief must have robbed a house earlier and brought those with him.”
Gabriella sauntered forward, her gaze never wavering from Celeste’s face. “Thieves don’t usually care to be weighed down with loot when they go out on another job.” She looked at the jewels on the ground. “How curious, though, that you had a very valuable collection of sapphires and diamonds in your memory box, Miss Wilkins, especially when the Linwood sapphire and diamond collection only recently went missing.” She arched a brow. “I believe that you, my dear, might have some explaining to do.”
Celeste’s eyes narrowed on Gabriella for the briefest of seconds until she suddenly burst into tears, moved to her mother’s side, and stepped into the arms Mrs. Wilkins immediately held out to her. “I have no idea why this man seems to be accusing me of something dreadful.”
Gabriella began tsking, and knowing that tsking would soon be followed by an interrogation, one Mr. and Mrs. Wilkens might balk at having turned their daughter’s way, Nicholas cleared his throat.
“I’m sure Mr. Smith isn’t accusing you of anything, Miss Wilkins. He’s merely trying to ascertain how you came in possession of what appears to be the missing Linwood collection.”
“I have no idea.”
“Was it because you wanted Duncan Linwood for yourself and thought to frame Jennette Moore so you could have another chance at engaging his affections?” Gabriella shot at Celeste before Nicholas could say anything else, her question having Celeste’s tears disappearing in a flash as she stepped out of her mother’s arms.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Jennette is one of my dearest friends.”
“Is she? Then why didn’t you remain friends after you attended finishing school with her, a school she was forced to abandon after her father died and she found herself without funds?”
“I have no idea how you’re even in possession of that information, but I wasn’t very well going to call on her at a dreadful boardinghouse. I had my reputation to consider.”
Gabriella took a step forward, temper residing in her eyes as she began firing question after question at Celeste, all concerned with Celeste’s character—or lack thereof.
It didn’t take long for Celeste to lose control, and during that loss she disclosed, to everyone’s disbelief, that she’d never cared for Jennette and had been appalled that Jennette was soon to marry one of the wealthiest gentlemen in the city, effectively taking Jennette from social outcast to sought-after society matron.
She then went on to admit that Jennette’s good fortune had been too much to bear, which was why she hatched her plan to hire a thief from the Lower East Side to steal the Linwood collection and see Jennette firmly removed from society—as well as removed from Duncan Linwood—once and for all.
“You should stop speaking, dear,” Mrs. Wilkins said firmly, taking hold of Celeste’s hand and trying to tug her toward the house, her way blocked when Gabriella stepped in front of her.
“I don’t think you’re grasping the gravity of what your daughter has admitted, Mrs. Wilkins,” Gabriella began. “She’s just divulged that she framed Jennette Moore, who is currently sitting in jail, for theft. I don’t believe now is the time to whisk her away, not when I know she’s not finished disclosing everything.”
Mrs. Wilkins lifted her chin. “My daughter is clearly not well, Mr. Smith. And even if she did hire criminals to stop Jennette from marrying Mr. Linwood—and I’m not saying she actually knows what she’s saying at the moment—I’m sure she didn’t realize they’d go to such extremes to get Jennette out of the picture.”
“But why didn’t she come forward after Jennette got sent to jail?” Gabriella demanded. “Better yet, why did she keep the majority of the Linwood jewels for herself?”
“I kept the jewels because of all the trials I’ve been made to suffer throughout my life,” Celeste snapped.
Gabriella’s attention switched back to Celeste. “Do tell what possible trials you, an heiress and member of the New York Four Hundred, could have possibly suffered.”
To Nicholas’s complete disbelief, instead of descending into silence, Celeste launched into a laundry list of every trial she’d experienced. She had so many things to disclose that she had to resort to ticking items off on her fingers—slights from friends, gowns not fitting her properly, and even interest being unreturned by gentlemen she fancied, Duncan Linwood being one of them. She then admitted that she’d kept most of the Linwood collection for herself because Duncan’s mother, Georgiana Linwood, had once neglected to send an invitation to a luncheon Celeste desperately wanted to attend.
By the time Celeste had aired her grievances, authorities had arrived on the scene. And while there was the general consensus amongst those authorities that Celeste, given her parents’ position in the New York Four Hundred, shouldn’t be immediately carted off to jail, she was placed under house arrest until a decision could be made as to what needed to be done with her.
As Celeste was led into her house, yelling accusations at Gabriella for egging her on so much that she’d confessed everything, Nicholas caught Gabriella’s eye and grinned. “Nice work.”
She returned the grin. “Thank you. I have to admit I thought it was going to take more effort to get her to confess, but once she got started, it was as if she couldn’t stop herself, even with her parents trying to intercede.”
“I don’t imagine Celeste’s parents have ever denied her anything or asked anything of her. They really shouldn’t be surprised that she refused to listen to their wise counsel of keeping her thoughts, as well as her crimes, to herself.”
“I don’t know when I’ve ever witnessed a more riveting scene,” Daphne said, moseying up to join them now that they were alone on the street, her curiosity evidently the reason behind her abandoning the safety of her shrub. She held up her notepad. “I have enough fodder here to last me quite a few chap—or poems.”
Nicholas cocked his head to the side. “What type of poetry could you possibly write about in regard to the events that occurred this evening?”
Daphne shot a look to Gabriella, who merely shrugged, then back to him. “Dark poems. Along the lines of, umm, Edgar Allan Poe?”
“Have you ever written dark poetry before?”
“Just because I faint at the drop of a hat doesn’t mean I’m incapable of writing dark, perhaps even thrilling, poetry,” Daphne said firmly. “But speaking of being incapable, your performance tonight, Nicholas, was not anything like what I expected, not with how you grew up in the Lower East Side. You were far too easy on Celeste Wilkins, treating her as if the two of you were about to sit down to tea instead of an interrogation. It’s a good thing Gabriella refused to be left behind. She took the bull firmly by the horns, and in so doing had Celeste confessing all.”
“She certainly knew how to deal with Celeste,” Nicholas admitted.
“Indeed, it was a most brilliant spectacle, and one I’m not soon to forget.” Daphne took the arm Nicholas offered her, although Gabriella refused the arm he offered her next, probably because she was dressed as a man, and together, they began moving in the direction of his brownstone.
“Do either of you find it curious that someone tried to steal jewels that Celeste hired someone to steal for her?” Daphne asked after they’d made it all of half a block.
“That’s a strategy Nicholas and I often saw when we lived in the Lower East Side,” Gabriella began. “Someone would set up a heist, word would spread, and then a rival would set up another heist, relieving the first culprit of the valuables they’d stolen.” Gabriella caught Nicholas’s eye. “Remember when that group of street children learned we’d managed to steal two paintings from the Stewart house and intercepted us on our way back to Rookwood?”
“That was one of the few times I was glad Virgil Miskel was with us. We never would have been able to keep hold of our ill-gotten gains if not for the sheer size of him.”
Daphne slowed to a stop. “What could you have possibly done with two paintings?”
“Rookwood sold them to one of his contacts who had connections with a society member who loved to acquire beautiful objects and never questioned where they came from,” Gabriella said. “The paintings we stole that night were painted by some artist named Henry Raeburn, but I don’t know what happened to them after we took them off the Stewart wall.”
“A member of the Belmont family bought them,” Nicholas said.
Gabriella frowned. “How do you know that?”
“Because I purchased them from Archie Belmont three years ago after I attended a dinner party at his house and saw them on the wall of his study. Henry Raeburn’s work is in much demand these days, and I knew they’d be a sound investment if I could convince Archie to part with them. I had to pay a pretty penny, but I’m sure the paintings will only increase in value.”
Gabriella’s frown deepened. “You bought them because they’re a sound investment?”
“Why else would I have bought them?”
“I would have thought, since you seem to have sufficient means at your disposal, that you bought them because you wanted to return them to the Stewart family.”
“I doubt the Stewarts even missed those paintings. If you’ll recall, they had hundreds of paintings hanging on the walls of their mansion. Besides, how would I go about returning them? That might very well incur questions I’m unable to answer since no one in society knows about my past.”
“You used to possess a semblance of intelligence, Nicholas, some of which I would hope you still have. I’m sure if you set your mind to it, you’d figure something out,” Gabriella said as they reached his house. She sent him what was clearly a forced smile. “Thank you for your assistance tonight. Overall, it was a very satisfying conclusion to a case I wasn’t certain we were going to be able to solve. But we’ve cleared Jennette’s name, and the police assured us they’d see her released as soon as possible, so all’s well that ends well.”
“Should we celebrate by enjoying a nice cup of coffee or tea together before I see the two of you home?” Nicholas asked.
Instead of immediately answering him, Gabriella turned her attention to his brownstone, considered it for a long moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, nor do I think it’s a good idea for you to see us home. I’ll just change into my Mrs. Kaffenburgh disguise again so I can return Billie’s clothes to him, and then Daphne and I will rent a hansom cab.”
“I’m not comfortable having you take a hansom cab home.”
She stepped closer to him. “You’ve turned somewhat domineering over the years, Nicholas, as well as opinionated—attitudes I’ve never appreciated. I also don’t appreciate that you’re apparently fine possessing paintings that you know firsthand were taken from their rightful owners. Then there’s your house.” She glanced at it again, then back to him. “While not a castle, it’s a magnificent home, but you’re apparently still not satisfied since it’s not in the latest most desirable part of the city.” She let out a breath and laid a hand on his arm. “We’ve taken different paths in life, my old friend, and those paths, I’m afraid, are not meant to converge any longer. With that said, allow us to bid each other a fond good-bye, knowing that our friendship is not meant to continue on, but our memories from when we were young will be with us forever.”