Death on the Sapphire: A Lady Frances Ffolkes Mystery (27 page)

“I beg your pardon, but it is my afternoon off. If you could come back later, my lady . . .”

“I have no intention of leaving. My maid and I are exhausted from walking here and there. Mallow, do put those boxes down and see about making some tea so this good man won’t miss his afternoon off.” She turned to the valet. “Be on your way. Do not let me stop you. I am sure the colonel will be along shortly.” She had settled deeply into a big chair and made it clear nothing was going to remove her.

“Very good, my lady,” He looked a little uncomfortable, and Frances held her breath, wondering if her ruse would work. But she was right—she knew well-trained servants like the colonel’s valet. They read people, put them in categories, and then made decisions on how to behave. Here was a perfectly dressed lady with the right accent and her perfectly dressed maid. The valet would assume that someone like her would never tell a bald-faced lie. He wouldn’t dare question her bona fides—as he would with a man. So he left and returned a few moments later, holding his hat.

“If there is nothing I can get you, my lady . . .”

“Nothing. Enjoy your afternoon off. I will wait for my cousin, the colonel, to return.”

“Very well, my lady.” Still looking reluctant, he bowed out. Frances heard the lock turn, and through the window, she watched the man head down the stairs and along the street.
When he passed out of sight, Frances jumped out of her chair quickly and Mallow followed suit.

“He trusted us this far, but I am sure he is going to leave word with his master, Colonel Mountjoy, at his club. He was too embarrassed to use the telephone to report on us while we were here. But the colonel will rush back as soon as he learns, so we have little time. Your job will be simple. Stay here and let me know if anyone comes to the house. Just sit in the chair and watch the street.”

“Very good, my lady.” Her voice was steady, Frances noted. She could rely on Mallow.

The only place in the sitting room to hide a manuscript was a small desk. Frances opened the top drawer, which was probably too small to hold the manuscript but might contain a key to a hiding place elsewhere.
My goodness—a service revolver. Just like Danny has. Charles no doubt has one too, somewhere. At any rate, no manuscript or key anywhere else in the desk
.

Frances entered the colonel’s bedroom. It was larger than most bedrooms one would find in such a small house and contained a sort of niche that served as an office. The niche was lined with shelves, much like the general’s closet. To Frances’s dismay, it was filled with papers—bound and unbound, in boxes and loose. Some looked official and some more casual. Frances was sure these would make fascinating reading, but for now, there was only one to locate. One by one, she started to pull them down and see which one was written by Danny Colcombe.

Fortunately, she was familiar with Danny’s handwriting, a strong lavish hand she knew well from the letters he always wrote to her on her birthday. Not this one . . . not that one . . . She began to feel very warm, and sweat started to roll into her eyes. Frances swept a lace handkerchief over her brow and kept going. She felt the minutes racing by. How long would it take for the servant to leave a note at the master’s club before proceeding to whatever plans he had?

She almost cried out in relief when she found the right papers. “The Battle of the Sapphire River, by Maj. Daniel Colcombe (ret.)”

“My lady—he’s back!” cried out Mallow. “He’s just paying off a hansom.”

Oh God. But all was not lost. She fought to stay focused.

“Bring me one of the boxes.” Mallow ran in.
I’ve never seen Mallow run
, realized Frances. Well-trained servants never ran unless it was a matter of life or limb. Like now.

Frances slipped off the string and put the manuscript inside. Mallow started to tie it up again.

“Wait,” said Frances. “Just sit in the same chair with the other box.” Mallow obeyed instantly, and Frances followed her out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. This was a tight corner, but the situation was not impossible. She opened the desk drawer, grabbed the revolver, and tossed it into the box before quickly tying it up again.

When the colonel entered his flat, he saw both women sitting in chairs. Frances had one box, and Mallow had two. He didn’t seem surprised, because his servant had no doubt left him a message.

“Lady Frances, I was left word that a nonexistent cousin was visiting. You must have a reason.” He flashed a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I didn’t want to advertise my presence and knew you would come around. I simply wanted to see you once more before I left London, as you suggested in your note. We bought a few items for a trip and planned to leave this afternoon, but I wanted to make sure you had no further details.”

The colonel stayed by the door, where he could keep an eye on both women. His eyes swept over Frances and Mallow and their boxes.

“Nothing at all, I’m sorry to say, but at least there have been no further incidents.”

“I’m glad for that as well. I just wanted to make sure there were no further dangers to look out for. We’ll leave now, for an extended stay with my aunt and uncle.” She smiled at the colonel, but he didn’t smile back. His eyes were hard and didn’t leave her as she rose.

“Lady Frances,” he said. His voice was silky and menacing. “Before you go, please unwrap that box and give me back the manuscript.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said, forcing injured innocence into her voice.

“I don’t have the patience for this, my lady. Your little plan was well executed and might’ve worked if you had been just a little faster or if it had taken me just a few more minutes to find a hansom. But now, I want you to sit back down, open that box, and give it back to me. I give you my word that you can then go on your way and I’ll forget this ever happened. Do it now or undergo the indignity of my taking it from you by force.”

Gone was the paternal look. Colonel Mountjoy was angry. There would be no talking her way through this.

“Oh, very well,” she said a little petulantly. “But you are very wrong, Colonel. These papers belong to the Colcombe family, and you haven’t heard the last of this.” He said nothing as she undid the string, trying to keep her hands from trembling.
I’m really doing this
, she thought.

She slid off the top of the box and reached in. But instead of pulling out the manuscript, she emerged with the colonel’s service revolver. Frances had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but she was not leaving without the Colcombe manuscript.

She heard Mallow gasp and cry out incoherently. The Colonel bit his lip and just stared at the revolver in her little hands.

Frances willed her voice not to shake. “We are walking out of here, my maid and I, with the manuscript. And I swear, Colonel, if you try to stop us, I will shoot you.”

No one spoke or moved for several long moments. Then Mountjoy started to move toward Frances, but he was able to take only one step.

“Not one inch closer. I mean it. I know how to use this.” With her thumb, she pulled back the hammer.

“Another benefit of your much-prized college education?” he taunted.

“I do know that this is a Webley. It is a top-breaking six-shot revolver. It is fully loaded. I never claimed to be a great marksman, but I can get off four shots before you reach me, and at least two will hit you.”

The colonel decided to take her at her word and tried another tack. “Lady Frances, do you realize what you’re doing? Do you know how serious a crime it is to hold a man at gunpoint? I renew my offer—put the gun down, leave me the manuscript, and on my word of honor, I will forget this entire incident.”

“I’m not leaving without it.”

“If you kill me, how could you possibly explain it?”

But Frances had worked that out. “I’ll tell the constables you tried to have your way with me when I made a friendly call. Mallow will bear witness. I grabbed the gun and shot you in panic. You’ll get an unmarked grave. I’ll probably get a medal.”

“Have you lost all reason? One thing you can say for the Seaforths is that they were all men of reason.”

Frances just smiled. It was as if she was in some sort of dream. But despite the air of unreality, she felt in control. The colonel was helpless.

“I’m a woman. And aren’t all women completely unreasonable and incapable of logical thought?” she asked rhetorically. “But I found this manuscript, didn’t I? And now I’m thinking of the Sapphire River, the men who died there, and mostly of Danny Colcombe, who lived but was never the same—to the day he was murdered. This manuscript is for them.”

Now the colonel looked nervous, and Frances took some satisfaction in that.

“Whatever you think I did, I committed no murder.”

“Maybe not directly. But men died because of this manuscript, and you must accept some blame. And you’re a thief and blackmailer.” The gun was heavy in her hands, even balanced on the box, and it was hard to hold as her hands started to sweat. “We’ll discuss your sins another time. I want to leave. Step away from the door, Colonel. Mallow and I are going home.”

She was wondering if the colonel would rush her, but instead he twisted around and, before she could react, turned the key in the lock and pocketed it. Then he gave her a nasty smile.

“Lady Frances, I do believe if I attacked you that you would shoot me dead. But you won’t shoot in cold blood. The only way to leave this house is by killing me right where I stand and removing the key from my corpse. And not even you would do that.”

They just stared at each other for a few moments, Frances with a look of determination, the colonel with a slight smile.

“It seems we are at an impasse,” said Frances. She had not expected the locked door trick, but she still had a card to play. She still held the ace of trumps.

“A suggestion, Lady Frances. You claim ownership of the manuscript. So do I. You gambled that whoever removed the manuscript from the Colcombe house would keep it for the power it has, and you were right. This would seem to be a matter for the courts to decide. We’ll call a constable. He’ll take charge of the manuscript, and his superiors will hold onto it until a judge can decide. If you believe you are right, you will win. What can be fairer than that?”

That would suit you so well
, thought Frances,
having a kindly old bobby come in, take the revolver away, and take the manuscript away. “No need for any fuss, just give the papers back to the nice colonel. He won’t even press charges.” An agreement that she was just a little
overwrought, that’s all; nothing a few weeks in the country won’t cure. What can you expect from a woman? They’re so emotional . . .

Frances was furious. But she remained cool.
Very well then—send for a bobby
.

“I agree, Colonel,” said Frances. “A fair solution. As your telephone is outside of this suite, and your man is out, may I suggest we send my maid Mallow to fetch a bobby?”

Mountjoy’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I trust your maid?”

“For heaven’s sake, she’s a
maid
. Surely you grew up with them. They do what they’re told, and that’s all. If I tell her to get a bobby, she’ll get a bobby, not board the
HMS Dreadnought
and take charge of a company of Royal Marines.”

Colonel Mountjoy mulled over that. “Very well. I will open the door and let your maid out and lock it again. And you will try not to shoot me. Do we have an agreement?”

“Mallow—” She looked right into her maid’s eyes. “—you heard what the colonel said, didn’t you? Fetch a constable.”

“Yes, my lady.” Her voice was steady as she stood and met her ladyship’s eye.

“There’s usually a constable just around the corner,” said Mountjoy. Mallow ignored him.
My goodness
, thought Frances.
I’ve never seen Mallow actually snub someone. Good for you
.

“She knows what to do,” said Frances. “Mallow, take my purse.”

“Why should she need money?” asked a suspicious Mountjoy.

“Do use your head, Colonel. A young maid tries to convince a constable that the daughter of a marquess is holding a British army officer at gunpoint. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t send her to Bedlam. He may want to consult his superiors at his station, and I’ll want Mallow to take him there by hansom, for speed.”

“Very well,” said Mountjoy cautiously. Mallow picked up Frances’s bag.

Meanwhile, Mountjoy produced the key and Mallow took a step to the door.

“Colonel, lay one hand on her and I will shoot you.”

“And I thought servant-mistress loyalty died with the old Queen,” he said. He quickly opened the door just wide enough for Mallow to slip out and then closed and locked it behind her.

Mallow’s heart was pounding, and she felt she could hardly breathe. Walking as fast as she could, she headed along the street, where, as the colonel said, there was a bobby at the corner. She paused for a moment, then continued past him to the next street, where she found a hansom. She realized that this was the first time she had ever ridden in one by herself.

“Scotland Yard,” she said. “And I’ll pay extra if you can get there in under ten minutes.”