CHAPTER 14

Frances hadn’t realized how tightly wound she had been in the Red Kangaroo. The unfamiliar place and people, the disagreements, and the violence had taken their toll, and she was suddenly limp.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

“Just exhausted. It wasn’t a bad place, but I have no wish to return,” said Frances.

“Of course not, my lady,” said Mallow, and Frances smiled. She longed for a cup of tea and her bed.

Back in the welcoming familiarity of Miss Plimsoll’s, Frances paid off Mr. Tomkinson with a generous gratuity and her thanks and headed inside, where the night porter let them in. There were two letters waiting for her.

The first letter was from Hal, in his neat lawyerly hand, confirming he’d be at dinner the night after, as they had discussed, and that he was looking forward to it.

The second had a crest, and Frances recognized it. But she’d open it later.

“You’re back late,” she heard and looked up to see Charles coming out of the lounge.

“Charles, what are you doing here so late? You’re well? And Mary?”

“We’re well. I was reading, waiting for you to return.” He looked at her dress. “At the soup kitchen?”

“Where else would I be in this outfit?” said Frances.

“And, Mallow, you are now accompanying your mistress to the soup kitchen? Very noble of you.”

Mallow hated lying to his lordship. He was a marquess and was very important in government. He even knew the King! But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it.

“Thank you, my lord. I frequently meet her ladyship there to escort her home.”

“Commendable. I just came by to give you a piece of news before you heard it elsewhere—and started drawing wrong conclusions. General Audendale died earlier today. Franny—” he said, forestalling her protests, “he was an old man and went peacefully in his sleep, tended by the local doctor and loyal servants. I know how busy you’ve been, looking for the Colcombe manuscript, but don’t start reading anything into this. Now, it’s late. I’ll just grab a hansom at the corner.” He gave his sister a kiss on her cheek, then turned to Mallow.

“I trust you will take good care of my sister?” he said.

“Of course, my lord,” said Mallow.

“Excellent,” he said and quickly headed for the door. But not quickly enough.

“Charles, just a few questions.”

He turned back and sighed. “I knew I wouldn’t get out of here without your making an issue out of this. What?”

Frances felt sad about the general but also a surge of excitement. This was too much to be a coincidence, no matter what Charles said. And it was an opportunity. “Who is settling the general’s estate? He has that large house and must have a vast accumulation of papers and other items from his long life and career to sort through.”

“His only close family is a married daughter in India. The local solicitor will be settling everything, probably selling the house, putting anything his daughter wants into storage, and paying off the remaining servants. Why do you ask?”

“I thought I could help. There’s no one to oversee the servants properly. A village solicitor is not going to know how to supervise them.”

“Franny, did you become a solicitor all of a sudden?” He smiled.

“Of course not. I can’t do that work. But I can make sure valuable items are handled properly and everything else is sold, donated, or thrown out. I can box up confidential family papers. You will admit that I learned from our mother how a great house should be run. Servants will give me respect as the daughter of a marquess that they will not give to some local solicitor. And I’ll have Mallow with me as well.”

Charles gave that some thought. “Franny, is this some sort of trick?”

“What trick? You always tell me to do something useful and not poke my nose where it doesn’t belong. What is more respectable than helping sort through the effects of a late family friend—a brother officer?”

Charles pursed his lips. “You make a lot of sense. I have to agree with you.” Then he grinned. “And you won’t be making trouble in London for a few days. Good idea. We’ll have to run it by the solicitor, but I’m sure he’ll be thrilled not to have to take on that work. I’ll send a telegram in the morning. Good night again.”

He saw himself out, and upstairs Mallow made some tea while Frances put biscuits on a plate.

“A very long evening, Mallow. And I should say, you handled yourself with remarkable grace.”

“Thank you, my lady.” She poured tea for both of them. “I wouldn’t want you to think that I was used to such establishments, however. Except as part of your work, my lady, I would never enter a place like that.”

“Of course not, Mallow. I never thought you would. Oh—tomorrow night, Mr. Wheaton will be dining here.”

“We must think of your outfit then, my lady.”

“It’s just the dining room downstairs, Mallow. We don’t have to do anything fancy.”

“As I’ve said before, gentlemen like to see ladies well turned out.”

Frances raised an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”

“Your late mother, the marchioness, God rest her soul, my lady. More tea? Or are you ready for bed?”

Relaxed and comfortable in her favorite nightgown and tucked in nicely in bed, Frances toyed with her unopened letter. Fear and excitement went through her in equal parts. She slit it open to read the note in Gareth’s elegant hand.

Dearest Franny,

I was speaking with my cousin Genevieve, your colleague in the suffragist movement. She is quite an admirer of yours. Not only do you give your all to that group, but Genevieve tells me you provided great assistance in Rev. Joseph Ollivet’s excellent work in rehabilitating members of the criminal class who are trying to forge a new life. And I ask you this: if robbers and thieves are worthy of a second chance, why not me? Think on that, dear girl, and then think on our kiss outside the theater, and tell me—no, tell yourself—honestly if you can truly say you will never see me again.

Yours till next we meet,

Gareth

Frances read it several times but couldn’t make up her mind what to do. Why did he have to bring up that kiss? She had so wanted to forget it but knew she never would.

Finally, irritated at herself, she decided to think about it tomorrow. She folded the letter carefully and put it on her night table before turning off the light. Frances then tried to think about General Audendale. Yes, he had been sick, but it was quite a coincidence. Soon, however, she was thinking of nothing, fast asleep in her bed.

The next morning, Frances had a good breakfast and then reviewed her list of meetings planned and calls to make. She had been giving some thought on whom she should approach next about the manuscript, but now, on further reflection, that didn’t seem necessary. She recalled the past days: violence seemed to trail her in the mews, in Mr. Bramwell’s carriage, outside the Red Kangaroo. But oddly, it didn’t touch her directly. And she thought she knew why.

However, all this did indicate that others had some interest, some very serious interest, in the manuscript. Jock and Andy had some definite thoughts on the matter, and so did some of the highest in the land. She bet the protective Colonel Mountjoy of His Majesty’s Secret Service would have something to say. The keeper of secrets would no doubt visit her again. And this time, she would press him as she had pressed Inspector Eastley. Audendale’s death meant something, she was sure of it, and if nothing else, it would be a catalyst. Although Frances liked to forge ahead, she counseled herself to be patient and see if anything she had said would set others in motion first.

In deference to the hotel’s somewhat more casual atmosphere, Mallow eventually decided on something less ornate than Frances had worn when dining at the Wheaton house. Frances had explained this to Hal. Still, he showed up dressed elegantly in a new waistcoat.

“We’ll make a dandy out of you yet,” said Frances. The women gathered in the hallway to enter the dining room as the gong was rung. Tonight, Hal was the only male guest, and Frances had to make many introductions to satisfy everyone’s curiosity. It wasn’t that men were completely uncommon; for example, once a week, the son of old Lady Comstock joined her for dinner. Ideally, she should be living with him, but she and her daughter-in-law detested each other. And about once a month, the Bishop of Somerset came to town and dined with his sister, Mrs. Jasper. But to have a young man, unrelated to anyone, as a guest was a cause for excitement. Hal handled it with aplomb, Frances was pleased to see.

After they were seated, Hal said, “Your brother told me this morning that you’ll be helping settle the Audendale estate. I had told him and his local solicitors that I was prepared to step in if they needed any help at the London end. But that won’t be necessary with Franny on the job.”

Frances laughed, and Hal enjoyed the way her eyes crinkled up.

“I told Charles I was just trying to be helpful. But I sensed there was some things left unsaid. And servants always know more than they admit. With their master gone, Mallow and I might be able to get them to talk.”

“But please be careful,” said Hal. Hal’s eyes were usually a sharp green, but now they seemed softer, like the color of a new leaf.

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I certainly will,” she said. “And now you can help me with strategy.”

“Ah, you want me to help you think like a lawyer. Actually, I could travel down to Egdon Hall with you if you’d like.”

“I would love to have you there—but as a London lawyer, you’d make the servants nervous. They won’t suspect anything from a young lady who came just to pay off the servants, make sure accounts are up to date, and see the rugs get rolled up carefully. But teach me how to be clever like a lawyer.”

And Hal did. He explained about what to look for in bank books—were there inexplicable transfers of money? That might be a signal to casually ask servants about any changes around the same time. Bills for private messenger services may indicate something important and secret being shipped. Were typists or secretaries hired at any time? There was no telling what exactly Audendale’s connection with the manuscript might have been, but his paperwork could provide clues. Perhaps there were even old diaries that could help answer the question about why the Australians—at least some of them—detested him, although Colcombe and Charles both held him in esteem.

“It seems like such a muddle. Violence is following this manuscript, but I can’t see who’s pulling the strings. People seem to think I may have it, but whatever gave them that idea?”

“Did you study Latin at Vassar?” asked Hal.

“Yes, a little. Caesar marching through Gaul and Virgil going on and on about shepherds.”

Hal laughed. “Exactly. I ask because lawyers love Latin. And there’s one phrase in particular we like: cui bono?”

“‘To whose benefit?’” said Frances.

“Yes. Why should someone want the manuscript published? Why should someone want it hidden?”

“But we don’t even know what’s in it. No one seems to know,” said Frances.

“Yes. I find that very interesting,” said Hal. “Don’t you?”

Frances sliced another bite of chicken. “It doesn’t seem to matter with the fear it has created. Men are dead because of it.”

“Men? I know of Daniel Colcombe. But who else?”

Of course, she hadn’t told him about Barnstable. Frances told him quickly about their meeting and how she was summoned to the site of his death.

“I didn’t realize quite how deeply you were committed to this, Franny. Multiple murders and Scotland Yard inspectors. You’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest.”

“I should be frightened, I know. But I do believe I have a guardian angel.”

“That’s a little fanciful for you,” said Hal.

She told him everything and was touched to see how concerned he was. “So you see, I was stalked in the mews—but my pursuer was knocked out before he could reach me. Then a man attacked Mr. Bramwell, and I escaped. But the attack was well planned. If they had wanted to get me, I think they could’ve. Why didn’t they? And after a man threatened me in the Red Kangaroo, he was given a thorough beating just moments later. I’m surrounded by violence—but it hasn’t really touched me.”

“And what do you conclude?”

“Nothing—yet. But I have some ideas. And don’t worry. Mallow is prepared to defend me with a fearsome rolling pin.”

Hal laughed. And it was time to change the subject, Frances concluded. The man was courting her, and she was talking about murder. Also, even with his liberal outlook, he’d eventually try to talk her out of any further involvement.

“But enough of this. You have been very helpful, and now I want to hear about you. Tell me about your next painting project. You do marvelously with seascapes; why not try outdoors in London? Landscapes in the park?”

Hal looked a little uncomfortable. “You don’t think it would seem a somewhat . . . foolish pastime if a business acquaintance saw me?”

Frances shook her head. “As I said, my brother plays golf. Badly. And there are men who stand in cold water trying to catch trout. Why is painting in oils foolish? Perhaps if you were forthright about it, you would change the opinions of others. You would be a leader—start a fashion.”

Hal cocked his head and thought about it. “Lady Frances, I love the way you look at the world.”

“Mr. Wheaton, you do give the nicest compliments.”

After dinner, Hal and Frances had brandy in the lounge along with a few residents who were reading a novel or a lady’s magazine or busying themselves with embroidery. She could sense his disappointment they didn’t have the room to themselves. However, they didn’t have to wait long—soon the other women said good night. And Frances was sure at least one of them flashed a knowing smile.

“Franny—” he said, and he had that look about him she recognized, that he was about to say something important, something he had thought about. “There is no one like you. I realize that more and more. Still, I knew your father. I can’t imagine that you—even you—were able to persuade him to let you study in America.”

Hal wanted to know more about her. Well, she’d tell him.

“Yes, ‘even me.’ It was my mother in the end. Father was convinced I’d do something to embarrass the family horribly if I wasn’t watched every moment. My mother told him that I’d embarrass the family right here in London. If I were in America, my antics would occur among people who didn’t know us. The logic was inescapable.”

She had expected that would make Hal laugh or at least smile, but he looked serious.

“I can’t imagine you doing anything to embarrass your family,” he said.

Oh really? thought Frances. “When I was twelve, at our country estate, I was so furious I had to ride sidesaddle that I dressed myself in one of Charles’s outgrown pairs of pants and sneaked onto his already saddled horse. I scandalized half the county before they caught up with me.

“Then my debutante year, going out of my mind with boredom at the so distinguished Brantley House ball, I convinced half a dozen other young ladies to abandon their chaperones and join me in a champagne-drenched carriage ride through the park in the middle of the night. It took a long time for my father to forgive that particular escapade.

“And,” she continued, “all of that paled in comparison with the time—the first time—my family found out I not only had visited Scotland Yard but had done so alone. At least my father had been somewhat amused when his assistant at the Foreign Office had nervously told him that the newest applicant for a junior clerk position in his department was his own daughter—but for a lady to involve herself with the police!

“And finally, dear Hal, do you want to hear about my speaking in the park about universal suffrage? That was more outrageous than anything previous, as far as the family was concerned. Have you really given any thought to the fact that I’ve actually involved myself in a murder investigation? And it would take another evening just to take in my American antics. If my parents knew half of what I did . . .”

Frances hadn’t realized at first what she was doing. An amusing story had become an outpouring, and now she just sat there watching Hal, unable to read his placid face. He, in turn, looked at her, defiance all over her face—but did he see a little fear there too?

After a few moments, Hal put the palm of his hand on her cheek, then he leaned in and, as she closed her eyes, gave her an unbearably sweet kiss.

“I know your feelings about me and about marriage. But I will tell you now, I don’t see how I could go back to a life without you. Have a good journey and know that I will come at a moment’s notice if you want me. Thank you for dinner and good night.”

She walked him to the door and said a final good-night. When he was gone, her first thought was that, once more, a man had left her speechless. She was certainly learning a thing or two, including the extent of her own ignorance. Frances was pleased she had not disenchanted Hal. And he never told her to stop what she was doing. He kept surprising her.

After the carriage stunt with the other debutantes, her father had threatened to send her to live at a grimly austere Spanish convent he knew of—never mind that the Seaforths were solid members of the Church of England. Now, as she tried to sort out her feelings for Hal and Gareth, Frances realized that there was no doubt nunnery life would’ve simplified many things.