Sea of Fire (11 page)

“Aye. It seems she hasn’t seen Adam either,” Christian lied, unwilling to completely trust Walter yet.

“Have you considered going to the authorities?” Walter asked, and took another swallow.

“Aye, but not yet.” Christian set his glass of cognac on the side table.

“ ‘Tis all quite odd. Your brother was usually quiet, but you could see by the way he gazed at Elizabeth that he was quite enamored by her. Not too many with that shade of reddish-brown hair. If I didn’t love Charlotte, I’d pursue that one. Lovely lady. Don’t you think?”

Christian nodded and chewed his lip to keep from making an ungentlemanly comment. Adam’s relationship with Elizabeth definitely disturbed him. Certainly, it had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with her lying to him. No doubt she was the reason for her brother’s acting uncharacteristically.

“I can only add that I met Elizabeth through Charlotte. The two practice calligraphy together. Charlotte introduced Adam to her as a friend of her own brother, Roderick. I don’t know how Roderick met Adam.”

“You can’t think of anything you discussed that would be helpful?” Christian pressed.

“Nay. We only spoke pleasantries. I never had the opportunity to speak with him when Roderick or Elizabeth were not present. He seemed a nice enough fellow.”

“He is one of the most caring men you’ll meet,” Christian boasted. “ ‘Tis why his mysterious disappearance disturbs me.”

“I wish I could help, but I honestly know nothing else except Charlotte’s own brother is acting strangely.”

“How so?” Christian asked.

Walter took a swig before he replied. “Something is not quite right with the man. Have you ever been to his silversmith shop?”

Christian nodded.

“Then you’ve noticed that all he displays is a small amount of silverware. Most silversmiths, including Roderick’s father when he operated the shop, sell other items to help them subsist. Roderick deals in nothing else, yet, despite the time it takes for him and his few men to make silver items, he’s doing rather well from all appearances.”

Christian mused to himself on how profitable counterfeiting was these days. To Walter, he said, “I hadn’t noticed the one time I visited his shop.”

Christian wasn’t ready to inform Walter how he had followed Elizabeth, and what he had heard at Liffey Supply, though he sensed the man was trustworthy.

“What you say holds true,” he agreed, wanting to further probe Walter’s reactions. “The silversmiths I recall all sold glassware, pottery, and even medicines for common ailments. Yet, Roderick may have inherited a fortune, so that he doesn’t need to deal in anything except silver.”

Walter shook his head. “I’m certain Charlotte would have mentioned it to me, as her dowry is moderate, and she was quite embarrassed by it. Mind you, I would wed her if she brought the marriage nary a farthing—so great is my love for her. Anyway, you see, last year, they—I say they, meaning Charlotte’s father, too—as at that time he was still involved in the business. That is how I met Charlotte.” He waved his hand. “But this is beside the point” He took another swallow of cognac and continued. “They lived in a fairly large home and had a decent-sized shop on the outskirts of Dublin. A fire destroyed most of their possessions, including the silverware. For sure, the melted silver was retrieved, but it would have to be refired, purified, and the like before it could be used. All this takes time. They packed up the silver and moved to their present location.”

“Given what you’ve told me, Roderick’s actions are indeed odd.” Christian leaned forward in his chair.

From this brief conversation, Christian had learned enough to determine he liked the man and now wanted to know what he really thought of Roderick. More than ever, he believed Roderick and Elizabeth were the key to finding Adam.

“I’m sure Charlotte appreciates your interest in Roderick’s well-being,” Christian baited Walter.

Walter set his glass down and rested his hands on his knees. Quietly he spoke, “I have not expressed my concern about Roderick to Charlotte. I do not want to alarm her or have her wonder all sorts of crazy notions. For now, I’ll just be watchful. As long as no harm ever comes to Charlotte or her father, I don’t give a damn what Roderick does.”

“So you dislike Roderick?” Christian asked.

“Not at all. I have no feelings one way or the other for the man. Though I’ve known their father for years, I barely know Roderick. Again, my worry is that Charlotte might be hurt.”

“What about the father? What’s his name?”

“Denis.”

“Can you talk to Denis about your suspicions? You are friends.”

Walter shifted in his chair. He rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath before he replied. “Since the fire, Denis has never been the same man. The catastrophe devastated him. He never got over the shock of it. It’s as if he’s stuck in 1740, when he was a young lad. Charlotte and Roderick sadly admitted him to an asylum.”

“Sorry,” Christian offered.

“Me, too,” Walter said. “Denis Godfrey was a good man. It’s better he doesn’t know how Roderick has changed the shop.”

Christian rose.

“Are you leaving? “You haven’t finished your drink,” Walter said.

“Aye. I’ve got some other errands. Here’s my card. Please let me know if you hear any news.”

Walter stood, and the two shook hands.

“Thanks for your time,” Christian added and headed towards the valet and his coat.

“I’ll be here next Friday if you care to join me at the gaming tables for hazard,” Walter called to him. “I warn you. I’m a tough player.”

Christian turned and smiled at the man, “I’ll be there. I warn you. I soften tough players.”

Walter laughed and Christian continued on his way. It was time to follow through on his decision to continue to trail Elizabeth Corry. He’d also hire someone to watch Roderick’s activities.

* * * *

“The man was here, again,” Hannah said as Elizabeth walked through the front door.

“What did Mr. Traynor want?” Elizabeth asked, quite pleased with herself, having predicted his arrival.

“Mr. Traynor?” Hannah’s face showed confusion. “He’s not been here. I’m talking about the Turner man. Ye know. The one who called the morning after the night Mr. Corry failed to return home.”

“Aye. Turner.” The caller had not been Christian. Elizabeth tried to mask her disappointment, though she was unsure why she should even feel so. He had threatened to go to the authorities. Had he indeed done so?

“What did Mr. Turner say?”

“He asked to speak to your da again. I had to tell him he was still too ill for visitors. He said to tell your da he called.” Hannah shook her head. “That man is a mysterious one. He didn’t want to leave any other messages either.”

“How does he know my father?”

Hannah shrugged. “I guess I should have asked, but I doubt if he’d have told me.”

“You did fine, Hannah. We can’t be too careful.” Elizabeth hooked her arm around Hannah’s. “What would you like to do? I’m at your disposal as I promised.”

“Actually, with me sister ill and bedridden, I’d like to bring her something to cheer her. With yer good taste, I thought you might help me choose a gift.” No sooner said, and Hannah’s mouth turned down into a frown. Her brows puckered. “Would it be wrong to have a little fun? I feel guilty, unable to do naught about yer da.”

“Of course not,” Elizabeth assured her. “Did you not suggest I get out some to keep my mind occupied?”

“Aye, that I did, but ...”

“Nay. I’ll not hear it. Have Alf prepare our carriage, and we’ll leave at once.”

Hannah did as she suggested. Meanwhile, Elizabeth worriedly paced the floor in the parlor while she waited for her governess. She had to find out if Christian had gone to the authorities. Perhaps she should call on him. Why take any chances? If it came down to it, she’d jeopardize herself if it meant the safety of her father.

Alf prepared the carriage in no time, and soon, at Hannah’s request, they disembarked from it in front of the Kilkenny Lace and Woollen shop on Gardiner Street not far from the Custom House. Elizabeth tugged her cloak more securely around her against the late afternoon chill and brisk wind. Just that morn it had been spring like. Now, grey clouds threatened to burst, and from the smell in the air, more likely with snow than with rain. God in heaven, would spring never come?

Hannah was unaffected. She beamed with excitement and anxiously entered the shop, holding the door and waving for Elizabeth to hurry inside.

Immediately, the two set their sights on the tables of lace scent bags, handkerchiefs, pillow coverings, table runners and the like. An elderly lady approached. “Can I be helping you this fine afternoon?”

“Not right now. Thank you,” Elizabeth told the woman who smiled and left them to browse.

“Look at this darling sachet pillow.” Hannah held up a small, three-inch square with a lacy white front and plain back. A flap opened on one end so scented dried flowers could be added and the pillow resealed.

“It’s a lovely pattern in the lace,” Elizabeth replied and watched Hannah set it down to pick up a lace-trimmed handkerchief that caught her eye. Hannah opened it to full size and waved it in front of Elizabeth to view.

“It is lovely, too,” Elizabeth said.

“If I keep rummaging through this table I’ll not know what to purchase.” Hannah talked more to herself than to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth studied Hannah and wondered if this woman, her mother figure, could afford either of the pieces. Though her father gave Hannah a generous allowance, lace was an expensive commodity. “There are many nice wool items in this store, too. Do you want to see any of them?”

“Nay. The lace will be special,” Hannah answered, never looking up from her rummaging.

“Can I help you pay for it?” Elizabeth asked. Their relationship was such that it wouldn’t offend the grey-haired woman.

This brought Hannah to her full attention. She spun around to face Elizabeth. “I wouldn’t think of it, Bethy.” I have funds from my savings. Mind ye, I would never purchase such a luxury for meself, but for my sister, aye. ‘Tis why I squirrel away my coins—for occasions just like this. You’re a love to ask, though.” She returned to the lace on the table. “I think I’ll get the handkerchief.”

“It’s pretty, yet practical. She’ll love it.” Elizabeth inwardly smiled. Hannah would choose whatever suited her. She had wanted Elizabeth to come along for her company, not for her opinion. Dear Hannah. Elizabeth walked over to the woman and hugged her.

“Now what is this for?” Hannah asked.

“No reason.”

“Stop,” Hannah fussed.

Elizabeth released Hannah, but she could see her governess was pleased with the affection despite her actions.

While Hannah paid and waited for the handkerchief to be wrapped, Elizabeth stood near the front window and peeked out through the curtains. Large flakes of snow swirled through the air, but had not yet stuck to the ground. Alf patiently sat atop the carriage. Where was her mind? She should have suggested he wait in the coffee house across the street. She glanced at that structure to see the doors burst open. A burly constable hauled a poorly clothed young lad by the collar of his coat out the door.

She guessed the youth to be around ten years old. Whatever could he have done to be treated so gruffly? She hurried outdoors in time to hear one man, apparently the proprietor, say, “Put the rascal in gaol, then. Let his ma and da see that they can’t be havin’ a lad do their thievin’ for them.”

“I tell ye,” the boy cried out, “Me ma and da are innocent. The coin was passed to them. I swear.”

“Shut yer yapper! That’s what all ye ragamuffin troublemakers say.” The constable proceeded to hustle the lad down the street.

God in heaven. Elizabeth’s heart stopped. What if the lad was innocent? “Constable,” she called to the man. She lifted her skirts to run and catch up with him. “Constable, the lad may be speaking the truth.”

“Nay. He’s a little gutter skunk. A liar, that he is.”

“How do you know?”

The constable stopped. He wrapped his beefy arm around the neck of the lad to hold him fast. With his free hand, he reached inside his pocket and dug deep until he found what he wanted and displayed it to Elizabeth. “This is why I know.”

“May I?” Elizabeth asked and reached for the coin.

“Aye.”

Elizabeth needed but to glimpse the piece and she, too, knew the coin was bad. The word shilling was spelled incorrectly. Most poor people were uneducated and such an error hardly would have been noticed. All were able to recognize the different denominations, though they couldn’t actually read what the coins had stamped on them. Still, the error could have been missed by the average citizen on most occasions. Apparently, this proprietor was one exception.

She handed the evidence back to the constable. “What will happen to the child?”

“He’ll hang ‘til he’s blue in the face and his tongue swells from his mouth to a deep shade of purple.”

“You aren’t serious?” Elizabeth couldn’t believe a mere child would be hanged.

“Can’t say.”

“I ain’t afraid. Ye can’t scare me.” The lad kicked the constable in the shin and received a hardy twist of his ear.

“I’ve got to go,” the constable said and turned to do so.

To Elizabeth, the lad gave a brave performance and a performance was all it was. He seemed frightened, and so was she. Her heart pounded. If she were discovered, a hangman’s noose could be easily slipped around her neck, too. She started to shake.

“There ye are, Bethy,” Hannah said. I wondered why ye weren’t inside the carriage. Look at ye. Ye’ve been outdoors so long the snow has collected all over yer cloak, and now ye’re shivering. And yer hands ... child, where is yer muff?” Hannah grabbed Elizabeth by the arm and encouraged her to move along. “I saw ye talking to the constable. Was the lad begging?”

“If only it were that simple.”

“Now what is that supposed to be meaning?”

“He was arrested for passing a counterfeit coin,” Elizabeth said.

“And so should everyone be who breaks the law. The lad needs a good paddling, he does.”

If only you knew, Elizabeth thought.