Waldo had found something on the mantelpiece. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Now how is he mixed up in this?”
“Who?”
“Piers.”
Case frowned. “What have you found?”
“Pebbles.” Waldo dropped them into Case’s hand.
They both stared at the two pebbles then looked at each other.
“What the devil does this mean?” asked Case.
Waldo spoke slowly. “I think it means your troubles with Campbell are over.”
Case’s mind was buzzing with speculation. “But how did he know about Campbell? And why would he turn on him? Campbell means nothing to Piers. I’d think he’d be pleased to know how much trouble that villain is causing me.”
“Oh, no. I don’t think so. Piers is the only one who is allowed to pull your strings. No one else. As for how he knew about Campbell, we talked about that earlier. He’s bound to have his informants in place. We know of the gatekeeper at Twickenham and the groundsman at Woodlands. There may be others. They serve our purpose as well as his. They carry tales that we want them to carry, but we can’t stop them tattling on us. I think Piers has had his eye on Campbell from that first night when he tried to breach our security at Twickenham.”
“Yes. It wouldn’t suit Piers to have Campbell barging in on us at all times of the day and night.”
“What do we do now?”
“Nothing. Bow Street will deal with this when the landlord reports Campbell is missing.”
“And by the time Bow Street sorts things out, our reunion will be over.”
Case slipped the pebbles into his pocket. “This has been a god-awful night, and I have a feeling that things are only going to get worse.” He looked at Waldo. “Let’s go home to the Albany and mull things over.”
Waldo clapped him on the shoulder. “I have a better idea. Let’s go home to the Albany and crack open a bottle of your father’s best cognac.”
Case couldn’t argue with that.
Chapter 20
She had fallen into a light sleep, and the muffled knocking on the door wakened her instantly. Her muscles were cramped because she’d slept, still fully dressed, in the chair beside the fire. A glance at the clock told her that it was long past midnight.
The knock came again, then Ruggles’s voice. “Miss Mayberry, are you awake? There are two gentlemen here who wish to speak to you.”
At this time of night? Alarmed now, she quickly rose and crossed to the door. Lance was already there.
“Who are they?” she asked when she opened the door.
Ruggles’s expression was somber. “Two officers from Special Branch. They asked to speak to Mrs. Campbell, and I thought you would want to hear what they have to say. They said it’s urgent, and that’s all I know. They’re waiting for you downstairs.”
“Is Lady Sophy with them?”
“No. We thought it best not to waken her.”
“Where’s Harper?”
“Harper?”
“I spoke with him for a few minutes last night. I thought he was on duty.” If there was bad news waiting for her, she wanted Harper by her side. There was something solid about him, something sterling.
He
wouldn’t panic under fire, not Harper.
“He can’t be far away. I’ll look for him while you’re speaking to the officers.”
Ruggles led the way to the waiting room just off the front hall, the same waiting room where Case had kissed her before they’d set off on their shopping spree. She’d been happy then, deliriously happy. Now, she was close to panic-stricken. Something dreadful must have happened before two Special Branch agents had come to the house at this time of night. Harper had told her that Case had gone to Cook’s Hotel to speak with her husband. What had happened? Where was Case?
The agents’ expressions were as somber as Ruggles’s. The spokesman who introduced himself as Capt. John Cox, was thirtyish, stocky, but well turned out. The other agent hardly registered with her.
Captain Cox said, “You must prepare yourself for a shock, Mrs. Campbell. It is Mrs. Campbell, is it not?”
“Ruggles, stay with me,” she said. Her heart was beating very fast. “Yes, I’m Mrs. Campbell. Tell me what has happened.”
“I regret to inform you that a man was attacked tonight in Vauxhall Gardens, fatally attacked. We think it was your husband. There was a letter . . . At any rate, we’d like you to come with us.”
It was some moments before she could get her tongue around words. “Are you saying . . . was Jack murdered?”
“It looks like it. Would you come with us, Mrs. Campbell?”
“Vauxhall Gardens?” she said faintly. Her mind was in a whirl. She knew Vauxhall Gardens. In the summer months, the gardens were filled to capacity, and the entertainments went on till all hours of the night. In the winter, the gardens were locked up. “But they’re closed for the winter,” she said.
“A watchman found him. I’m sorry, Mrs. Campbell.”
She nodded, acknowledging his words. “I’ll get my coat. Ruggles, find Harper.”
She met Mrs. Trent in the upstairs landing. The housekeeper was in her nightclothes. Something had awakened her, she said, but she didn’t know what, and she’d come to investigate. In a few terse words, Jane told Mrs. Trent what had happened.
As she helped Jane on with her coat, not the dressy pink velvet, but an everyday, serviceable gray worsted, Jane said, “Don’t mention Lord Castleton’s name. Don’t tell anyone . . . oh, Trentie, just keep him out of this.”
“Aye, lass. No one will get a cheep out of me.”
Jane snatched up her reticule with her pistol inside, and quickly descended the stairs.
Ruggles was there but not Harper, and the Special Branch agents were not inclined to wait until he was found. Nor would they allow Lance to go with her.
There was a nondescript coach with barred windows pulled up outside the front steps. Ruggles followed her in, then the two agents. Not a word was said as the coach rolled through the front gates. Though no words were spoken, Jane’s mind was reeling. She was thinking of Case, recalling every word he’d said to her about Spain and his work in the special unit. She remembered his words.
Some called us
executioners, some called us assassins. And now it’s time to
play by different rules.
Mrs. Trent watched from the window in Jane’s bedchamber until the coach was out of sight. She hoped to God that Jack Campbell had finally got his just desserts. She wasn’t going to shed a tear for that scoundrel. Her prayer for the earl was even more fervent. She hoped he was not involved. Miss Jane might think herself well rid of her beastly husband, but it wouldna sit right with the lass if Lord Castleton had anything to do with it.
Sighing, she absently began to tidy things away, then stopped when she realized what she was doing. She should be in her bed. Something had wakened her. What was it? Not voices. Then it came to her. She’d wakened, then she’d heard glass breaking. In the room beneath hers, she thought. She’d been on her way to investigate when she’d heard Miss Jane’s voice—shaken, she’d sounded—and that put the breaking glass right out of her mind.
Candle in hand, she walked the length of the corridor and gave a little start when something brushed her legs. It was only Lance. She was glad to have him for company. She wasn’t really afraid. She didn’t think that robbers had broken in or anything like that, but she’d had more than enough excitement for one day and her nerves were on edge.
The room she entered was an unoccupied bedchamber. She knew she had the right room because a chair had been overturned and the glass in the cheval mirror was shattered. A candleholder and candle were on the floor. She was staring at the mirror when Lance bounded forward and began to scratch at the closet door. Trembling, Mrs. Trent crossed to it. When she opened the door and a body tumbled out, she let out a piercing scream that went on and on and on.
Case was drinking by himself and Waldo was sleeping in a chair when someone knocked insistently on the door. There was no manservant to answer the summons. Case was cursing himself for telling Ruggles he was off duty, but omitting to tell him to go home to the Albany.
He answered the door with his pistol in his hand. It was one of the porters from Woodlands.
“You’re to come at once, your lordship,” he said. “Mr. Harper’s in a bad way and Miss Mayberry went off with two men.”
“What is it?” asked Waldo from behind Case.
“Piers,” Case said savagely, “pulling my strings. What else?”
Harper sat stoically while Mrs. Trent cleaned the gash on his forehead, the gash he’d taken when he’d keeled face first into the cheval mirror. She’d already doctored the lump on the back of his head. They were in the kitchen. The whole house was roused, even Mrs. Morrison, the head housekeeper, who could be counted on to sleep through an earthquake. She was making sandwiches for his lordship and Mr. Bowman, and anyone else who had a mind to take one.
Harper looked up gratefully when Case put a glass with a small measure of brandy in it into his hand. Mrs. Trent had tried to fob him off with marmalade tea, but he wasn’t having any of that.
He’d already told his story once, but now that Lord Castleton and his friend had arrived, he had to tell it again. “It was like this,” he said. “I was patrolling the corridor when someone called my name. I looked around, saw that one of the doors was ajar, and as unsuspecting as a newborn babe, I walked into the room. That’s when he clobbered me.” He touched a hand to the back of his head. “And I went staggering into the looking glass.”
“Who?” asked Case, his voice tense. “Who clobbered you, Harper?”
Harper looked down at his glass. When he looked up, he said, “I don’t know, your lordship,” but his eyes said something different.
When Case nodded, Harper went on, “And that’s all I remember until her ladyship brought me round with her smelling salts.”
Lady Sophy said, “But why would anyone do this to Harper? What could they possibly gain by it?” She looked anxiously at Case.
Case and Waldo exchanged a quick glance. They’d already questioned the porters and Mrs. Trent, so they knew all the salient details about the Special Branch agents and Jane’s going off with them, and they had a fair idea of why Harper had to be gotten out of the way.
Waldo said, “I’m asking myself the same question.”
Before his aunt could probe deeper, Case spoke to Mrs. Trent. “You’re sure they said they were taking her to Vauxhall Gardens?”
“That’s what they told her. And that’s what she told me.”
Case nodded. “Harper, a word with you?”
They went through the door to the back hall. Case said, “All right, Harper. Who was it?”
“Ruggles,” said Harper at once. “I saw him in the looking glass before I crashed into it.”
“You saw him in the dark?”
“No. I still had my candle clutched in my hand.”
“Christ!” Case slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. “I knew there had to be someone, but Ruggles—I trusted him! But it makes sense. He’s usually on night duty, but I gave him the night off. They weren’t expecting you to be here. That must have given them a fright.”
“Aye,” said Harper, “ ’cos I knows every agent who works for Special Branch.”
“You’re lucky Ruggles didn’t kill you.”
“I don’t feels lucky. And who says he didn’t try?”
They drew apart when Waldo and Lady Sophy joined them.
“Thank you, Harper,” said Case. “Now get your injuries seen to.”
“But, sir—”
“Now, Harper, now, and that’s an order.”
With a disgruntled snort, Harper walked back to the kitchen.
Lady Sophy said, “Caspar, I want to know what’s going on.”
“We don’t know. We’re not sure.”
“Those men were not Special Branch agents, were they?”
“We don’t think so.” He waved Waldo on. “Send a couple of men to the Horse Guards, just in case they’re the genuine article. Maybe they did send two agents out here. I’ll be along in a minute.”
Lady Sophy said, “If they weren’t genuine, Harper would have known it. He works for Special Branch.” Her eyes went wide. “So that’s why he had to be got out of the way. He would have known they were imposters.”
“We don’t know anything for certain yet.”
“Poor Mrs. Trent. She doesn’t have a clue.”
“And let’s keep it that way! There’s no sense alarming anyone until we find out what’s happened.” He studied his aunt’s face, then spoke in a more moderate tone. “Do something for me, Aunt?”
“Anything.”
“Make sure Harper doesn’t come after us. He’s in no state to go anywhere. And it wouldn’t hurt to have the doctor take a look at his injuries.”
“I’ve already sent for the doctor.”
“And try to keep everyone calm.”
“Yes,” she said. “I can do that.” She gave a wan little smile. “Just bring her back to us safe and sound.”
Case nodded, then strode toward the front doors.
The cold blast of air was just what he needed to bring him out of the paralysis that seemed to have gripped him. He was never at a loss. He was always in control. What he had to do was forget that Jane was Jane. He mustn’t become distracted. He had to slip into his old skin. He was a hunter and his prey was Gideon Piers.
Waldo and several groundsmen, all former soldiers, were already mounted. “Are we taking the dog?” asked Waldo.
Case looked down and there was Lance, right at his heels. “Yes,” he said. “If anyone can find Jane, Lance can.”
When Case was mounted, Waldo said, “There are a lot of questions running through my mind—timing, sequence, opportunity. You see what this means?”
“I see what this means,” replied Case grimly. “There’s a Judas in our midst.”
Waldo frowned. “Who is it?”
“Ruggles, my manservant.”
Waldo was aghast. “But it can’t be Ruggles. Robert checked out his references. They were impeccable.”
“I’m sure they were, but money is a powerful corrupter. We’ll talk later. Now, let’s move.”
The coach dropped them at the great portico then drove off. They entered the gardens by a side door. It was much like entering the Albany’s gardens with its fortresslike walls, but Jane had taken shelter in the Albany during the daylight hours. This was nighttime, gloomy and foreboding, and the lanterns her escorts carried made little impression on the vast ocean of darkness.
Captain Cox was right at her elbow. From time to time, she glanced over her shoulder, to the men who accompanied her. There were four of them now, including Ruggles, and the light from their lanterns made their features seem like death masks.
To keep her panic at bay, she tried to remember Vauxhall as it was the one and only time she had visited it. She remembered hordes of people, and a full orchestra playing in the Grove. Everyone was happy. They were celebrating one of Wellington’s victories in Spain. She couldn’t remember which one.
Her ploy didn’t work. The ugly thoughts kept intruding. She was here to identify her husband’s body. Had Case called Jack out? Was this the result of a duel? That would explain why they’d chosen somewhere deserted like Vauxhall Gardens.
This was all her fault. Oh, God, this was all her fault.
If only someone would speak, break the crushing, protracted silence. But they were all dumb. Her own tongue seemed to have stuck to the roof of her mouth and her throat felt as though she’d swallowed a desert. There was nothing but the crunch of their feet on the gravel and the bare branches overhead soughing in the wind.
They turned off the main walk into another walk, narrower and more hemmed in by trees and shrubbery. The darkness was suffocating. She couldn’t breathe. She gave a start when something grazed her cheek. Captain Cox’s hand cupped her elbow, steadying her.
“Not far to go now,” he said.
When they turned a corner into another walk, narrower still, her steps slowed. There were so many walks in Vauxhall, each running into another, that it was like navigating a maze. She had lost her bearings. If she tried to escape she would not know the way out.
The thought opened a shutter in her mind. These men said they were from Special Branch, but anyone could say that. She had accepted them without question. Why?