Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] (35 page)

Harper’s face softened as he looked down at her. “We may never know. But the good doctor found a knife under some leaves. He thinks that’s what may have been used to do her in. But he’s in no hurry to find out, if you sees what I mean.”

Jason was looking at Gwyn. The news that Lady Mary was not the victim did not seem to lessen her misery.

“That poor girl,” she said, “just happened along at the wrong moment. He wouldn’t have known her in
the dark. He doesn’t even know that Gracie got away from him. He thinks he killed her.” Then fiercely, “But Gracie must have hurt him before she got away.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Jason.

“I’ll tell you on the way to town. This changes everything, don’t you see? If that poor woman is not Lady Mary, then we have no time to lose. We must go to Gerrard’s house and get her away from him. She didn’t get away from him. Don’t you understand? She didn’t get away.”

Jason started to shake his head, then stopped. He had no defense against the appeal in those huge eyes. “All right,” he said, “but we’ll go to the library first and get the box.”

She nodded and let out a little sigh.

Jason said, “Harper, I want you to go to the livery stable and hire a chaise for the journey. We’ll go to the library first, then you can go on to the Horse Guards and tell Colonel Maitland that we think Hugo Gerrard is Mr. High-and-Mighty. We’ll get a hackney to take us to the Marylebone house.”

“And tell him,” said Gwyn urgently, “that Lady Mary’s life is in danger. He must get her away from her husband.”

“Slow down,” said Harper. “You’re going too fast for me.”

“We’ll talk in the chaise,” said Gwyn.

Harper looked at the sandwich in his hand, his favorite, beefsteak, rare. “I haven’t had a bite to eat since breakfast,” he said.

Jason said, “All right, I’ll go and see about a chaise. But eat quickly, man. Or eat on the way.”

“You don’t want to share?”

Jason looked at the plate of sandwiches Harper held out to him, and suppressed a shudder. “No.” He strode for the door.

Harper carefully pocketed all the sandwiches bar
one, wolfed it down in three bites, and reached for his coffee cup.

Richard Maitland stared out of his office window as the darkness crept over Whitehall, and he wondered what in hell’s name was making him so edgy. Everything was under control. They’d made real progress. Three people on Mrs. Barrie’s list had maids who had been dismissed recently, but only one maid could not be accounted for. In fact, she might as well have disappeared off the face of the earth. Gracie Cummings. They’d also established that connection between Miss Cummings and Johnny Rowland. They’d both been in service, until recently, with the Right Honorable Hugo Gerrard. And Lady Mary Gerrard was a member of the Ladies’ Library where Mrs. Barrie worked.

It was all coming together. He had Mr. High-and-Mighty in the palm of his hand.

Harry
. That’s what was making him edgy. Who was he? Where was he? How did Gerrard find him? And how did Harry always seem to be one step behind them?

There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to believe what he was thinking. He was coming to the point where he didn’t want his left hand to know what his right hand was doing.

Come on, you bastard
, he said into the silence.
Come and get her. And we’ll be waiting for you
.

T
he member of parliament for East Hampshire had been laying forth for more than three hours against the proposed legislation, and the Right Honorable Hugo Gerrard wished the Honorable Freddie Smallwood would sit down and allow the question to be called.

He’d stopped following Mr. Smallwood’s argument a long time ago. He was too keyed up. There was to be a meeting at 10 Downing Street later that evening, at which time everyone expected that Lord Liverpool would name his new Home Secretary. It was a powerful position, and Gerrard was convinced, now that Robert Fortesque had retired, that it would go to him.

At long last, Freddie Smallwood sat down. The Speaker read the motion, and when the division bells sounded, the members rose and walked out of the chamber, dividing into the tellers’ lobbies to be counted for or against the proposed legislation. Now that he could relax, he put on his most affable smile and hailed one of the junior secretaries to the Home Office.

Though Robert Hill might not be a member of the cabinet, he had an intimate knowledge of what went
on in the prime minister’s office. It paid to be on good terms with Mr. Hill.

“Shame about Fortesque,” Gerrard said. “I shall miss him on the bench. He was a good man. Shall I see you at 10 Downing Street?”

A look of surprise crossed Hill’s face. “Haven’t you heard? The meeting has been cancelled. There’s a reception at Carlton House in honor of Prince Leopold. The prime minister has been invited of course, and the leading lights of his cabinet.” Hill laughed. “Of course, I haven’t been invited. The Prince Regent doesn’t even know I exist. Ah, there’s Horatio Berkley. I must go and congratulate him. I’m sure he’ll make a very fine Home Secretary.”

He left Gerrard’s side so quickly that there was no time for Gerrard to form his reeling thoughts into a question. He must have misunderstood, he decided. Horatio Berkley was a nonentity. Lord Liverpool could not possibly have appointed him as Home Secretary.

But even as he was assuring himself that there must be some mistake, he saw the prime minister put his hand on Berkley’s shoulder as others in the cabinet crowded around to shake his hand. And Gerrard suddenly felt isolated. He was surrounded by inconsequential Honorable members of his party, while the men of consequence, the Right Honorable members of the cabinet, seemed to be shunning him.

It was as though he had ceased to exist.

He was imagining things. Hill had got his facts wrong. The prime minister wouldn’t appoint someone to a senior position in this setting. He’d wait until he’d assembled his cabinet in private, then he’d announce the appointment.

He should go over and make his presence known. Then Lord Liverpool would smile at him and mention the reception at Carlton House. Of course his
lack of an invitation was an oversight. It was an important occasion. Tonight’s reception for Prince Leopold would be an all-male affair to introduce the prince to the most senior parliamentarians. If he, Gerrard, were not invited, it would be a humiliating slight.

The bells rang and the members began to drift back into the chamber. Now Gerrard knew he wasn’t imagining things. Not only were his colleagues in the cabinet shunning him, but others had noticed, and they, too, were keeping their distance and their eyes averted.

So it was true. He had been passed over for someone who was a joke, a nothing. He didn’t deserve this. What was most humiliating, however, was that everyone knew he expected to get the job.

When there were only stragglers left, he drew in a calming breath and left the building. On Bridge Street, he hailed a hackney to take him home. He was glad of the dark, glad that no one would see the hot tide of color that burned in his cheeks, or the tears of mortification that stung his eyes.

It was not long, however, before he began to seethe with resentment. He had spent money like water to get where he was, and some of that money lined the pockets of the very men who had shunned him this evening. He would make them regret it. He would make Lord Liverpool and his cronies pay for their heinous treatment of Hugo Gerrard.

He’s been so sure, so sure …

Another thought occurred to him. Maybe he hadn’t been passed over because the prime minister thought he couldn’t handle the job. Maybe there was a different reason.
Special Branch
, he thought. The chief of staff reported regularly to the prime minister. Was it possible that they’d come to suspect him?

Suspicion wasn’t the same as proof, and they could
prove nothing. All the same, he was beginning to feel nervous.

When he entered his house, he made straight for his library with the intention of writing to Ralph asking him to come at once. They had to determine whether they had overlooked anything, and if they had, how best to cover their tracks.

He took one step into his library and halted. His butler, Reaves, was there looking flustered, and two gentlemen who turned to face him when Reaves made a small sound of distress.

Reaves said, “These gentlemen insisted on waiting for you, sir.”

Gerrard recognized one of those gentlemen. “Lord Ivan,” he said, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lord Ivan clasped the hand Gerrard offered him. “Mr. Gerrard, may I present my colleague, Mr. Landon? We’re working on a case for Special Branch and hoped you might be able to help us.”

Gerrard nodded to Landon, but he did not offer him his hand. The man’s clothes looked as though they could do with a press; his expression was sullen. Landon wasn’t the kind of person Gerrard would normally invite into his library. Now he understood why his butler was flustered.

“Coffee, Reaves,” he said, and as his butler left to do his bidding, he waved Lord Ivan and Landon to chairs while he sat behind his desk. “Special Branch, eh?” He kept his smile fixed, and his eyes on Lord Ivan. “Your father is very proud of your success.”

Lord Ivan flashed a look at Landon.

So that’s the way of it
, thought Gerrard. Landon was in charge, but he was shrewd enough to know that he’d get more out of him if Lord Ivan did the asking.

Lord Ivan said, “We’re trying to trace one of your maids. Grace Cummings. She’s missing, and we think she may be able to help us in our inquiries.”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” said Gerrard. “I don’t keep track of maids. You’ll have to ask my housekeeper.”

“Or your wife, Lady Mary?” said Landon softly.

Gerrard turned his head and stared at Landon. He said coldly, “My wife is in no position to answer questions. She suffers from a form of dementia.”

“Ah,” said Landon.

Lord Ivan said quickly, “We didn’t know. How dreadful for you. If we’d known, well, we wouldn’t have intruded. The last thing we want is to upset Lady Mary.”

Lord Ivan’s respectful manner, his tact and courtesy, blunted the edge of Gerrard’s anger. He said, “No harm done. Lady Mary has retired to our country house to recover her health.”

“That would be Rosemount,” said Lord Ivan. “My father says it has the best shooting within a hundred miles of London.”

Gerrard was genuinely pleased. “You must come and see for yourself; of course, the hunting season is over now.”

“Ah, well,” Lord Ivan shrugged helplessly, “my time isn’t my own, now that I work for Special Branch.”

When Landon coughed, Lord Ivan fell silent.

Landon said, “With your permission, sir, we’d like to question the servants.”

Gerrard was feeling relieved. They didn’t know anything. They were fishing. “May I be permitted to know what this is all about?”

Landon said, “We’re investigating the murder of John Rowland, the footman whose body was found in Sackville’s house.”

“Ah, yes. Poor Sackville. What a thing to happen in one’s own home.”

“Have you heard the name before? John Rowland, I mean,” asked Landon.

“You mean before I read it in the papers? No, I don’t think so.”

Landon said, “He worked for you for a time.”

“My dear fellow, I don’t pay attention to servants. You’ll have to speak to my butler. He may be able to help you. Let me ring for a footman. Tell him who you want to question and he’ll see to it.”

“Thank you,” said Lord Ivan. “Don’t trouble with us. We’ll wait in the hall.”

Once in the hall, and after they’d closed the library door, Landon let out a hissing breath. “Now I know why they had a revolution in France. Are your lot all like that?”

“What? Oh. Not as you go up the ladder. It’s only the ones who are climbing the rungs who throw their weight about.” Lord Ivan suppressed a shudder. “That was nerve-wracking. I know the man. I’m the last person who should have questioned him.”

Landon clapped him on the shoulder. “You did very well.”

“I did?”

“Indeed you did. You got him to tell us about Rosemount, didn’t you?”

“Did I?”

Landon shook his head. “And to think, I thought you were being clever! Where is Rosemount anyway?”

“It’s just outside Henley, a mile or so closer to town.”

“I wonder …”

“What?”

“If he was telling the truth.” Landon glanced at the stairs. “She might still be here; I think I’d like to check it out.”

Lord Ivan was aghast. “You’re not thinking of searching the house?”

“Don’t worry, he’ll never know.”

A footman appeared.

Landon said, “I want all the servants to assemble in the servants’ hall. Is that understood?”

“They’re there already, sir. It’s the dinner hour.”

“Good. Then keep them there till we can question them. Lord Ivan, you take the butler and I’ll question the housekeeper.”