The Hanged Man (15 page)

The storm was intense but brief, and when it passed, the matron, God bless her, brought a cup of strong tea and a warning that it was hot.

“Do you get many in here?” Alex asked. The tea stripped the taste of the lake from her throat with a single sip. She nearly gulped the rest, suddenly thirsty.

“Too many by half. Some don't know how to swim well, get tired and sink, then there are the poor souls who throw themselves off the bridge, hoping they'll be gone by the time they reach the sluice at the end. That's why we're here. They said you jumped in, is that true, dear?”

“It was an accident. If he'd not slipped on the ice…”

“Oh, you've not done one of those lover's leaping acts of desperation, have you?”

Alex coughed again, clearing her throat, and handed back the teacup. “Absolutely not. Please, would you see if he's all right? His name is Brook. Tall, with a moustache, hasn't shaved today.”

“If it'll settle you down, of course.” But first she helped Alex from the tub, wrapped her in a Turkish towel, and sat her before a large iron stove. “Dry your hair, dearie.”

The matron soon returned. “That first young fellow is fine, and so are the others. They're getting sorted out and their clothes dried. He's like to get a medal for this day's work, being the one who got to you first. Said you were limp as a water weed when he pulled you to shore. I let them know you're coming along just fine.”

Alex had underestimated Brook and, influenced by Fingate, had unfairly judged him. Recalling Brook's concern, his unabashed warmth, she grimaced.

“There now, half the swimming club saw you go in, they weren't going to leave you. Several people jumped in to help, including a doctor—oh, here he is.”

Looking like a theatrical ghost with a blanket wrapped Turkish-style around his body, a towel draped over his head, and his feet bare, James Fonteyn pushed through the door. He cast about with brief curiosity before spying her. For once he presented a serious face.

He came over, eased onto a chair next to her, and took her hand. She was tardy getting her armor up and caught a wretched tug of his guilt and worry.

“You look a right mess,” he said. “I've never seen you so dreadful and that's saying a lot.”

The matron lost her kindly expression.

Alex found herself responding with a feeble laugh that threatened to devolve into more coughing. “You jumped in after me?”

“Certainly not before, as I've better sense than to do such appallingly ridiculous acrobatics. My suit will never recover.
What
were you thinking?”

Devil take it. Now they'd demand explanations, not just James but everyone. It was bloody inconvenient.

“Doctor?” said the matron, moving closer.

“Thank you for the reminder. Her pulse is steady enough.” He let go of Alex's hand, where he had indeed been pressing a thumb to the right spot on her wrist. “The patient is alert, but I'll hold judgment on her sanity until she can answer my question.”

“It's a state secret,” Alex said, looking at him steadily, and for the first time saw her cousin at a loss for words. A sweet moment.

“To do with the party last night?” he finally asked.

She nodded.

His expression shifted back to its habitual self-satisfied lines. “Oh, that won't serve at all. Reports will be written, witnesses interviewed; there's a few fellows without who claim to be with the newspapers, though one is with
The Times
and I wouldn't put that in the same class as the
Police Gazette
. Shall I mention policemen as well? They've a station just behind this place. They want to make sure you weren't drowning yourself on purpose, as suicide is against the—” He cut himself off, mouth open in honest horror. “Oh, my God. I'm sorry, Alex. I forgot. I'll stop babbling. Infernally stupid of me.”

She chose not to speak, lest she damned his eyes.

“I'll make them go away, shall I?” He hurried out.

The matron shut the door firmly. “Calls himself a doctor?”

“He
is
a medical man, and my first cousin—and is usually far more foolish than that.”

“Good heavens. How?”

“Will the police question me? I don't want my name in the papers.”

“Of course you don't. The police are only here in case you're in a despondent state of mind, but if it was an accident, then there's no need.”

James returned a short while later, damply dressed, apparently too impatient to wait for his clothes to dry. His great coat was fine, he'd shed it before leaping in.

“My hat's dented, but I want a newer one anyway,” he told her.

“Bother your hat, is Mr. Brook all right?”

“He's bursting with good health and energy for his morning tub.”

“Please, James, be serious.”

“No, sorry, none today, thank you. He wants to see you as soon as is decently possible. I'll put him off for longer if you like. While it would be entertaining to see how you manage things with a colleague while looking like a water rat, it would be better to receive him after you're dressed and on your feet.”

That was uncommonly sensible of him.

“The newspapers?”

“I worked a miracle, little cousin. I was brilliant, even inspired. The curious have been routed. The story will have mention in several London journals; that can't be helped. A Christmas swimming race is of minor interest, but a daring water rescue involving several participants and a helpless maid of tender years is something else again. Mr. Brook was modestly loath to have mention in the saga, so I provided the press with false names, and gave full credit to Mr. Ashburn Poultreen of the Royal Humane Society for recovering a schoolgirl of fourteen years, six months, who had fallen in by accident. Miss Violet Kettle of Basingstoke is now safe and well in the bosom of her family, thanks to his heroic efforts.”

It could have been worse.

“Much as it went against my desire for fame, I downplayed my part and provided a false name as well. I've my reputation to protect. Can't have eye surgeons leaping into the Serpentine, it might cause a patient to blink in dismay, and that would interfere with a proper ocular exam. Don't you think so, Matron?”

The good woman ventured no opinion. “More tea, miss?”

“Please. Are my clothes dry?”

“Not nearly. You need to rest, give yourself a bit of time to get past it. Doctor, it will be best if you leave now.”

“People are always telling me that. One of these days I'll sort out why. And if no one has mentioned it before, I want to express my appreciation on behalf of the family for looking after my soggy cousin.” He presented a genial smile to her, along with five gold sovereigns.

She gasped, staring at them. “Oh, sir, I couldn't!”

“You most certainly can or I'll lodge a complaint. Not sure where, but it will be lodged. If you don't want it, then donate it to the Humane Society.”

She gave him a shrewd eye, surrendered to the largesse with a soft “thank you.”

“James?” He was well off, as were many of the Fonteyns, but the princely sum—not to mention the generosity—startled Alex.

He continued as though she'd not spoken. “If you're in a hurry to leave, I'll send someone to fetch clothes from your house. Boodles Churchill is here with his fiancée and they have a carriage to take us to Baker Street. She can find something appropriate if she has access to your digs.”

“I lost the key, my reticule—”

“Was recovered. You dropped it when you tackled that big fellow; he's looking after it, so I suppose he's forgiven you for assaulting him. That was a magnificent block, by the way. Learn that in your travels? Oh, there I am rattling on, but I am curious why you thought it necessary. He was doing quite well before you decided to bring him down.”

“Mr. Brook slipped on the ice. I didn't plan any of this, just wanted to delay him.”

“Well, he was quite keen to catch up with that chap who ran off; who was he? Looked familiar.”

“Fingate, my fa—damn you, James!” His blather had neatly undermined her defenses.

Across the room, the matron gaped at the outburst, apparently not used to refined young ladies expressing anger in such terms.

“I don't recall anyone of that name, but give me time,” James said, unfazed and cheerful.

“You know very well who he is,” she whispered.

“State secrets, little cousin. I'll have a chat with Boodles's fiancée. Stay warm and do what you're told for the next hour. It won't require effort, all you need do is sit there for a bit. Think of England,” he added brightly.

Instead, she thought of bouncing some object off the back of his head as he left, but nothing suitable was within reach.

A second cup of tea helped, easing her sore throat.

“There's another man wanting to see you, Miss,” said the matron. “Says he's your cousin Theodore. That first being a doctor was one thing, but this side
is
for females only.”

“Assure him that I'm fine and will talk to him when I've rested—”

Teddy poked his head in. “Hallo, sorry, but had to see you, Alex. There's going to be the devil to pay when Mother finds out about this.”

“Then don't tell her.” Good God, she'd nearly died and he was worried about what Aunt Honoria would think? Alex knew him to be a sometimes charming fool, like James, but harbored a small hope that it was a simple front he presented to the world. But no, he was a fool through and through.

He eased the rest of the way inside, looking nervous. “I say, there aren't any undressed females about?”

“Hoping to see some?”

Teddy flushed a gratifying shade of brick red. “Really, now! I've been worried sick for you—”

More likely worried over the scandal had she drowned.

“Are you all right?” he demanded. “Whatever possessed you to jump in?”

“It was an
accident
.”

“Who was the fellow you were talking to? He nearly took my arm out of my socket, the little bas—that is to say—I'm bruised all over. Who was he?”

She felt inordinately pleased about his damage. “Please, Teddy, don't ask questions. There's an inquiry I'm working on with the police and I'm not allowed to discuss it until it's resolved.”

“Surely with family you can drop a hint or two.”

She'd already had too much familial faux pas with James. “I'm sorry, I cannot, no more than you can discuss your own work.”

“The two are hardly comparable. Now who was that fellow on the bridge? The one who ran away? Oh, don't make a face, I have to
know
.”

“Honestly, I can't.”

“That other fellow who fell in won't say a word, either. Why didn't you say he was with you? I took him for a ruffian.”

“He was the one you saw following me?”

“Yes. Had I known he was a policeman in disguise I'd not have chased after you from church to protect you from him. Of course you had no way to tell me, so I suppose that's hardly fair.”

Correcting his assumption about Brook's occupation would serve no purpose. “I appreciate that you tried to help.”

“You're welcome. But your reaction when I told you—someone else must be following you, someone who is not a policeman.”

That
was a perceptive guess. She had to head him off. “I deal with criminals, Teddy. I have to be cautious. It's only good sense.”

“But carrying around a firearm, really now!”

“Where is it?”

“With that policeman. Mr. Fonteyn gave him charge of it, which is only right. He'll keep it safe, I'm sure. Whatever shall I tell Mother about this—this … incident?”

“You don't tell her anything.” She raised a hand to quell objections. “Our names won't be in the papers, so she need never find out. You'll just spoil Christmas dinner for her and Uncle Leo.” Andrina would find it entertaining, and Alex did not care to provide
her
with any such distraction.

Teddy made noises to indicate he was thinking it through and then finally agreed. “That would be for the best. She'll be annoyed enough that I didn't sit with the family in church. I suppose I can say I saw a friend and had to chat with him, borrowing your story, as it were. What shall I say about your disappearance?”

“That I could not bear the crowds. Aunt Honoria knows my dislikes. I won't be there for dinner, so give her my regrets.”

“You
can't
avoid dinner.”

“Of course I can, I'll not show up. It will be better for all concerned. I have to go to the head office at the Service and put in a report.”

“Ridiculous. Your employers will forgive you for having a respite after such a terrible misadventure, especially on a holiday. Come home.”

She decided not to remind him of the perils she survived when traveling with her father. Most of those dangers were wholly preferable to dinner with relatives. “I'm to be called in today regardless. I expect a message is already waiting for me at Pendlebury House.”

“Then you send a message right back that you're not going. Father will sign it. They'll have to pay attention to him.”

“Most kind, but the matter is closed. Besides, I didn't bring anything suitable to wear.”

That
sank in. He blithered a bit, then said brightly, “Borrow a frock from Andrina.”

She gave him a look.

He had the decency to wince. “Never mind.”

“Just find Mr. Brook and make sure they're taking good care of him. He saved my life; afford him the appropriate respect and honor he deserves.”

Teddy might have offered more argument, but the matron put herself forward. “Sir, I must ask you to leave. The lady wants care and rest.” She guided him toward the door and threw the bolt the instant he was on the other side.