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Marguerite had been true to her word. The carriage was at the front of the club seemingly seconds after Clara and Red exited. They both climbed in with controlled haste.
"You must get us away from here as quickly as possible," said Clara.
Marguerite gave a healthy crack to the reins and the horses took off. The carriage rocked back and forth as they went careening down the street.
"You were spectacular, ma'am," said Red, looking out the window. "I was sure that they were on to us!"
"We're not safe yet," said Clara nervously. "They all got a very good look at us towards the end and I suspect that word of our infiltration will reach Trevor Beltza far quicker than I would like."
Neither of them spoke anymore until they reached the house. Marguerite drove them all around back, not wanting to risk any prying eyes from seeing who was inside.
The alley behind the house was empty and as soon as they arrived, Red hopped out, ready to take over. Marguerite shook her head. "Get inside and get changed. Wesley will have your head if you ruin his rented clothes."
The door to the kitchen opened and Mr. Willard waved at them to come inside. "Really, you're being so loud it is a wonder you are even attempting some sort of subterfuge."
Clara ran inside with Red fast behind her. "Perhaps we can hope that we are hiding in plain sight."
"How was it, Clara?" Mr. Willard asked, taking her things and shooing them both inside.
"Quite informative," said Clara, exchanging a nervous glance with Red.
Wesley was standing in the hallway and rushed to Clara the moment the door was safely shut. He held her close. "Thank god you are safe!"
Mr. Willard cleared his throat. "He's been pacing the hallway since the moment you left and every five minutes I had to remind him not to go peering out the windows."
"If anything had happened to you..." Wesley said, gripping Clara's hand to his heart.
She gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. She wanted to fling her arms around his neck and stay there in the safety of his embrace. But such exuberant displays of affection would have to wait for more private moments. Instead she extricated herself and said, "Perhaps we should all retire to the dining room."
"If you will excuse me for just a moment, ma'am," Red said with a polite bow, indicating he was ready to be rid of the restrictive borrowed cloths.
"Right this way, Red," said Wesley, clapping him on the back. "I shall serve as your own personal valet tonight in gratitude for seeing Mrs. O'Hare safely home."
The two men went on upstairs and Marguerite came in, stomping her boots and wiping away the city muck. "Daisy has been seen to. Settling in with a nice nose of oats which should keep her busy until Red can retire." Marguerite rubbed her hands together. "Brisk evening, isn't it? Perhaps a little something to warm me up?"
Clara smiled and led Marguerite into the dining room, indicating the woman should help herself to any of the stronger spirits she might wish to partake. Marguerite looked over her shoulder. "Care for some?"
Clara shook her head and collapsed on the chair. "I am afraid that even if I drank every drop in that decanter, it would still not chase away this chill."
Marguerite poured the amber liquid into a crystal tumbler. She downed it in one draught and filled it again. "I better give back these loaner duds," she said, looking down at the clothing Red had let her borrow, "otherwise your driver is going to be doing his best impression of Lady Godiva on his ride home."
Marguerite walked out of the room and Clara noticed that Mrs. Nan appeared out of nowhere to follow her friend upstairs and offer dressing assistance.
Clara sighed, her mind a whirr of thoughts and emotions until the parties returned. Wesley and Red settled in while Marguerite walked over to the sideboard to replace her empty glass.
"What have you learned this evening?" asked Wesley.
"They had a staff," said Clara, "which they said could open the doors to the afterlife. They said it was missing a ruby which would make it work, but took up a collection from the attendees to raise the funds to purchase it. The most important thing, though, is that Peter Nero has returned," said Clara.
The glass clanged noisily. "What?" asked Marguerite.
Red nodded. "It's true! They announced it in front of everybody.”
"But he is dead!" said Marguerite. "Everyone was sure he was dead! Even his own wife and daughter!"
Clara gave a helpless shrug. This new information was startling to her, too.
Marguerite began to pace. "Now, if you were a wanted man who was associated with the disappearance of a large amount of money, and were on the bad side of the Beltza family, what would you do?"
"To begin with, I would disappear," said Clara.
"Which he did."
"I would then try to find the money," said Wesley
"Which he has not been able to do."
"And if I could not find the money, I would find something else that was even more valuable so that those where were angry with me could be convinced to give me a little more time until I could find out where the money had gone," said Clara.
"Bingo," said Marguerite. "Give the little lady a prize."
"Which seems to be exactly what has happened," said Clara.
Wesley looked at her sharply. "You believe Peter has brought back something even more valuable and dangerous than the Queen's heart? It would be madness!"
"Madness?" laughed Marguerite. "Do you think we are dealing with sanity? Think of what we know about this organization. They have graves in the basements of their houses. They delight in causing people to rise from the dead. They have possessed several women's souls in the interest of... well, I honestly don't understand why someone would feel like that was a wise course of action. But they've done it. They are obsessed."
Wesley nodded. "It was that which allowed me into their inner circle. They were all so interested in speaking with a medium who could talk to the dead, so interested, they were willing to accept whatever I told them with blind faith."
Clara wandered out into the hallway and glanced outside the front window. Standing there beneath the dim gas lamp was the same ghostly specter who had been watching her for several days. He tipped his hat at her. Clara shivered. "Do you suppose any of them have the slightest inkling of what Pandora's box they are about to open..."