CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
And Yet
“. . . there are days and times that it would be very inconvenient to have him in society.”
Bury, Charlotte, The Diary of a Lady-in-Waiting
As soon as Rosalind and Amelia reached Orchard Street, Amelia flew up the stairs. Rosalind heard her and Alice’s voices raised in an energetic duet of mutual exclamations and recriminations. Then a door slammed, and quiet settled over the house.
Rosalind went into the parlor and sat down in front of the cold fireplace. The windows had been opened, but there was no breeze, only additional heat and the occasional noise from the street.
She tried to compose herself to patience, but her thoughts would not settle. She needed to be doing . . . something. But what could she do? Mrs. Fitzherbert had declared, in no uncertain terms, that their association was at an end.
Rosalind had failed her.
Rosalind had failed.
It did not matter that it had been so few days. It did not matter that the task had been impossible from the beginning. She had promised that she would help, and she had not.
She might even have made matters worse.
At the very beginning of this business, Burrowes had tried to warn Rosalind that it was not her fellow staff members who had perpetrated the theft and betrayal of Mrs. Fitzherbert. She had tried to steer Rosalind toward the young women.
Had Burrowes known Miss Seymore was meeting George Dawson? Had she known that they planned to elope together?
Rosalind closed her eyes and tried again to calm her roiling thoughts. She was so focused that she did not hear the door open or the footsteps on the carpet. But she felt the brush of familiar warmth against her skin, and her eyes flew open.
“Adam.”
He took both her hands and drew her to her feet and into his arms. They held on to each other for a very long time.
When at last they parted, Rosalind asked, “What did you learn?”
“A great deal,” he said. “But nothing that gets us any closer to our answers.”
They sat together, holding hands. She waited, letting him gather his thoughts.
“Faller was beaten to death, as you will have heard. The neighbors heard and saw a great deal, but no two of them agreed on what it was. I have been to Sir David, and he is not best pleased and gives me one more day before he convenes the inquest and, I suspect, reconsiders hiring me as an assistant.” His sigh was harsh, and his anger at himself palpable. Rosalind pressed his hands, but he only shook his head. “George found me at the Pooles.”
“Where is he now?” asked Rosalind.
“At the newspaper, trying to make sure the story of Tom Faller’s death is framed . . . less sensationally than it might otherwise be.”
Rosalind nodded. “Let us hope he succeeds, but I am not sure it can be done.” She caught the grim hesitation in Adam’s demeanor. “What else?”
“Mrs. Poole lied to you,” he said. “The man in the scarlet coat you saw . . . That was not George Dawson. It was Tom Faller.”
So. “Did she give a reason for her deception?”
“She said it was because she was angry at Dawson. She says he has been pressing her for a look at her husband’s papers.”
“Do you believe her?”
“About that much, yes,” said Adam. “We know that Dawson was under obligation to Poole. It makes sense that he might try to remove the evidence of it.”
And this would explain why his was the name that came so readily to Mrs. Poole’s tongue.
“Faller had an argument with Judith,” Adam went on. “Or so I was told. And he ran from the house. She left sometime afterward and has not been seen since.”
Rosalind thought of Judith—her red eyes and her determination, her habit of touching the particular spot beneath her collar when she thought of her husband. She thought of her loyalty to Mr. Poole, who turned every obligation into profit for himself.
She thought of the story Judith had told her, of Mr. Poole freeing “a man” she knew who was languishing in Newgate. Surely that was Tom Faller who had been imprisoned and released only because of the intercession of a man who had his wife under his thumb and who wanted only to make use of him.
What might a man in such circumstances be driven to try?
“What of the papers kept at the house?” asked Rosalind.
“Mrs. Poole says they have been burnt.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I don’t know,” said Adam. “She was perfectly ready to lie at any moment. Her brother says there is nothing left for her but to protect her family, and that I do believe. And it is clear to me that need is driving her into darkness.” He shook his head. “I did see a heap of ashes in the grate. There had been a fire there, and it had been burning within the past few hours.” He paused and frowned at his own thoughts. “But I tell you, Rosalind, the whole time I had the feeling I had forgotten something or missed something or simply botched the entire business.”
Rosalind pressed his hands again. Adam turned a rueful face to her. “And now have to go rouse the Fitzherbert household. Will you come with me? Mrs. Fitzherbert will need to be questioned, as will the girls. They might be more forthcoming to you.”
“I’m afraid they would not,” she said. “I’ve already been sent away from the Fitzherberts’, as has Amelia.”
“What happened?”
“When I heard about Tom Faller’s death, I went to see her. I meant to warn her and to learn what I could. But it seems Mrs. Fitzherbert has had enough.” She paused to make sure her voice did not shake. Adam noticed. Of course he noticed. “She dismissed me. She is sending her daughters back to her brother’s, and she plans to quit the country for good and all.”
“I find I cannot blame her.”
“No. However, she may yet be in for an unpleasant surprise. Amelia says Minney Seymore plans to elope.”
Adam straightened. “She saw Dawson? He is still in London?”
“I don’t know the details yet. Let me go see if . . . she’s able to talk.”
Rosalind left Adam there and went upstairs to knock on Alice’s door. “Amelia? Adam needs to speak with you.”
“Yes, of course,” came the answer from the other side of the door. “I will be down in just a moment.”
Rosalind returned to the parlor. Adam raised his brows. She pointedly ignored him and settled herself by the windows. He joined her there and took her hand again. She held his gratefully.
Amelia and Alice both descended the stairs a few moments later, and if they were slightly flushed and ruffled, it was not enough to be worth mentioning.
“Rosalind says that Minney Seymore plans to elope?” Adam asked. “How did you find out?”
“I saw him,” said Amelia. “You know Captain Dawson and Miss Seymore had met in the garden? Well, Mrs. Fitzherbert found out about it, or maybe she just guessed. Anyway, she was determined to keep the young ladies under her eye until they could be sent back to her brother’s house. Well, Miss Seymore, she asked me if I could help her get a message to someone, and she gave me two sovereigns for it.”
“You never told me that part,” said Alice.
“It’s gone into the school fund,” said Amelia. “Well, it seemed to me, especially with Faller gone, I should play the part, so I agreed. It was plain they’d done this before, those two girls. They had it all worked out. Miss Mary Ann, she complained to her mama that it was too hot and she needed to take the air, and she promised to take me with her. Mrs. Fitzherbert agreed, so long as we were not gone above an hour, and so long as I did not let her out of my sight.
“Quite frankly—and you’ll have to forgive me, Alice—it was like something out of a three-volume novel. We walked to the high street and went into the milliner’s shop. There was an officer there, scarlet coat and gold braid and all—tall, dark haired, with bright blue eyes. Very handsome and everything you’d want your romantic hero to be. Miss Mary Ann starts into inquiring about a hat, and she drops her bag. The officer, he retrieves it, all polite. She says thank you and makes a great show of checking the bag.
“ ‘Everything is all right,’ she says, and he says, ‘Seven of the clock.’ Then he bows and leaves, and we go back home, and she goes back to her sister, and they close the door on me.” She said this last with an air of apology. “It was only a short time after this that Miss Thorne came to tell us that Tom Faller had been killed.”
“Oh my Lord!” cried Alice. “We haven’t a moment to lose! Rosalind, you must send to Sanderson to ask for the loan of his carriage and his fastest horses. He may want to drive himself, and then . . .”
“We will not need Sanderson’s carriage,” said Rosalind.
“But surely they’re planning to run for Gretna Green!” said Alice, naming the famous spot for clandestine marriages just across the Scottish border. The Scots’ marriage laws did not require a license or banns published or any other of the formalities of English church law.
“If Captain Dawson needs to flee the country, he’s going to need a quicker and surer exit,” said Rosalind. “As soon as Miss Seymore is missed, Mrs. Fitzherbert will guess what’s happened, and she will surely have them followed. It is better that they be married quickly and quietly in London and then fly to Dover together. If, that is, he means to take her with him.”
“Oh,” said Alice, deflated.
“You have given this some thought,” remarked Adam.
Rosalind’s mouth twitched. “I receive a large number of inquiries from ladies who fear their daughters plan to elope. Some of them actually go through with it. When the young ladies are recovered, I try to hear the details of the plan. It is most instructive.”
“I’m certain it is,” remarked Adam.
“And, as it happens, a surprising number of London clergy will marry a couple without asking inconvenient questions or bothering too terribly about technicalities like baans,” Rosalind went on. “In fact, there are two churches within a reasonable distance of Tilney Street where an eager young couple can obtain a legal enough license and undergo a ceremony for a relatively affordable sum.”
Adam’s hand strayed to his coat pocket.
Rosalind frowned. “Is something the matter?”
“Too much to mention just now,” he said. “So. From what Amelia tells us, and from the abrupt return of the young women from the country, we can presume this elopement has been planned for some time.”
“And it may be that Miss Seymore and Captain Dawson between them planned to steal the certificate to fund their escape, but matters spiraled out of control,” said Rosalind.
“Poole could even have convinced them that it was their best chance,” added Alice. “And they might have believed it, given the family plans to separate them.”
“That’s a kind thought,” said Amelia. “But what if Dawson decided this was his chance to permanently end his obligations to Poole?”
“Unfortunately, that is a very real possibility,” said Adam. “Dawson could have agreed to arrange the theft and then killed Poole and kept the certificate for himself.”
“But then why not take the letters?” asked Rosalind. “If Dawson was in the carriage, and he stole Poole’s keys so he could get to his rooms, why did he leave the incriminating letters behind?”
“But those letters weren’t all that incriminating,” said Alice. “I read them. It was the normal stuff of a young man’s troubles, except—” She stopped.
“Except for the one that suggests he and Poole meet to discuss his situation,” said Adam. “That becomes very important, although he may or may not have thought of it at the time.” He paused, considering. “I have felt from the beginning that the scene at the White Swan was a distraction. If Mrs. Poole was telling the truth, and Dawson had been hectoring her, he must have believed Poole was keeping any letters he wanted at his home.”
“I wonder,” murmured Alice. “If Dawson had been visiting the Pooles, could it be that something he said convinced Mrs. Poole to burn the papers? Could he have threatened her? Or persuaded her somehow?”
“Perhaps he let her know that she might be blamed for Poole’s death, and Faller’s,” suggested Rosalind. “And she took the simplest route out of the difficulty.”
“It’s possible,” said Adam.
“But Miss Minney cannot have been involved in any of this,” said Amelia. “They’d all have to have been plotting while she was still in the country.”
“But they didn’t need her, not for the planning,” said Alice. “Dawson would have known that Faller was helping Minney. If Poole had recruited Dawson to get the certificate, Dawson could have gone straight to Faller. He might even have made it sound like the idea was really from Minney, to get Faller to go along with it.”
“And Faller drove the carriage?” said Adam.
Rosalind felt the blood drain from her cheeks. Of course, the others noticed.
“What is it?” asked Adam.
“You told us the driver was fully muffled,” said Rosalind softly. “Could the driver have been Minney Seymore?” It was fashionable, if slightly scandalous, for a young woman to know how to drive.
“Or could Minney Seymore have been the person inside the carriage?” returned Adam. “Sir David said the blow could have been struck by a woman.”
“And,” said Rosalind, “could Tom Faller have been killed because he knew and threatened to tell?”
“There’s something else,” said Alice.
They all turned to her.
“If the plans all failed, Minney Seymore could be brought to testify against Captain Dawson.”
Rosalind realized what she meant. “But she cannot be made to testify if she is his wife.”