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LATER INTO THE NIGHT . . .
I spent the remainder of that evening and on into the wee hours of the following morning packing my valises and hatboxes, sans the bonnet I had worn tonight, of course, and the one I left behind on the beach when I offered to help the smugglers rescue their boat from the pounding waves.
I had refrained from asking Mr. Sheridan exactly what he meant to do with my lovely bonnet, which he had insisted I remove and hand over to him tonight. A pang of regret pricked me when I recalled how it was very prettily decorated with a clump of blue silk flowers. But, perhaps he intended to use it as proof that he had, indeed, sent me tumbling over the cliff and all that was left of me was my bonnet, which flew off my head moments before my lifeless body disappeared beneath the waves.
At this juncture, I truly did not wish to leave Margate but apparently I had no say in the matter. Truth was I had accomplished all that I set out to do here. Priscilla Tremont was now safe in the arms of her family, and I had provided Constable Fuller with the name of the man responsible for Anna Jeffries murder, so, other than to pass a few leisurely days upon the seashore, I daresay I was leaving nothing of import undone.
Therefore, once all my belongings were again tucked into a pair of valises, I did as Mr. Sheridan requested and dressed in as darkly-colored a gown as I possessed, although my old cloth cloak, the one I had previously worn to watch the sunrise, was all I had with which to cover my gown. How I might go about fashioning a veil to one of my bonnets gave me pause until I recalled that I had purchased a black lace handkerchief following Marianne Chalmers’ death and that it was likely still within my handkerchief case. I retrieved it, and in short order, it soon constituted a veil that did a creditable job of hiding my face. All in all, I was in hopes that my efforts to disguise myself would prove sufficient. I suppose if one did not look too very closely, I could pass for a woman in mourning.
I was very nearly ready to depart, but before doing so, I had to speak with Wendy. Stealing down the corridor in the darkness, I quietly rapped at Cathleen’s bedchamber door, knowing that Wendy would likely be the one to peek out. Sure enough, when her sleepy countenance did appear, I merely motioned for her to follow me back to my room.
Blinking sleep from her eyes, Wendy stood in the doorway of my bedchamber, gazing about my untidy room. “Ye’ goin’ somewheres, miss? Now?”
“Indeed, Wendy, I am returning to London straightaway and before the carriage arrives to collect me, I need you to help me remove my things from my bedchamber to the foyer, please.”
“Very well, miss.” She bent to pick up my heaviest valise and also a couple of hatboxes.
I did likewise and we both trouped down the stairs and set everything near the door. We made the same trip twice more. Then, I again led the way back up the stairs to my bedchamber, where I scooped up the frock and bonnet I had purchased to wear on the beach to rescue Priscilla. The Manchester cotton gown was not nearly so fetching as any of my other gowns; still it was far finer than the thread-bear garments Wendy usually wore. This one featured a wide green ribbon sash (although it was decidedly frayed on the ends) whereas both of the gowns I had seen Wendy wear were plain brown fustian with no trim or embellishments to set one apart from the other.
“I thought perhaps you could make use of this gown and bonnet, Wendy.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, my, miss; indeed, I shall. Thank ye’!” She unfurled the frock and held it up before her slim body. “Ain’t that fine?”
“You might need to take up the hem a bit,” I said, standing back to assess the length. “But, otherwise, I expect it will fit you nicely.”
“I’ll save it for special,” she murmured, gazing down at the front of the gown, beneath which she was wearing only her night shift.
“You must not save it, Wendy, you must wear it. It will look lovely on you. Promise me you will wear it.”
Smiling, she nodded eagerly. “Very well, miss. I shall wear it, and also the bonnet. Thank you ever so.”
“Perhaps you could find a ribbon to dress up the bonnet.”
Wendy nodded. “Perhaps.”
“I also wanted to give you this.” Drawing apart the strings of my reticule, I withdrew a two-pound note and handed it to her.
She studied the bank note, then cast a curious gaze at me. “Why are you giving me money, miss? I ain’t never seen so much in all me life.”
“I am giving it to you, Wendy, because you have been a great help to me whilst I have been here. I want you to have it as a reward. But, it is to be our secret. You are to say nothing to anyone, save Aunt Helen; that is, Mrs. O’Mara, about where the funds came from. Do not say a word to any of your friends. Is that understood?”
The girl was nodding, her brown eyes wide. “Not even to me mum?”
“Well, perhaps to your mother, but to no one else, and you must admonish your mother to also be silent about where the money came from.”
Because the girl’s expression had grown curiouser and curiouser, I ascertained she was uncertain what the word ‘admonish’ meant.
“You must tell your mother to say nothing about it to any of her friends either,” I repeated; then paused, uncertain how much I should reveal to Wendy about last night’s charade regarding the staging of my death and the disposal of my body into the sea from the cliff top. I believed I should say something since it was likely that sooner or later word amongst the villagers, or even those members of the South Kent Gang who happened to evade capture, would leak out that I had been killed and my body dumped into the ocean. Therefore it would not do for me to have handed Wendy a sum of money on the morning after I had presumably been dispatched to the bottom of the sea. Plus, there was no saying whether or not Mr. Sheridan’s ambitious plan to capture the entire South Kent Gang would meet with success. All manner of unforeseen events could occur to dash his scheme to the ground. He could even get himself killed, although I did not wish that fate to befall him.
“I’ve not got a great deal of time left now to divulge all the facts of the matter, Wendy, but suffice to say that if you should hear that . . . that I am no longer alive, that I was brutally killed and my body thrown from the top of a cliff into the ocean, do not dispute it. No matter what you hear of the matter, Wendy, you must say nothing to the contrary.”
“Not even to Mrs. O’Mara, or Mrs. Chalmers?”
“I have taken the precaution of composing a note of explanation for Mrs. O’Mara.” I moved to the small desk in my room to retrieve the folded-up page. “I would like you to give it to her later this morning, after I have departed. I will write to Mrs. Chalmers once I have returned home to London,” I added, and to myself thought that I would also pen a note to Olivia Tremont with some sort of explanation as to my sudden decision to leave Margate.
Wendy slipped the missive into the pocket of the new gown I had given to her, along with the precious bank note. Although it was not yet first light, at that moment, the sound of clip-clopping horses’ hooves on the cobblestone street below reached my ears. John had arrived to carry me to the wharf to catch the early morning steam ship back to London.
“I believe the coach has arrived to collect me. Come, you may help me carry my bags from the house to the curb. But, remember, say nothing to anyone in Margate regarding what we have just spoken of.”
Upon reaching the foyer, I spotted a ball of ginger fur curled up atop my portmanteau. Smiling, I bent to scoop Pansy up in my arms for one last cuddle. “I wish you could come with me, sweet Pansy. I shall miss you terribly.”
At that moment, I heard a noise on the stairs and turned to find Aunt Helen making a slow descent. Still wearing her nightcap, she was now tying the sash of her dressing gown about her middle. “I thought I heard someone up and about in the house.”
“Please forgive me for disturbing you, Aunt Helen. Evidently I was not as quiet as I wished to be. I find I must leave Margate at once. Wendy has been helping me with my things.”
“Shall I take ‘em out to the coach now, miss?”
Turning to her, I nodded. “Please, do, and tell the driver I shall be along soon.”
Aunt Helen waited nearby. When Wendy was safely out of earshot, I said, “Something dreadful happened last evening, Aunt Helen. I attempted to explain it all to you in a note I left with Wendy. I told her to give it to you this morning after I was gone. I feel ghastly about . . . oh, I do hope my actions have not put you and Cathleen in danger.”
“You needn’t worry on that score, dear. I am certain we shall all get on very well; Cathleen, her babe, and myself.” Aunt Helen reached to embrace me, then drew back. “You look as if you are in mourning, Juliette. Did you receive word that someone dear to you has . . .”
“No, not that. Mr. Sheridan thought it prudent of me to dress thusly. I explained everything to you in my note.” Tears began to gather in my eyes. “I shall never forget your kindness, Aunt Helen. Thank you for allowing me to stay. And, promise me you will write and . . . and assure me that you, and Cathleen, are safe. I would never forgive myself if . . .”
“I am certain there is no cause for alarm, dear. Captain O’Mara’s reputation is all the protection we need.”
“I do hope you are right.” I smiled shakily as I attempted to sniff away my tears. “Do tell Cathleen I will write to her. I shall miss you both terribly. But things have reached such a pass here in Margate that I had no choice but to depart straightaway. In fact, Mr. Sheridan insisted upon it.”
“Well, try not to fret, dear. Cathleen and I shall be fine.”
My smile was tearful. “Thank you, Aunt Helen. I shall never forget you, or . . .” At that moment, a plaintive mew interrupted me. I looked down. “I shall never forget you either, little Pansy.”
Aunt Helen smiled. “Pansy doesn’t take to everyone, you know.”
* * *
MY RETURN VOYAGE TO London seemed to pass far more quickly than the journey to reach the seaside village a fortnight ago. A part of me was sorry my holiday by the sea had drawn to an end so abruptly. But I knew it could not be helped.
On my way from the busy pier in London to my home in Mayfair, I genuinely did wonder how things had turned out for Mr. Sheridan. Had he and the constable and his men actually managed to capture and bring down the entire South Kent Gang, with no harm befalling Mr. Sheridan? I sincerely hoped his plan to run the gang to ground had not met with violent resistance and that the treacherous gang of ruffians had indeed been captured and no longer posed a threat to anyone. I also hoped the smugglers believed he had dispatched me to the bottom of the sea as he promised, meaning that Aunt Helen and Cathleen were also now safe.
I suppose I could have queried Mr. Sheridan’s valet this morning about the previous night’s outcome, but perhaps it was still too early and he would not yet have known what happened. Plus, my mind, and perhaps also his, was far too occupied with securing my passage, of a sudden, as it were, and with getting all of my belongings loaded onto the ship. Consequently Mr. Sheridan’s valet and I exchanged little to no conversation beyond me thanking him for collecting me and carrying me to the pier so very early this morning.
I resolved that in the coming days, I would scour The London Times in the hope of learning whatever I could in regard to either the capture, or the continued presence, of smuggling rings in and around the Kentish coast, something that before my sojourn to the area, I had been completely unaware of.
But, now that I was back home, I must forget all that happened in Margate and turn my thoughts to other things, namely what to do with myself now that I had returned to London. I decided that first thing tomorrow morning I would call upon Mr. Phelps at his New Bond Street Auction House to inquire if his offer of employment still held. If so, I would gladly accept a position with that gentleman’s firm, which meant there was no saying precisely what I might be doing in the coming days. However, I knew the work would be interesting and I would enjoy it immensely. Although, with all my heart I prayed I would never again encounter a gang of ruffians who wished to dispatch me to the bottom of the sea.
And should I happen to ever encounter Mr. Sheridan again whilst here in London, or elsewhere in England, I would not shrink from the prospect. He was not an unattractive man, nor was he unkind. And I believe he fancied me a bit. I also felt certain a good many things between us had been left unsaid. For my part, I truly wished to thank him from the depths of my heart for sparing my life; otherwise my own untimely death would have constituted yet one more murder in Margate. And, in my estimation, there had already been far too many of those.
